Micah proceeded to pound on my chest and lift up on my chin. Boy, I sure was getting beat up a lot. First the floor tried to rupture my nuts, then my own tongue tried to suffocate me and now Micah was beating me to death. Then again, Micah was the one that had mopped the floor, so I guess in a way she was responsible for all of my pain. I flapped my arms and hands to get her to back off as I tried to get my breath back.
Shockingly, Grandfather lifted me in his arms as if I was nothing more than a small toddler. I was still coughing some, but at least I could breathe now. He never once said anything about me coughing in his face as he carried me all the way through the house and up to my room.
Now, I had no idea that, while I had been rolling around on the floor, the GoodNite I had been wearing had failed to do the job for which it was intended to do. However, Grandfather had seen what happened and decided that he needed to rescue me from what surely would have been a fatal case of embarrassment.
It wasn’t until he had carried me into my room, lowered me to my feet and closed the door that I became aware of my wet pants.
I guess it was an accumulation of everything that had happened up to that point, which had caused me to say what I said next within my Grandfather’s presence.
“Son of a shit snacking whore!” I cursed at my pants and as soon as I had uttered those four words I instantly knew that they were going to be the last words anyone ever heard from me.
I looked up at Grandfather fully expecting him to come down on me like Hell’s fury unleashed, but he didn’t. Now he was understandably upset with what I had just said, but he also knew that it was said under extreme circumstances. He puffed himself up and I braced myself for at the very least a verbal thrashing.
“Well then. Seems you have your grandmother’s talent for words.” He said rather drolly.
That one threw me for a loop and I was left scratching my head.
“Don’t tell her I told you so, but she can make a seasoned sailor blush when she gets worked up.” He said with a chuckle that seemed to pain him more than amuse him.
Still, when he stepped toward me and reached out a hand, I instinctively recoiled and threw up my hands to protect myself.
“Oh do settle down boy!” he said gruffly, “Come boy! Get that chin up and stick out that chest. What-What!”
I stuck out my chest like he said, but instead of lifting my chin I cocked my head to one side like a dog might do.
“No, no, no! Not like that boy!” he said, taking hold of my head and positioning it himself.
He then placed his hands on my shoulders, “Now push your shoulders back.”
He stood back, rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said smartly, “That’s more like it!”
Grandfather reached to his mouth for his pipe, but it wasn’t there. It was almost funny the way he looked at his right hand with disapproval. He caught me smiling at him coyly and quickly hid his hand behind his back.
“Now then, we best do something about your attire. What-What!” He said.
“Uh, I can do it myself?” I said confidently.
He puffed himself up again and sounding like the Grandfather I knew, he huffed, “Well then, don’t just stand there. Get to it boy!” and as he reached for the doorknob he said, “And be quick about it! No dilly-dallying and whatnot!”
I nearly laughed as his mustache danced and twitched below his nose as though it were trying to leap right off his face.