“Grandpappy Tells a Tale” - A Satirical, Short Story

“Gather ‘round children,” Grandpappy said to the lot of us.

All the kids at Grandma’s house halted their roughhousing and dog-piled on Grandpappy. I am not a child among them - just somebody who can appreciate a good story.

Nobody knows how old Grandpappy truly is. His stories make up for the untracked time. If he wasn’t keeping track, God knows we weren’t.

“Would you like to hear a familiar tale?” He cackled.

All the kids crowded toward his recliner. To those who know, this was his throne.

There was zero room that remained surrounding Grandpap. There were little babies smooshed in between the edges of the cushions. In one of his hands, a fat baby, hanging and suspended in the air. In his other hand were two kids, clinging onto his fingers and wrist. A bunch of sprawly cousins that I didn’t know hung over the top headrest, and the well-mannered triplets sat in front of him.

This is how it normally goes when Granpap tells a story.

I hung in the back of the den, just far enough to still hear his grainy voice. My little cousin Rodney stood posted up next to me. He’s something like six and likes to think he’s as cool as us older cousins.

“I killed a ladybug earlier,” Rodney said.

“Oh,” I said.

Grandpap began his story.

“When I was about your age,” he said to all the different aged kids. “I remember spending a lot of time riding my bicycle. I used to ride my bike everywhere in those days.”

One of the triplets blew a spit bubble.

“Though one day, some buttcrack, townie kids targeted me and destroyed my bicycle. At the time, home science experiment kits were all the rage, and back then people used to get a kick out of hurting others.” He briefly paused to reflect. “So, those kids threw their homemade sulfuric acid in my eyes and they tossed my bike in the river!”

The children began laughing, and some had started wrestling again due to Grandpappy’s instigating story.

“Though, like you,” he said as if speaking to one person and not a large group of kids, “I would never settle for a setback. My children, I fished my broken bicycle out of the river and I made it anew!”

Little Rodney who was standing next to me couldn’t keep his suave facade going anymore. He folded and went to join the crowd of wild kids with his thumb in his mouth.

Grandpap continued. “I could’ve built my bike back the way it was ‘yessiree, but instead I had a greater idea, a grander one! I knew I would be targeted again so I decided to make a dramatic change.”

I never took my Grandpap for much of an inventor, but nevertheless, the geezer explained. “I took my whip and ripped one of the wheels off. Then, I took my seat, and ripped that off too! Soon my beloved toy was looking worse than it had before.” His thick glasses shimmered in the fluorescent light, his eyes reimagining something only he saw.

At this point, most of the children had gone back to playing. I was one of the last ones listening. His story never skipped a beat.

“My sleek bike was now a unicycle, and I knew this contraption would impress those whizzy, science guys. I spent all summer practicing out in the yard, and eventually, I was better at riding my unicycle than I ever was a bike,” Grandpappy said fondly, as he gazed off into the ceiling.

His timing made it seem like the story was over. Grandpappy looked as if he was stuck in a fixed thought, reminiscing about the memory of his unicycling days.

“What happened next Grandpap?” I asked him in curiosity and also to make sure he was still alive.

He turned toward the baby clutched in his left hand.

“They beat me up and threw more acid in my eyes son!”

He and the baby both began hysterically laughing.

It all makes sense now. My Grandpap’s been blind this whole time.