Wednesday, November 30, 2011

For &*%$ or %^@ Or Worse

"What's with Grandma?" eleven year old Jake asked.

Grandpa Phil rubbed his temple, stalling.

"You know the way she gets when she watches those reality shows since her accident," he replied.

"You mean how her face turns red, and she uses those words I'm not supposed to know."

Grandpa Phil smiled and nodded.

"You bibelot, sere, inchoate, idiot." The shrill words coming from the TV room pierced the wall.

"Is she speaking in a different language?" Jake peeked around the corner and saw Grandma Faith sitting on the edge of the chair, hair falling out of its bun, fists pounding the air.

"I don't think so." Grandpa Phil sat at the dining room table and waved Jake to him. "She's been like this since she got struck by lightning. You remember that happening?"

"She went out to get the mail in a thunder storm." Jake shook his head. "Not a good thing to do."

"That's right." Grandpa Phil tousled Jake's hair. "The doctors don't know what happened, but they think she'll get better." He looked out the window and chewed on his lip. "At least, they hope she will."

"Hey, tenebrous, even Dr. Phil couldn't fix you," Grandma Faith yelled.

"Does she know what those words mean?"

"Probably not."

Jake walked to the doorway, covered his ears, and stuck his head into the TV room.

He turned to Grandpa Phil. "You think it works the other way, too?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there are a lot adults that don't make any sense when they talk. Maybe if they got hit by lightning, they would?"

Grandpa Phil laughed for the first time since the accident.

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