Gran

Well?  The good news is that my gran is awake and able to talk.  Thank you, Lord, you are amazing to me!  You think Beyonce’s a survivor?  I remember us getting a call yearrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs ago, that she’d fended off a knife-wielding intruder.  And already then, she looked old to me. 

My dad said she knows who they are and my aunt says that she's going from making sense to not making much sense, but hey.  She's made alllllllota sense throughout her years.  I'm pretty sure that nobody minds her rambling on about whatever she sees fit to ramble on about.  It’s not every day that a 90-year old suffers something as life-threatening as a stroke and lives to tell the tale. 

Whether it's that she sees a monkey in a doctors uniform eating cat food!  I could care less at this point.  I'm simply grateful that she's still here and that I've been blessed enough with the ability to go and see her before this week is up. 

Is that selfish?  Hmmmmmmmmmmm?  Maybe it is.  But love?  Love is selfish...at times.  At least, I believe that it is.  Although, in instances like these?  It's a good selfish.  Not like...see 'cause, badddd selfish?  That's what I'd use to describe our government.  Shhhhhhhhhhh.  I'm not picking.  I'm just saying.  Just as a means to show the difference between good and evil.  I mean, bad.  Good and bad. 

Not sure, but I might have told you this story before.  My first job ever, in a place that had  a wages department?  A-hem.  I worked at a gym before this.  That’s some irony for ya.  Hating what I was being paid to teach.  Nnnnnn, now that I think about it, it’s not thaaaaaat uncommon.  It’s just…these days, I really do try to avoid mouthing the word. 

Annnnnnnnd here she is people?!?!?  Falling off the track again….

Back to my story.  The real job was part time on the sales register in OK Bazaars.  Before I go on?  This is a lesson in what happens when you trust evvvvvverbody!  This selfish man chooses myyyyyy register to pay for the bag he wanted and not to pay for the polony he chose to hide inside of it.  Okay, look?  The truth of the matter was…I was young.  If at training, you didn't tell me to open the bag?  My common sense was just as lazy at the next youngster.  There was no way it was gonna kick in on it's own!  Usually it saved itself for when I needed help choosing an outfit to go clubbing with my cousin, Nadia. 

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, sigh.  ^_^!  Them good ole days when social lives were still within reach.

So anyway, the polony thief pays, and unbeknown to me?  The security had already spotted the bag-carrying bandit so they stop him at the door and ofcourse he’s like all outa breath and gasping at their cheek.  Once they apprehend him and open the bag…there in lies the fucken polony.

Lemme just ask you this.  Have you ever conspired with a thief to steal po-freakin-lony?  Anyone?  You?  No?  Me?  Nope! 

Well?  The powers that be didn’t think so.  Those shirt-wearing bastards then called me in and not in so many words, imply that I was co-conspirator in the polony heist!  SMFH!  :-/  If there is one thing that honestly annoys me?  It’s that.  Don’t for a second believe that I will not write you off for a lifetime and beyond, should you accuse me of a crime as hideous as going half with a stranger on a kg of polony!   

So, respectfully, I answered their questions and went back to my register and as I sat there, I became more and more enraged at the preposterousness of the accusations that I'd decided that that infact, would be my last day.  No way would I hang about some place where even one person believed me to be a thief…let alone, one who steals processed meat. 

I had a reputation.  I had to protect it.  I have no idea why I’m typing this robotically but just go with it.  I’m in the zone.  However, I was not in any zone with that person when he stole the polony.  Coming from a well-mannered home?  I didn't show them my middle finger.  Not physically, at least.  But I did have a mind full of erect middle fingers dancing around in my head. 

And that was it.  I made sure to send back the wages they’d paid me in advance since I was due to work that weekend.  Me and my middle fingers, never went back.   

My gran was living at our house at the time and if Nadia were here, sitting next to me right now, she’d be able to tell you, word for word, how many times my gran yelled about it…”POLONY?!??!?!?!  THEY ACCUSED YOU OF STEALING POLONY???  YOU DON’T EVEN EAT POLONY?!?!?”  If I had said, “Gran…go tell them off…”  That’s all the push she woulda needed but that day, is one I will never forget!  You had to be there.  She would go about her business and remember and then come back into the room again, “POLONY?!?!?!?  Bloody swines!  You don’t even eat polony!  Lovey!  Lovey?!  She doesn’t even eat polony!” 

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!  I love her.  She had my back, fo shizzle!