More dogblogging
When we were five for dinner, mom, dad, my sister and I, and Gramma, Mom and Sis sat on the refrigerator side of the table, I sat on the opposite side, and Dad and Gramma sat at opposite head ends.
We had a pepro-bismol pink dinette with chrome chairs that had shiny vinyl cushions. Ugly as the asshole of a goat. They were of the classical Bruer design, and they took quite a beating during their life.
Gramma was a big woman, fore and aft. The chair she sat in showed this by it’s sag- and one day, it let loose.
Now, as I have said before, Lucky sat underneath any chair my grandmother was on. We all sat there, eating jello chocolate pudding out of mom’s faux wood salad bowls, and gramma’s chair creaked. And then she was gone. She dropped from sight like magic, she was there and thennot there so fast we thought the rapture had come. this was followed by a quick yipe, and we all looked under the table. The dog, sensing something amiss, had scooted out from under the chair in the nick of time and yiped, not because of being crushed, but because of running headlong into mom’s avocado Norge, and rebounding off, just to have gramma’s pudding dropped on her furry little head. Gramma sat there surrounded by the pieces of her disembodied chair, the dog next to her covered with pudding.
Dad was concerned, of course, for gramma AND the dog, but then he had to leave the room, his face red with supressed laughter. My sister and I feared additional helpings of slumgullion if we laughed, so we shut up. I gave gramma my chair and ate my pudding standing up. Gramma ate dad’s pudding, and lucky ate gramma’s. Dad sat on the basement steps holding his sides and laughing like Muttley, trying to keep quiet enough not to piss gramma off.
yes, Lucky licked Gramma’s teeth that night too.
Afterwards dad bought a set of six institutional chairs, the ones restaurants use, tough indestructible things.
We had a pepro-bismol pink dinette with chrome chairs that had shiny vinyl cushions. Ugly as the asshole of a goat. They were of the classical Bruer design, and they took quite a beating during their life.
Gramma was a big woman, fore and aft. The chair she sat in showed this by it’s sag- and one day, it let loose.
Now, as I have said before, Lucky sat underneath any chair my grandmother was on. We all sat there, eating jello chocolate pudding out of mom’s faux wood salad bowls, and gramma’s chair creaked. And then she was gone. She dropped from sight like magic, she was there and thennot there so fast we thought the rapture had come. this was followed by a quick yipe, and we all looked under the table. The dog, sensing something amiss, had scooted out from under the chair in the nick of time and yiped, not because of being crushed, but because of running headlong into mom’s avocado Norge, and rebounding off, just to have gramma’s pudding dropped on her furry little head. Gramma sat there surrounded by the pieces of her disembodied chair, the dog next to her covered with pudding.
Dad was concerned, of course, for gramma AND the dog, but then he had to leave the room, his face red with supressed laughter. My sister and I feared additional helpings of slumgullion if we laughed, so we shut up. I gave gramma my chair and ate my pudding standing up. Gramma ate dad’s pudding, and lucky ate gramma’s. Dad sat on the basement steps holding his sides and laughing like Muttley, trying to keep quiet enough not to piss gramma off.
yes, Lucky licked Gramma’s teeth that night too.
Afterwards dad bought a set of six institutional chairs, the ones restaurants use, tough indestructible things.
posted by og at 7:08 AM
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