Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Nonogenarian Depravity

Now, I have always known that my grandfather is a world class liar. This isn't news to anybody who's ever met him. I don't mean that he's a convincing liar when I say "world class." Rather, I'm talking about the frequency here. His lies are varied, from lies constructed to cover his ass to lies that serve no immediate purpose other than giving him the strange thrill he experiences from just making shit up. It's usually pretty obvious when he's fucking with you just for the sake of it, which is pretty much every time he says anything. It's incredibly frustrating, but to him, it's a hobby. He uses fabrication and deceit as ways to pass the time. Now that he is 92 years old, I figured he had run the gamut of falsehood and that the lies I would hear about would be mere repeats. Not so!

You see, he's quite a spry old gentleman, and he still runs his own business that involves lots of lifting, working outside, and physical activity. It's laughable, then, to anybody who knows what astounding shape he's in, when he pretends to be senile in order to get away with, oh, let's say, stealing. That one sticks out in my mind as a prime example. He shuffles, lets his eyes unfocus, drools a little, and then pockets "samples" from the candy bins in grocery stores. You know, that kind of candy you'd typically have to be paid to ingest. He actually breaks the law to get those little morsels of antique caramel or whatever they seem to be trying to accomplish in those little squares. I swear, I am not making this up. There are witnesses. This has happened more than once. As soon as he rounds the corner, his eyes clear, the drool is wiped away, and the spring is back in his stride, his pocket full of ill-gotten, rustling treasures.

He uses the senility trick all the time. It's his "get out of jail free" card, so to speak, but it's also a performance art he's been working on since his hair went grey. When he yells at his customers and calls them stupid assholes, among other things, they often threaten him with violence (again, I am not making this up), and he, in turn, threatens to appear in court with his damning "feeble" act. So far, nobody's kicked his ass yet. The few times it threatened to fall through, he was (luckily for him) near his car and was able to speed off into the distance before he had to accept consequences for his actions. Like the time he pretended to be deaf so that he could dump trash in the Goodwill donation box and ignore the pleading cries of the poor worker who had to sift through those piles of decay. I'm not exactly sure why Grandpa drove out to the donation center to drop these things off. I think it was because the items were too big (broken chairs, etc.) to be taken away by the city, so he decided to unload it on the hapless rehabilitated workers at the donation center. I'm trying not to think that he went out of his way to do it because he thought it was hilarious, but I don't know. Could be.

I'm wondering, though, if he's going to use the geriatric excuse when someone finds out that the lemonade he serves his customers as they pick up their merchandise has absolutely no trace of lemon in it, despite his claim that they squeeze it fresh on site from their home-grown fruit. It turns out, it's some vile, packaged lemonade mix that comes in sludge form and is probably closer in composition to moistened bone marrow than lemons. He carefully mixes this with that rancid-tasting fake sugar that comes in economy-sized cartons that look suspiciously similar to ones housing dish soap and rat poison. I'm imagining all this gets thrown in a bubbling vat that gives off harmful vapors. He then, in a final touch of unnecessary malice, pours artificial dyes into it to give it a slightly darker color.

Jesus. All I can say is...really, Grandpa? Come on. Come ON. If I weren't laughing so hard over how horrible this is, I'm sure I'd pick up the phone and give him a piece of my mind. Of course, I'm not sure where this information came from. My dad told me. Did he witness the dank, alchemical transmutation himself, or did Grandpa just tell him? Because, you know. He might be lying. He does that sometimes.

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