TV's Where It's At.

by Smiley McGrouchpants

               Grandmaw came downstairs from the attic, all worked up  again!
               "That Obama!" (for an old lady, she sure could shout a lot  she was hard of hearing.  So.)  "He's gonna take away our guns and make us all socialists!"
               Bobbi popped her gum.  She went back to the crossword.
               Aunt Karen, dishrag in hand, stood back from the pile in the sink  she was already tired enough  to address Grandmaw's latest rantings.  "You been watching that same news network?"
               Grandmaw bobbed her head, up and down, like a bobble-headed toy.  (She looked stupid, but we didn't want to be mean to Grandmaw.  So much of daily life in that house entailed keeping your mouth shut out of guilt.)
               I went back to the racing form.  Some of the horses looked pretty good, some of them looked alright, but none of them was I willing to fall in love with.  I had to budget my weekly $20 careful.  I tossed the form aside.  Fuck it.
               "Socialists get free toilet paper and soap!" I felt like saying, since I was bored, and wanted to get a rise out of Grandmaw.
               She glared at me, stricken, and then pointed her index finger at me.  "I'm cutting you out of my will, just for saying that!"
               She did, too.
               Stupid bitch!

                                                                         THE END