Tacky wildflowers scattered among knee-high grass split in halves by a cracked concrete walkway that led up to the home. Well, it was more of a house, homes feel…well, homey. This square compound gave me no sense of belonging as I walked through the jungle to the front door.
Brad said his grandma was here but it didn’t look like anyone had been here for years. I didn’t know much about his grandma other than that she was basically dead. Which was great because I really wasn’t trying to listen to total gibberish about the war or knitting or whatever old people talk about. Is it the news? Well, probably not for Grandma Brad. Shes basically dead and I know if I was on my death bed the last thing Id care about is the newest unlikely animal friends or anything on the news or actually anything in general. Dying must suck.
This vinyl needs a wash, I thought. Bigger tasks at hand though; Brads operation was the second door on the right, down the stairs, then all the way to the back. One deep breath praying, fucking praying, that an old, dead set of eyes wasn’t going to be looking directly through me when I walked in.
“HELP ME FINISH THIS PUZZLE ABOUT RACISM,” she would caw. Then I would help her because I can’t say no.
I walked in to vinyl flooring and a narrow, dark hallway. Brad must really like vinyl. He must have also been a fan of 2D soft-core porn because the walls were littered with it. So littered I questioned if he had drywall underneath them. Brad was always a conservative guy but apparently his sexuality wasn’t. It was hard to imagine him strolling through his hallway in his thick framed glasses and permanent look of inquisition as he observed the dozens of half nude men, women, and…..what the fuck, are those elm trees?
“What the fuck, Brad” I whispered to myself.
“Those aren’t elm trees,” said the soft, sweet voice that made me shit my pants.
It was just a little squirt so it’d probably dry, which relieved me. I turned slowly to find a one armed skeleton covered in burlap wearing a cute little sun dress cut just above the knee. I then took a colossal shit in my pants.
“Hey there I’m Grandma Brad,” said the skeleton.
I said nothing, but was thankful I wore briefs today.
“…do you need to take a shit?” said the presumptive Grandma Brad.
“Something like that,” my head was down and my legs wide.
“The garbage is in the cupboard,” she used her one arm to point across her body to the first door on the right. I swear she was looking directly into me. Her eyes were dead. Like ‘been literally dead for 5 months’ dead. No way she isn’t blind. I waved my hand to check and she either didn’t notice or didn’t care to comment on the gesture. She had long grey hair with a tinkerbell nose on a petite face. She probably would have been pleasant looking if not for the missing limb and carcass eyes.
I waddled into the 1/2 bath and shut the door behind me. While attempting to pull off my pants without spreading waste all over myself I thought why elm trees, Brad. But wait, they weren’t elms, at least according to Grandma Brad. Fucken hold up a second how did she know I thought they were elm trees? Probably because she knows you’re a dumb ass.
I finished cleaning myself and put on my pants, not ready at all to free-ball it in front of the dead person outside. If I poop at the sight of her again it would get all over my Wranglers. Fuck, I am a dumb ass. I walked outside to the porn-walk and she was no longer standing at the end of the hall but was right in front of the door staring, blankly with a curl in the corner of her mouth. All I could fixate on was remembering which arm was missing before, I’m pretty sure it was her right. She didn’t look like she knew about arms so I didn’t bother asking.