One Child’s Summer Vacation Story

This Bastard reporter took time out of a very busy schedule today to visit Mrs. Kundaphumph’s First Grade Class.
Fortunately it had been a slow day for exciting news discoveries, and I happened to be in the neighborhood.
Mrs. Kundaphumph’s class had just returned from lunch and playground activities.
I sat in the classroom in a very small chair, not meant for any person over the age of 9, at the front of the class.
The children darted into the classroom. A herd of boys and girls. Sweaty and tired from the excessive amounts of play.
Mrs. Kundaphumph announced to the class that I was here to listen to their story time.
Today, as my luck would have it, happened to be the day the children were to each stand before their piers and read aloud a story that they had written about an experience they had during last summer while school was out.
I listened as little Joey, and little Molly, little Samantha, and little Robbie, and a slew of other children read their stories.
I feigned interest and applauded when each child was finished regaling us with some boring this or that.
I kept myself from falling asleep several times by jabbing myself in the leg with my pen.
Just as I was at the end of my patience and about to excuse myself, and flee for my car, a little boy named Richie came to the front of the class and began his story.
The title caught my interest, so I sank back into my tiny chair and gave my full attention to this child.
The following is the story he relayed in quite an amusing manner. The story is, from what the now disturbed Mrs. Kundaphumph has told me, true in its entirety.
However, the rhyming of this particular tale, is, by all means, part of Richie’s own immense creativity.

Why is Grandma Stiff?
By Richie

Mom and Dad had gone out today.
So my friends and I stayed home to play.
Grandma was home.
She had made a peach pie.
It didn’t last long.
Just the blink of an eye.
We devoured the pie,
and drank lots of cokes.
We blasted our music,
and told dirty jokes.

Grandma came in.
Saw the mess we had made.
She went all flustered,
and became quite dismayed.
She reached out with her cane
and shut off our sound.
We started to bicker,
to moan, and to gripe,
and to hound.
Grandma bellowed,
“Go upstairs!
Get out of my hair!
I want peace and quiet
while I sit in my chair!”
She went to her rocker,
as we ran along.
She started her stitching
and humming a song.
After an hour,
we came down from my room.
Grandma was asleep,
still holding her loom.
We felt kind of bad.
We did sort of care.
“Grandma,” I said,
as I walked up to her chair.
And that’s when I noticed
a stench in the air.
“Grandma, what is that smell?”
I reached for her shoulder.
I jerked my hand back.
She had never been colder!
I spun to my friends.
Saw the looks on their faces.
They had all freaked,
and became mental cases.
“I think Grandma is sick!
Or at least something is wrong!
I’ve never seen her this color!
She stopped humming her song!”
I turned back around.
We all stared for a minute.
Then we bolted up to my room
and locked ourselves in it.
We all dropped to the floor.
We sat very still.
No one said a word.
That was until…
“What do we do,”
cried out my friend Sue.
“First thing’s first,”
said my other friend, Joe,
“is she sick or is she dead?
We have to know!”
“I’m not really sure,” I said.
“I’ve never seen this before.
But, I think she’s dead.
When Grandma sleeps, she’ll snore.”
“Is it our fault,”
asked my other friend, Steve.
“Because we were bad in the kitchen?
Because we refused to leave?”

“We are so in trouble,”
Sue began to weep.
“We are so in trouble.
In trouble real deep!”
“No,” I said,
“Grandma was real old!
Her time was coming soon.
It’s time to be bold!
Now, wipe away your tears,
and straighten out your faces,
before my folks get home
from where ever that place is.”
“What do mean,”
Sue asked as she sniffed.
“This is what we’ll do,” I said,
“and we’ll have to be swift.
We’ll clean up the kitchen,
and we’ll do it real quick.
Before my folks get home.
Before that stench makes us sick!”
Now the kitchen was clean.
We were upstairs my room.
My folks walked in.
They saw Grandma with her loom.
We waited and waited
for anything at all.
We never heard a peep,
a cry, or a call.
We finally went down.
Our imaginations wondered, ‘What if?’
And, when we reached the bottom stair…
Mom said, “Son, why is Grandma stiff?”

I had found my story for the day! Little Richie had the most interesting tale this Bastard reporter has heard from a child, well, ever!

As for little Richie, Mrs. Kundaphumph spoke to the Grade School Principal, who called little Richie’s parents, who have now put him back into psychiatric therapy for a few more years.

All in all, this Bastard reporter had a the perfect end to a long and somewhat boring day.

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3 Responses to “One Child’s Summer Vacation Story”

  1. irritatedtulsan Says:

    Pure genius.

  2. HehHehHeh….A little morbid, but funny 🙂

  3. Hellcat Says:

    LOL! You are “such a bastard”…. Damn kids probably gave her a stroke.

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