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The Danger of Grandchildren
by
John Foster
Having spent
two hours shopping in town, I decided to find a
cafe where I could relax with a cup of
coffee. Against my better judgement I had taken my grandson with me, which was the ultimate reason for
the following chaos. We went into a cafe and took
our seats at a table which had steel chairs
fastened
to the floor. Why anyone would want to steal these
chairs was puzzling, but the fact that they were
quite
low and two feet from the table raised a question. Was it possible I had taken a table exclusively
reserved for tall portly midgets? As I pondered the
situation, nearly ten minutes passed and I began to
think that the only way to find a waiter in this
establishment would be to hire a private detective!
With all my attention focused on the service
counter, I did not notice that my grandson had
decided to
relieve the boredom by opening a tiny plastic cup
of milk which obviously was for the coffee.
Unfortunately he had opened most of them and had
his side of the table looking like a lake in
winter. He
had also opened the little packets of sugar and was
now creating what looked like ice crystals on the
frozen lake.
Before I could do anything, a pimply faced youth
with staring eyes arrived in front of me, looked at
the
table and asked if we would like anything. I was
tempted to say that I would like to be served
preferably by someone of my own species who had
scrubbed their fingernails that morning, but I
resisted
the temptation. The alien waiter produced two paper
napkins, a plastic knife and spoon, one paper
plate and retired to his spaceship with an order of
coffee, biscuits and diet coke. Looking around the
cafe and wondering if I had entered another
dimension, I suddenly heard the sound of something
tearing. My grandson had taken possession of the
plastic knife and was proceeding to render the menu
card into the smallest pieces imaginable. The
pieces of sliced card had transformed into
miniature boats
and were now floating on the frozen lake he had
created.
Grabbing a plastic knife from a child of
three
was possibly the biggest mistake I made that day,
apart from walking into this cafe. With a squeal
that
could be heard two streets away, he withdrew the
knife blade from my hand, cutting my index finger
and
narrowly missing a vein in my wrist. Drops of blood
joined the boats on the lake and the table now
resembled a modern art painting which I attempted
to clean with the paper napkins. I do not know how
the napkins were manufactured, but it certainly had
no effect on the rain forest as they were about two
microns thick. I tried in vain to clean the table
and smiled softly at the other customers as I
squeezed the
little hand until it dropped the bloodstained
knife.
Soon the alien waiter arrived with the order. As he
looked at the table his mouth dropped open,
fortunately reminding me to make a dental
appointment the next week. He then asked if I would
need
some more napkins to clean up the mess. I wondered
if the cafe would have about two thousand in
stock, which would allow me at least a few
centimetres of paper to mop up. Thanking him for
his
assistance and having done my best to clean the
table, I decided with a sense of foreboding to try
the
coffee. Forgetting that my grandson had destroyed
all of the sugar, I promptly emptied two small
packets of salt into my coffee and stirred
vigorously. As I swallowed the first mouthful I
realized there
was something terribly wrong and called the waiter.
He replied that no one else had any complaints and
the coffee was always fresh. I thought perhaps this
was a bad dream, I was not really in a cafe, but
inside
an alien spacecraft with peculiar seating.
I was suddenly brought back to earth as I noticed
some dark brown fluid dripping down the back of a
customer at the next table. My grandson had
obviously developed the art of propelling diet coke
through a straw at high velocity. Trying to remain
calm in this clear and present danger, I forcibly
removed the straw from between the tiny clenched
teeth. My grandson having lost the straw was now
determined not to lose the glass, which he seized
with both hands, spilling the entire contents over
the
table and unfortunately my trousers. The glass,
which now seemed to have a mind of its own, bounced
off the table, covered a distance of about five
metres and smashed into thousands of pieces against
the
far wall.
As customers dived for cover, the cafe staff having
decided that I was a reformed lunatic still under
psychiatric care, offered more coffee and coke at
no charge. The plan was obviously to get me and my
demonic grandson out as soon as possible, thus
reducing the possibility of bodily injury to
innocent
customers, not to mention multiple lawsuits.
I declined the offer in fear of what might happen
next and decided to leave, as I was not in a
financial
position to completely refurbish an entire cafe.
Making my way past the terrified customers, I
stopped at
the cashier to pay the bill. As I fumbled in my
waterlogged trousers for money I quickly learned a
scientific fact that not many people know. Diet
coke has an incredible shrinking effect on trousers
and I
was unable to put my hand into my trouser pocket
which now appeared to be about three inches wide. I
explained to the suspicious cashier that I had
money but it was difficult to produce at this
moment. With
a sneering grin she replied, “They all say that.”
During this embarrassing explanation the problem
was
quickly resolved as my grandson inserted his hand
into my pocket and pulled out a fistful of coins
which
he then scattered on the floor.
Using the best excuse I could find, I informed the
cashier that I had a bad back and they could keep
the
change. My normal disposition had now suddenly
changed to a mixed mode of embarrassment,
humiliation and nervous exhaustion. Grabbing the
tiny hand, I left the cafe and walked quickly to
the
car, wondering if this child in future years would
become a world renowned painter or demolition
expert. As I proceeded with the best speed possible
in wet trousers, my grandson attempted to escape
from my hold. This he succeeded in doing and as I
bent down to catch the elusive hand I unfortunately
walked into a telephone pole which some stupid
company had obviously put in the wrong place.
Stunned, with small splinters of wood protruding
from my head but still holding the tiny hand in a
death
grip, I was surrounded by onlookers who enquired
about my state of health. As I was unable to speak
clearly, a debate began on whether I was epileptic,
diabetic or drunk. The biggest insult came from an
elderly lady who remarked that I was obviously
incontinent!
After a few minutes begging the bystanders not to
call an ambulance, I got to my feet and reached my
car. However, the person who decided I was drunk in
charge of a three year old child was not satisfied
and called the police. How I hate mobile phones!
The police duly arrived to find me sitting in the
car
with a large bump on my head, wet trousers, a cut
finger and near to tears. After being told to blow
into
a breath analyzer and walk in a straight line, I
replied I could do neither, due to mental and
physical injuries, but the police insisted they
would have to “look into this.”
As I had only one nerve left and everybody was
getting on it, I replied that some workmen were
digging
a hole in the ground nearby and why did the police
not look into that! Within two minutes my car was
locked and my grandson and I were conveyed to the
nearest police station. I was accused of not
providing a breath sample, attempting to drive a
car under the influence of drink or drugs and the
possibility of child abduction. After legal
representation, medical examination and two finger
sutures, I
was released without charge. The police against all
my protests gleefully telephoned my wife to collect
my grandson and what was once a normal human being
who had now lost the will to live. When I
arrived home I looked into a mirror to examine my
head injury. I immediately recognized the face, but
I
could not remember the name.
Husbands and wives sometimes have different
opinions, but on this occasion I totally agreed
with her when she said, “You will never take this
child into town again!”
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