Hard Times

Hello! These last few days have definitely been some of the hardest of my life. The problem is, I cannot sit due to a little accident. Everytime I try to sit, I feel a sting in my bottom. And if I'm absent minded, and just drop my rear in the sofa like I normally do after a long day of petanque and Martini, it feels like the whole prison has found me picking up the soap.

My grandson Petteri has definitely taken everything out of my agony. Yesterday he said he had a surprise for me. He told me to get in the car. I said I can't sit in a car right now, but he insisted and told it's really worth it. So, I crawled to the backseat lying on my side, facing the bench. As if that had not been humiliating enough, he left me in a parking lot in the front of the bank for awhile. I just kept chanting, 'This is going to cost you a lot of beer, boy!'

After all, we ended up in a shoe store. Petteri said he had to buy some wax and asked me to join, because we were near our destination. I was still standing by the door, while Petteri had already ran to the clerk - a very lovely looking young lady, by the way - telling her something and pointing at me. The lady came to me and said, 'We have the best collection of Dr Martens in town. This way, please!' Oh my, I thought, desperately looking for a way out of the situation, only to see Petteri lurking out of the side door!! I remembered having told Petteri many times, that I needed a new pair of Martens. Now he was taking advantage of that.

The lady took me by the hand and led me to the Martens rack. She suggested me a pair, and asked how I liked them. Looks nice, I said. She handed them to me for fitting. I dropped them on the floor and tried to bow down to put them on my feet. No way. So I told her I have this uhhh...condition. She went down, started putting the boots on me, her beautiful long blond hair swinging around my middle section. I just stood there helpless, and found myself blushing. At the same moment I fixated on the window: Petteri was standing there finger pointing at me, laughing a silent laugh! Damn it!! The red of humiliation on my face started to turn into the red of anger.

At last the lady got the shoes tied. I took a few steps and asked how much they are. Two ninety-nine, she told. 'Ok, I take these.' I indicated Petteri to come in. 'I think you want to pay these', I said to him. He nodded trying to keep a straight face. To my delight, I noticed a faint sting in his expression when he heard the price.

On our way back home, Petteri asked me if I was happy now. 'Of course', I said, 'I got a new pair of shoes! Are you happy?' He kept silent.

Well, I know I've done quite a many funny things on him, and I know he's legitimate to give me my share, too. To tell the truth, I am happy to see him developing an eye for creating this kind of situations. I think he'll turn out a really fine man when he gets to my age!!


Next time I'll tell you how I got those four stitches on my behind!

-Grandpa

Hello everyone and welcome to the blog!!

Let me first tell you a bit more about the old guy. He is my dad's dad, and my only living grandfather. Since his childhood he has been quite action-packed. Before he took off by a cargo ship at the age of fifteen, he was an avid ski jumper. As a remainder of those days, he has problems with his knees. Although surprisingly healthy for his age and drinking habits, he has a heart condition, which keeps him off the craziest stuff like drunken reindeer riding. I think my Grandma is secretly pleased about that.

Grandpa has always had a great love for pranks. There's so many he's done on me that I really can't count. A couple of weeks ago he did a quite funny one. We were at our summer cottage with a few of my friends, and Grandpa decides to show up. He'd told Granny that they have to bring us some beer for the sauna. Grandma wanted to pick some blueberries and accepted the proposition. Of course she didn't know by then that we got only one beer each, and Grandpa had a case plus a bottle of whiskey provided for himself. Well, I think she should've guessed.

Anyways, we sat by the fire, and Grandpa drank his beer telling stories about Rio and Amsterdam in the 50s. That was fun alright, but I eagerly waited to get my hands on his bottle of whiskey. After all the beer, he couldn't be able to consume the hot sauce anymore. So I waited...

It was about half past ten, when he retired to the cottage. I still waited for a good half an hour, until I sneaked into his bedroom and found the whiskey bottle lying there almost full. I grabbed it and creeped out to the porch. My plan was the classic: drink some and put some tea in the place. I told the guys to gather around for the good stuff. Triumphantly, I raised the bottle to my lips and took a mouthful - of TEA!!! What the F??!?!!

While still totally confused and spitting the tea to the ground, Grandpa shows up in the doorway laughing his lungs off!! The bastard! He'd let me taste my own medicine. 'I know you, son, I know you!' he cried and went back to sleep.

Yeah, that's my Grandpa at his purest. And I love the man, like (almost) everybody else does.

-Petteri