Matt Groening stole my grandad and called him Abe
Dearest Foxy Badger Sr. - who I've no doubt whittled on about several times - had an incredible gift for tediously dull conversation. He wasn't a boring man by any means, he just knew how to drive anyone who irritated him to tears. His Mum had this gift and gave it to him, who then taught it to my Mum, and that in turn gave me the ability to instill narcolepsy on the general public. Whole hours of my life washed by as grandad gave stories about menial events in his seemingly neverending life.

In particular, there was the episodic saga of him getting new slippers during the winter of '74. Grandad was just short of the change for the bus, so decided to walk into town. On the way, he found some coins on the floor totalling what he needed and tried to get on at the next stop. It was at that point he realised he left his wallet at home. By the time he got back, he was tired, so he made himself a cheese and pickle sandwich, with the crusts cut off. You never know what they put in crusts back in those days. Meant to be rat poison, they say. Well, he was going to walk back out again, but then the match was starting on the radio, and he wanted to see how Soandso United played without Great Jimmy Twofeet due to his neck injury gained last month against FC Blahdeblah...

And so you see my point.

What does this have to do with anything, you ask? Trotting in from school one day, I call out to say hi to grandad as he chats on the phone. No response. I would've concerned myself more, but generic heavily-marketed dubbed anime was just about to start, and I needed an idea of toys for Christmas. An hour passes, and I can't decide if I prefer the Charmander or Bulbasaur talking keyring. Obviously, I need to consult grandad for his advice.

In I march with jovial joy and an Argos catalogue (pages folded at kids toys, of course), where I catch the last few breaths of the conversation:

'...So the slippers were too bloody small, but I won a bit on the pools that week and so I decided to treat myself to a replacement set the next Saturday. To answer your original question, I'm very happy with my electricity supplier and you now know fully well what it's like to have your afternoon degraded by meaningless phone calls.'

*click*

With him around, people didn't try and sell us a damn thing until 3 years after he died, just to be sure. Even the gasman wants to see the death certificate before checking the meter.

I still have my Bulbasaur keyring.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Thu 3 Sep 2009, 22:13, 2 replies)

Lovely and nicely written
It's a rare skill to be able to talk like that. It is indeed a gift. *click*
( Scrumper, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 13:46, closed)

*blush*
Funnily enough, he really did believe there was rat poison in bread crusts.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Fri 4 Sep 2009, 23:19, closed)