AcmeShorts

“Don’t get salty at me just because you’re not able to perform the simplest of tasks. My dead grandmother could do that with her hands tied behind her back. Not that I bound her or anything and I definitely had nothing to do with ending her life. Not that you know of. Look, nothing untoward happened, it was natural causes. What I'm trying to say is I loved my grandmother. Ahhh, Mootah. What a dear, dear woman and what a huge influence on my life. I have very old memories, ancient memories, of when I was 3 years old at my grandmother’s house in Pemington, New Jersey. She would come into the bathroom when I was having my little child poops and keep me company, looming large over me in her open robe over ruffly nightgown. I remember the scent of bleach and fart, the smell of impeccable cleanliness. Not a dust mote to be seen, all shiny white tiles. One time she told me my ass looked nice and big spread out on the toilet seat and that girls would really like it later on. She held my hand with her wrinkly, liver-spotted hands, dry and rough to my young skin. She told me about how Grandpa would walk behind her down the street in old New York city because he loved the way 'all your parts jiggle.' Mootah would help me clean my backside after I was finished and 'for good measure' she scrubbed my little penis. That always felt good. I'm sorry, Mootah, that you can't be here today to see all the wonderful things I do today without complaint, unlike you, you self-absorbed little complaining twit. Now get back to work."