Memories Of Grandma...

I am not a sentimental person when it comes to the past. My memories are hazy because many of them I chose to forget. Also, I smoked a lot of weed back in the day, so take that brain cells. I do, however, remember my grandma. She spent a considerable amount of time watching after me in my youth. I remember many moments of our time together that might be worthy of a share. This is one of them.

My grandmother was deathly afraid of vermin. Mice, rats, voles, marmots, gophers, gerbils, hamsters, ferrets...did I mention marmots? HATED VERMIN! She hated these pests with a passion not seen since Roman Polanski's passion for the art of filmmaking...and 13-year old girls. My favorite movie at the time of this story was "Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade," a film which features thousands of rats running, squealing, dodging and ducking though a flaming tomb. Perfect for my 7-year old self.

Of course, every time I watched this movie on her new fangled VCR, I was forced to fast forward through these crucial-to-the-plot 15 minutes or so. One day, feeling especially mischevious, I decided that I wanted to test my grandmother's hatred. So, in the midst of fast forwarding through the scene, I had her open her eyes prematurely. I hit the play button and unleashed a torrent of rat-ish hell upon my grandmother. It seems awful to say it now, but at the time...it was just as awful.
My grandmother's shrieks drowned out those of the rats. No small feat due to my childhood propensity for incredibly loud volume and close TV proximity.

Now, my grandmother was not a small person. In fact, she was quite rotund. I hate to say it like that, because it makes me seem callous, but I loved her despite her size and, let's face it, typical grandma smell. And I only point out her weight to make this next point truly hit home.

Her leap toward the VCR defied all physics. No one that big has ever, or will ever, move that quickly. Indeed, if I were to research geological/geothermal records for that day, it would not surpise me if, on the other side of the planet, my grandmother's act of superhuman athleticism, had started a tsunami or other wind related natural disaster. Her agility had no doubt broken the world. Before I could even laugh at what I thought was the most hilarious prank ever (it wasn't), she had ejected from the couch, flew around her coffee table, skipped over my head and ejected the movie from the VCR in a performance so grand, it would stick with me to this very day (it did).

I was in trouble. No doubt about it. And I knew what my punishment was. My predestined fate alone should have been tonic enough to stop me. Unfortunately, I was, as they say in the scientific community, a total dumbass. I was off to meet my maker. Off to one of the most feared places of my childhood.

My grandma's bedroom.

So onward I trudged, up the dark stairs, and into her room. Shivers ran down not just my spine, but my entire body. I was surrounded on all fronts by the creepiest collection of porcelain dolls, fur-derived clothing and, perhaps most frightening of all...Animal.

From "The Muppet Show."

I loved "The Muppet Show." Still do. And Animal is one of my favorites. But when you are 7 years old, surrounded by creepy dolls and an armadillo purse (not a joke) and the light switch is too high to reach? The drummer for Dr. Teeth and The Electic Mayhem is creepy as shit.

I learned my lesson that day, and oh, what a lesson it was: never, EVER, make your vermin-loathing grandmother face these tiny beasts against her will, or you will be forced to hide from Animal.

From the fucking "Muppet Show."