Sunday, August 07, 2005

Small Dreams Of A Scorpion

Although there was little sun, we sat in the garden, around the circular table, the one that spins with the slightest push, meaning that your drink will more often than not end up on the other side of the table, and someone else's glass gleaming in front of you. Both grandparents were there, one (the blinder one) wearing a baseball cap, and muttering to himself in Arabic, the other with fluffed up blonde hair, and a kindly smile permanently painted on her face. My aunt and my mother sat next to each other, drunken smiles plastered across their oddly similar faces. The birds twittered, and a wasp buzzed around the sticky edges of the glasses, mostly ignored by the congregation. My grandmother opened her mouth to speak, her cheeks ruddy with alcohol, and hesitated slightly, proclaiming her subject of choice to be "not really for public hearing". She glanced meaningfully at me, but then carried on, regardless of her previous inhibitions.

"I heard on the wireless," she said, leaning forward slightly, her voice lowered to a stage whisper, "that men over the age of fifty are most sexually..." She paused, and looked at me again. My aunt and mother exchanged looks of drunken amusement. My mouth opened in horror. "Are most sexually..." She attempted to continue, but again faltered on her next words, looking at me apologetically. "Well, apparently they are most sexually, uh, satisfying." She took a deep breath, and sat back in her chair, seemingly relieved at having at last finished her sentence. Both my aunt and my mother cackled in a similarly drunken fashion, looking at me for my reaction. I tried to hide under the table, willing myself to be removed from this company. Discussing the sexual antics and pleasures of old men with my grandmother is not really the sort of thing I want to be doing on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

My grandfather grunted in reply, adjusting his cap, and swatting blindly at the nearby wasp. "Well, you see, my dear" my grandmother continued, turning to face her husband, "I was just seeing if I could remember."

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Fati is weird. Just plain weird. Just plain WRONG. SHE SHOULD BE TRANQUILISED AND LOCKED UP IN A PADDED CELL IN A STRIGHTJACKET AND LOCKED UP WITH THE KEY THROWN AWAY. Ah, imagine how great it would be in I ruled the world and made crazy laws. Like hippos. Aren't hippos wonderful. In my perfect 'utopia', there would be at least 6 days a year dedicted to worshiping hippopotamous's. I dare you to tell me i spelt that wrong.

Cassie said...

I have no idea if you spelt it wrong. But there is a random misplaced apostrophe there. So HA.

fati. said...

what, hello, not me surely?

You spelt straitjacket wrong. It can also be spelt as straightjacket.
I know, as I checked.