The Day I Maced Grandma

The Day I Maced Grandma

by Grandpa

OK kids, listen up. Here's the true story of how I maced your grandma, (great-grandma to some of you.)

It started out like a normal shopping day. We got up early and drove north 18 miles to Newport, our closest city with more than one stop light. Grandma and I figure it's worth the drive every other week or so, to take advantage of the lower prices. We usually go to Wal-Mart first, then to the bakery for day old bread, and on the way home we stop by the Dollar Tree to look for more bargains.

The huge Wal-Mart parking lot was nearly empty, so we were able to park fairly close to the door. As we went inside past the greeter, who sleepily intoned, “Welcome to Wal-Mart,” we could hear the supervisors giving their employees an early morning pep talk.

“Now let's get out there and sell, don't forget to smile, and who's number one?”

“The customer!' a chorus of voices half-heartedly chimed in.

We picked up some various “made in China” merchandise along with some groceries,dog food, paper towels, toothpaste, shampoo, etc. and wheeled our cart up to a lonely cashier in an empty checkout lane. “It sure is easier to shop when we get here early,” grandma remarked.

“Yep, we're getting too old to fight the crowds anymore,” I said. The cashier grunted in agreement, almost forgetting the smile part of her pep talk, as she loaded our stuff in plastic bags and thanked us for shopping at Wal-Mart. The greeter thanked us for shopping at Wal-Mart again as we went through the door.

Next stop was the day old bread store at the local bakery. It's a small store, (only two shopping carts) but it's a good place for senior citizens like us to save some money. We found some loaves of my favorite rye, some hamburger buns and some whole wheat bread for grandma. We'd keep a couple of loaves out to use and stick the rest in the freezer when we got home.

The Dollar Tree was just opening up as we pulled into the parking lot. I figured we might be a while, because you never could tell what kind of one-dollar bargains we would find there. One thing for sure - there was no rushing grandma, so I went scouting on my own, bringing back items for her approval.

I brought back a jar of olives, a couple cans of chicken noodle soup, some reading glasses which I used to see the fine print on the olive jar, (a product of Turkey,) and a dog chew toy (made in China.) Grandma nodded OK at my selections and said,”While you're wandering around, see if you can find some room deodorizer spray.”

When I found it, the selection was staggering: Lemon Flower, Delicious Apple, Luscious Peach, Blue Splash, Mango, Mandarin Orange, ( My mouth started watering) Vanilla Royale, Wild Rose, and more.

Which to choose. I grabbed a can of Wild Rose and tried to find grandma. Sometimes she manages to somehow hide behind the display ends and no matter how many aisles I look down, or how many times I go back and forth looking she's never there. The best solution is to stay put and let her find me.

Pretty soon I heard her call my name from behind me. (She always sneaks up behind me, I don't know how she does it.) “Did you find some deodorizer?” I held the can of Wild Rose out and decided to give a sample spritz in front of her so she could see what it smelled like.

Now over my seventy-odd years, I've used many spray cans. I spray-can painted a tractor once, spray- can lacquered all of the tables and chairs in a restaurant, and I spray butter flavored, no stick cooking spray in my egg skillet every morning. You push the button down and the spray comes out the front, right? Well, this one didn't work that way.

I pushed the button and it sprayed straight out of the top right into grandmas face. Really hard. Really a lot. (Maybe I shouldn't have nervously shook the can so much while I was waiting for her.)

Grandma yelled something at me, I don't remember what it was, it's probably blocked from my memory, (hopefully forever.) Red faced and partially blinded, she groped for a tissue to wipe her streaming eyes. “Gaack, ptooey! That's awful!” she sputtered. The whole aisle smelled like rotten rose petals. The other customers quickly cleared the area.

Horrified at what I'd done, besides saying how sorry I was, I didn't know what else to do. If I'd asked the store manager for help she would probably have suspected me of grandma abuse, or at the very least spraying before paying. She might even call the cops, the EPA or Homeland Security.

Thankfully the weeping, spitting and sputtering was dying down, so I got up the courage to meekly ask,”Well, what do you think? Of the smell, I mean. Is it OK?”

In a low voice that could have come from the pits of Hades, she said, “Put it back and get me the hell out of here!”

Before I put the can of Wild Rose back on the shelf I grabbed my new glasses and read on the bottom: Made in China.

Damn Chinese, I think it's a nefarious plot to slowly wipe us out, one spritz at a time!