A RAINY DAY WITH GRANDPA a short story part 1
29th, October 29, 2010. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. Young Bertie was bored, bored stiff. He walked restlessly about the large cold house thinking of something to do. He was a little fatty so any games involving running around or up and down stairs was out of the question, not to mention he was the only child in his family and the only child in the house. Bertie wasn’t awfully clever either, not to say if he ever felt like setting his mind to something he wouldn’t achieve it, quite the opposite, he would achieve it, but he had never set his mind to anything so to say he was clever would be like saying “I have a casket of gold nuggets at the bottom of the ocean but I don’t have a boat or a diving suit”, Bertie was lazy. The one thing he was good at was mischief, his selective slovenliness would fly out the window if he perceived any occasion to wreak a bit of havoc.
His mother was out as usually and his father was inaccessible behind two locked doors in his attic study. “What’s he studying on a Sunday?” Bertie thought to himself huffily. The only other person in the house apart from nurse was Grandpa, Grandpa Sedgwig. “ I will go and see if Grandpas up for some fun” Bertie thought to himself with a sigh of resignation, not completely thrilled with the idea but it was better than standing on the landing which was proving to be completely dull.
Grampa Sedgwig was down stairs in his own study, the fire crackling in the pot bellied fire. He was sitting looking out of the tall French windows observing with deep thought how the rain comes down. “What are you doing Grandpa?” Bertie asked “If you want me to talk to you please go out and knock on the door like a real human being” a voice said from the back of Grandpas head. Bertie left and closed the door and knocked, trying to make it as annoying as he possibly could by banging with great speed and with both fists. “all right come in you ugly tub of lard, you’re going to bring the whole house down otherwise” Grandpa Sedgwig said angrily turning around from his rain studies and flashing a pair of very impressive eye brows, they were like massive tidal waves coming out of the eye socket ridges which had reached braking point and then where frozen. Hanging like white icicles above his deep set eyes.
“Can you tell me a story Grandpa? I am so bored in here there is nothing to do, tell me a good one” Bertie said as he joined Grandpa by the French windows. “Alright but put another log on the fire and get me a ham sand wedge and a hot chocolate” Grandpa Sedgwig replied. “But you’re not allowed hot choc?” Bertie said “well tell your wicked nurse it’s for you then you blithering idiot” Grandpa Sedgwig replied with gusto.
Bertie did all of this without complaining, doing his best to make a really bad job of putting another log on the fire. ‘ oh you block headed oaf, its plain to see that that log is far too big, put that one on….no not that one, LOOK! Where am I pointing? Yes that one, No you’re making a dam mess” Grandpa said getting noticeably agitarto. When he had made a pig’s ear of the log business Bertie skipped to the kitchen and ordered a ham sand wedge and a hot choc from nurse. He took them back and placed them on a chair side table next to Grandpa. “Come on then Gramps tell me a story like you said you would” Bertie said standing up straight with hand behind his back. Grandpa Sedgwigs mouth opened in indignation at the little boy’s cheek but he didn’t follow though to actually say anything. Instead he took a gummy bite or maybe a gummy lip press of his hamwedge.
“Very well then, sit down and shut up and if I hear you say anything like ‘why’ or ‘but’ then I am going to stop immediately. Alright?” Grandpa Sedgwig said pointing a shaky finger at his grandson. “Of course Gramps I will be as quiet as a mouse, but make sure you make the story line clear, I wouldn’t want you to get all confused if I am not allowed to ask questions” Bertie said zipping his lips shut. “AND DON’T CALL ME GRAMPS!” Grandpa Sedgwig shouted testily. “Right, sorry won’t happen again I promise” Bertie replied holding up a oath swearing palm with the other on his podgy chest.
Grandpa began his tail, sitting back in his rocking chair and resuming his thousand yard stare out the rain drenched French windows. “Once upon a time there was a young boy very much like you; he was very clever and brave. We enter this story with him running away from an armored hooligan.
A long streak of a young man sailed other a low hedge, his short golden hair a flame in the sun light, his cloths those of a present but his face, kind, honest and strong was that of royalty. “Come back here you little ragamuffin, I am going to have your guts for garter” said a heavily armored guard trailing behind him. The guard tried to clear the low hedge but due to his metal protection he fell flat on his face doing a graceless summersault, head over heels and came crashing down half in and half out of the hedge. Our hero Macadamian continued to run over the field bounding like a swift gazelle in between the grazing cows, heading down the hill and over another fence and down into the valley and into the village of Cornwood. A small sleepy village snuggling between rolling hills and lush tall trees.
The sun was shining, the birds where twittering to one another, a fox was making off with a squawking chicken pursued by a gaggle of yodeling grannies, a cow was doing a pat and all was well. Macadamian ran down the cobbled stone street hallooing the butcher the baker, the milk maids and the school teacher. He burst into his Grandparents house, a small cozy thatched cottage; his Grandma was stirring a small pot of gruel in the fire place while his Grandpa was lying in bed in the corner. “Core blimy you nearly scared my socks off, you did, don’t be coming back in such a flappin flurry, youl give uz both an art attack” Grandma said all of a fluster. “I am sorry Grandma I didn’t mean to scare you” Macadamian said huffing and puffing “and you forgot your choires, you know the dust isn’t good for Grandpas frote, he coughs up a herd of dirt every time you forget to clean and you know I cannot do it myself all those years of looking after you and slavin in the fields have given me back and me hips terrible jip” The old crone kept up her sour complaining as our handsome hero Macadamian approached his beloved Grandfather.
“ Grandpa, I have what you need, it wasn’t easy, Baron Gronchkin won’t be happy when he finds out his Whiskey is missing, I got the oldest and most fancy bottle in his cabinet, look its over 200 years old” Macadamian whispered in his poor ill relatives ear. With a shaking hand Grandpa reached for the bottle concealed under Macadamians waist coat. “Thank you son, now I am almost well enough to get out of bed, then I can show you where the treasure is” Grandpa said as he took a glug of the whiskey.
Over the next couple of week our diligent rogue Macadamian, continued to find inventive tricks and clever ways to bring his poor frail Grandpa his medicine, even though everyone told him not to. Soon Grandpa became strong and new again, first being able to get out of bed on his own and then one day very much like today a rainy Sunday he was finally strong enough to show Macadamian the family treasure.
Macadamian and Grandpa walked out up and over the hills out of Cornwood, they wore thick oily leather rain coats and slogged hard and long over hill and through valley, all made possible by the medicine which Macadamian had brought poor Grandpa. Finally as the light was failing Grandpa led them through deep foliage in a copse. Brambles and thorns scratching and clinging to them both “we are almost there son, almost at your treasure”. Shortly they left the thick scratchiness and popped out in a little glade. A green shrubbery bang in the centre. Grandpa walked up to it and pulled hard for a while and eventually the shrubbery was plucked out and a wooden piece of wood was visible in the sodden earth. Macadamian knelt down and began to sift away the wet earth with his bare eager hands. A large wooden chest was reveled and when exposed and taken out Grandpa handed a heavy silver key to Macadamian “you deserved this boy, for all yur help, no good deed goes unrewarded”.
Macadamian took the key, mouth open in awe and toes twinkling with excitement he thrust the key into the chest and turned it with great effort, a internal click sounded and the chest burst open revealing Gold and silver”.
Little Bertie who had up until this point held a strained and ‘what happened next?’ look on his face, like a dog who is waiting for dinner then dropped his look in confused disappointment. “ Gold?, is that all?” he asked “ no that isn’t all, underneath the gold there was chocolate and sweets, toy trucks and puppies, the chest was magic and was in fact bottomless, it granted Machadamian anything he so wished to think of. Machadamian was so happy that he had helped his Grandpa, otherwise he would never have been able to get his secret families treasure and live happily ever after having adventure after adventure forevermore. The end”
Bertie gave a satisfied sigh as the story sunk in and he imagined what he would do with an infinite treasure chest. Grandpa Sedgwig would see the slow cogs, unfamiliar to movement turning inside his grandsons head, a millisecond before the question could be passed from the brain to the lungs up to the lips and out Grandpa Sedgwig held up a silencing finger “and remember where why, get you, first sign of one and you’re out of here” He said with menace.
“Please tell me more about Macadamian, what happened next?” the boy was wide eyed and attentive, hanging on the rounded edges of Grandpa Sedgwigs words. “ I would be more than happy to tell you more about our man Macadamian buy my throat is so parched, this hot chocolate just isn’t doing the trick” Grandpa said with a dry wheezing cough “ can I get you something else to drink Grandpa?” Bertie asked earnestly “yes you can my boy, I must ask you to be like our brave Macadamian and perform a secret adventurous task for me, and can you do that?” Grandpa Sedgwig said in a conspiratorial tone. Bertie hopped up like an electrified frog and adopted a crouching ready pose not unlike a highly attentive and spruced tiger. “do you need me to steal some whiskey from a barons mansion?” Bertie asked excitedly. “Well you’ve got it half right my boy, all I need you to do is……..
END OF PART 1