Gramps Sitting

Flash Fiction

Grampa Sitting

“Carry on, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home…”

“What’s a chariot? Is it candy?”

“Now how could candy carry you home?” Grampa laughed.

“I don’t know, they say crazy things in songs. What is it?” Joe asked.

“A chariot is like a wagon. I don’t even know if they make them anymore. They were even before me really.”

“Before you? What does that mean?”

“I mean when I was your age, I’m pretty sure nobody had a chariot. Well, nobody I knew!”

“How did you know what it was?”

“I guess I asked somebody when I heard it in the song. We sang that song in school… I think…”

“You don’t remember?”

“Honey, that was years ago. You’re in second grade, right? Well, I was in second grade in nineteen fifty-five.”

“What the heck is nineteen fifty-five?!”

“It’s the name of the year…

“That can’t be true. Our years names always say twenty something. Like when I was born, it was twenty eighteen.”

“Well, how about your mother? She got you in twenty eighteen, but when was she born? She was thirty-two years old when you were born. But there were only eighteen years, from the start of the twenties, to get to get to twenty eighteen.”

“Oh… so it was nineteen something?”

“Very smart there, cookie! Now I have a bone to pick with you. How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, a hundred? Hey! Where are we gonna pick bones? That sounds fun! We never did that before!”

“Ah… I believe it’s a bit too late for bone picking today, sorry” Gramps said, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Maybe another day? It sounds fun!”

“We’ll, have to check that with your mother. We better go home now Gramps seems to be very tired....”

“OK Gramps!