HELP!

I escape to the city (Christchurch) every two weeks to visit friends, load up with groceries, go to the movies and eat Sushi. I wouldn’t dare do a full shop at the Rip U Off Mart here in Crappalvania, I refuse to pay $12 for a box of cereal no matter what the prize inside is.

When Eva heard I was going she asked if she could come. She wanted to do some shopping as well, get her photos developed and get her blood pressure checked. I couldn’t say no to a Classic Grandmother. Now, in hindsight, I wish I would have.

The drive to the city is roughly 1.5 hours, but because it is summer, or as I like to call it ‘road construction season’ it is more like 2 hours. I’m not a fan of driving unless it is on the open road. I roll down the window, crank the stereo and sing at the top of my lungs. It makes me feel free and I just forget about everything and only concentrate on what the next verse is in a song. Basically it makes me stupid happy.

When Eva first moved in and heard I enjoyed writing she told me she had written a book. A book she was trying to get published and a book someone told her should be turned into a movie. It is about how her ancestors settled in Australia in the early 1900’s. I told her I would like to read it one day if she would let. READ being the key word there.

I didn’t know what to expect on the drive to the city. I was hoping I could just do what I always do and because Eva couldn’t hear very well and wouldn’t mine my off key singing. WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! DEAD WRONG!

Captive – one who is imprisoned with no hope of escaping

The moment I sparked the engine I was literally Eva’s captive audience. I wanted to read her book, but instead I got the two hour narrative and in the native accent. Do you know the origin of the term ‘piggyback’? I do. I didn’t want to, but I had no choice! I even rolled the window down at one point to try and drown her out, but it didn’t work! She faded in and out and the story wasn’t making any sense. It was like riding with Grandpa Simpson! I thought about gauging my eyes out and crashing but then I would never find out what is going on with that bloody island in LOST. I was trapped and screaming for sweet release in my head but I couldn’t hear myself over her endless talking!

The return trip home wasn’t any better. It was a detailed account of everything we drove by: “Aye, look at thee cows stunding therrre.” “Those montans arrr exquisite, stunding therrre so still.” “Haas you evrr seen a cloud like that one, stunding in the sky like that?”
I drove like the wind, trying to flee the constant chatter, but it just stayed with me, scratching my ears until I could feel the blood trickling out.

Now I know what you’re thinking, how could I be so awful, right? Well don’t let the little old Classic Grandmother look fool you as it did me. When I took Eva shopping she turned into an evil, rude demanding meanie. She shouted at people to get out of the way, sneered at loud unruly children and hit people with her buggy. She ordered a stock boy to ‘fetch’ her kitchen wrap and when he came back with kitchen wrap she told him it was wrong and smacked it out of his hands. I could only stand there with my mouth open in horror. When we got back into the car I told her I thought she was a little bit rough on the stock boy and she replied “I’m a bitch and I dunna care. Drive me home now.”

This trip was a real eye opener and the moral of the story is: ‘Not all old people, even if they do bake sweets all day and go to church three times a week, are nice.” All I know is I had better at least have one foot in Heaven’s gate after having spent the day with Satan’s bride.