Grandpa has been in jail the past few weeks because of a few recent, let’s call them, “unsuccessful business ventures.” He needs $5,000 for bail so we’ve been trying to raise that money with our weekly NFL bets. Five games a week at $1,000 each.
We’re 8-7 the last three weeks. Not bad, but not good enough to get pops out from behind bars.
I started to get worried when I didn’t hear from grandpa on Thursday. He always called the house to go over the games for the week that night.
I thought maybe grandpa pissed off the wrong guy at county. You see, pops has a history of tussling with guys three times his size, and most of the time it didn’t end well. It’s okay, though. Pops always finds a way to get his revenge. Like the time he cleaned out Giovanni’s jewelry shelf one night when he wasn’t home.
But I didn’t have to worry about pops for long. I woke up at 4:30 in the morning on Friday to someone knocking at my back door. I grabbed my Louisville Slugger and headed down the hallway. Sure enough, there he was—still in his bright orange jail jumpsuit.
Me: “Grandpa! What the hell are you doing here?”
Grandpa: “Put that bat away, kid. What are you thinkin'? I’d have you on the ground so fast you wouldn’t even get a swing off.”
Me: “I know that pops, but I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you back here. Get inside the house!”
Grandpa: “Did you really think I was gonna sit in there for much longer? They woulda sent me away for a while if the judge heard my case.”
Me: “For sure. How did you get out?”
Grandpa: “I was in a heavy poker game with the guards and it got messy. I cleaned ‘em out for three grand in about two hours. They wanted their money back. We made a deal. They made sure the camera in my cell was turned off then let me out and had a car waiting for me. Dropped me off here and told me to get the hell out of town because the cops will be looking for me.”
Me: “Mom is in California right now. Use your fake identity and buy a ticket out there.”
Grandpa: “But then I’d have to eat her cooking.”
Me: “You got a better idea, pops? Sure can’t stay here. This is the first place they’ll look once the rest of the guards find your cell empty in the morning.”
Grandpa: “That’s why we have that trap door in the closet that leads down to the secret basement. I’m staying in there until we figure out what to do.”
Me: “I don’t think that’s a v—"
Grandpa: “I hid in there for three weeks that time Billy found out I was messin’ around with his wife. I’ll be fine. And call up Sammy. Let’s bet some NFL. I need money for liquor and pipe tobacco.”
Me: “And an airplane ticket.”
Grandpa: “Do me a favor, kid. Get me some clean clothes and a glass of scotch.”
Me: “What am I supposed to do with your orange jumpsuit?”
Grandpa: “Keep it as a souvenir.”
Me: “Maybe I’ll hang it out in the front yard in the morning. They’ll never think you’re here.”
Grandpa: “Hey kid, why don’t you make yourself useful for once and pick three more winners for us.”
Grandpa: “Go ahead and call those in with Sammy while I take a shower and make myself a salami sandwich.”
Me: “And then get down in the basement.”