Slipping Into Oblivion

"I ate my dinner. Would it be a great inconvenience to comb your hair?"

"No. In fact, it would be a great pleasure. Please, come sit beside me. Oh yes, you have such strong hands; your grip on the brush and the pressure upon my top is divine indeed!"

"Haha, Oh Grandma, your tongue is so wild, like a sweet melon being sloshed of its innards."

"I only hope you don't comb with such vigor that you remove my scalp and crush my skull compartment into pieces. But I suppose my brain could use a good brushing."

"Grandma, would you like me to comb your back?"

"If you insist sweet child. What a precious gift you are! That's it, keep combing, all the way down to the tail my dear. Say, wouldn't it be fetching to give my teeth a good cleaning? I haven't made way to a dentist in some time."

"Do they give you pain or suffering Grandma?"

"No child, but they are rather discolored. What if I privy a night out on the old town?"

"Grandma! At your age, I would harp that you do no such thing."

"Ah, but what a hot time it would be. What if my prince were waiting on steed, sword in hand, waiting to carry me away?"

"What if?"

"Well, he would see my teeth and keep right on going, that would be the deed that transpires."

"What about Grandpapa. Have you no respect for what he would anticipate?"

"Little one, he passed away decades ago. My vows are still true, as true as that great horned owl that swooped out of the sky like an albatross upon a salmon in the headwaters. He was an engrossing man, virile, and uncomplex to the point of tedium. His death was inexplicably macabre. But, in the by and by, he would have embraced me moving on."

"How can you be so sure Grandma Rat?"

"He was uncomplex like I say, but also a downright sourpuss. He languished in swimming the waters of melancholy and ambiguity. Yes, it was as if he had called that great owl to zero in on him as he stood there, in open view, dead of night. I told him to come in from the storm, 'come in Paulsy' I said. 'The night is ripe with reapers and you have a glassy-eyed target on your face.' I suppose I dozed off into slumber, for when I awoke and rose to the window all I saw was Paulsy, with his body plucked clean from his head, which was all that remained. The only thing more torturous was my movement to his body, drowning in tears, I crossed the tree hole and over the swallows' sticks and as I came close enough to look into his wide blue eyes, a sparrow flew down and picked his head up and departed into the twilight."

"How awful, Grandma!"

"Yes, but the worst and most distressing was still to come. A winter fell soon after, and I had made a fire in the tree base to warm my bones. The chimney, you see, was not operating to par and I feared the whole tree would burn alive. So, I got bundled up and made my way into the thick of it, climbing up the tree, brushing off the snow and braving the brash wind as I went."

"What happened next, Grandma?"

"Well child, I made it to the chimney and found some foolish rodent had nested a stockade of acorns and trash in a crevice in the branch restricting my ventilation. I jammed and I jabbed until my situation was resolved. In the process, a deathcloud of smoke shot for freedom into the direction of my face, sending me into hysterics and consequently causing me to fall, or slide rather, down the tree."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes, but you see, something, or someone caught me. I landed right on my arse, in a nest--an abandoned sparrow's nest to be more exacting. Now, it was winter, and of course there was no sparrow to be seen, but there were two eyes, one lonely face, and no body in its place."

"It couldn't have been Grandpapa!"

"I'm afraid it was. Half skull, half fur-skinned, unused and pleasantly unbothered. There he was. I sat there as long as I could, becoming frostbitten under the snow's weight. Finally, I went over to him, brushed the icy earth away from his head and kissed his lips. And I swear to you, little child, they were as warm and suffocating as the smoke still filling my lungs."

"So, you just left him up there?"

"Yes, I did. Paulsy loved the outdoors. He loved being planted up in the trees, catching a high from the morning breeze and making no gripes about bird droppings or cricket carousing. Of course, he loved the winter most of all, winter is a dejected man's stomping grounds you must understand."

"Wow, what a delightfully upsetting tale Grandma. I can't believe Grandpapa had such a tragic come-to."

"He did. But time is nothing more than a Shepard's hook, guiding us closer to the flock and farther from the fires."

"So, if there is a message in this for me Grandma, what might it be?"

"I would say, sweet Fern, you should appreciate those blessed romances you will kill or let near kill you. You see, no matter how hard you try to make something that seems so right, correct, or someone as uninformed as possible to your overpowering mental leakings, some may always and forever be twisted into pieces inside like a knotty pine tree, or like your Grandpa Paulsy. But they still have merit and should nay be easily given up on and thrown to the great landfill beyond the reaches of the sky."

"It's hard letting someone you cherish and adore go sometimes, isn't it Grandma?"

"Yes, it is child. It truly is."

"Now Grandma, about those teeth. Let's take a look. Say Ahh..."

"Ahhhh..."

"Grandma, what an awful collection of bugs and baby sparrow's egg juice you have stuck in here. I'll have to get the big teething brush for this occupation!"

"Be gentle, my dear, be gentle."