It was a beautiful Saturday morning when my son Tom called.
“Dad, Allie’s gone into early labor! We need you to stay with Molly.” He sounded excited and nervous.
“I’m on my way!” I immediately answered.
As soon as I arrived Tom and Allie left for the hospital.
“Grampy, can we go to the school fair?” Molly asked. “Daddy was gonna take me today.”
“Sure, pumpkin. Let’s go!” I replied – anything to help pass the time.
The playground of Molly’s school, St. Cecilia’s Elementary for Girls, had been magically transformed into a carnival with food stands, games of chance and a giant inflated pirate ship.
“Look, Grampy! A bouncy ship!” Molly tugged at my sleeve. “Can I go on, please?”
“You bet, honey! Looks like fun!” I gave my granddaughter a boost. I was half in and half out when the ship started bouncing, taking me for a ride I’ll not soon forget!
Well, a bouncy anything is no place for a 60-year-old man and 20 little girls. They were rolling all over me and every time the damn thing came to a stop, I tried getting out but kept losing my balance.
Then, just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, the pirate ship was surrounded by police. One cop with a megaphone shouted “Sir, this is for children only. You’re in serious trouble. Come out now or we’ll come in and drag you out!”
I finally managed to crawl my way out. My clothes were in total disarray, little girls were crying and I heard someone yell “You sick bastard!”
Arr! I made the news that night. My fifteen minutes of fame!