The little old lady hobbled, her back hunched, around the cramped aisles in the local store. She would pick things up, read the labels carefully, check the pricetags and ‘uhm’ and ‘ahh’ for a while.
Some things she placed into the basket which she struggled to carry around with her, her gnarled, arthritic fingers beginning to ache. Other things she put back onto the shelves. Mostly it was the good things she put back, the small luxuries like chocolate biscuits when she could only afford plain digestives. She thought about how she would make a cup of tea when she went home and how she’d put three or four biscuits on the doily covered china plate, the way she had when Jack was still alive.
She would sit in her armchair in her floral sitting room, the gas heater taking the chill out of her bones, and watch Countdown. She’d only eat one biscuit, perhaps two, but she would try and play the word games to keep her brain active. Just listening to Jack had done that for her, he knew so much, but now she was all on her own she couldn’t let herself fade away, much as she wanted to sometimes.
Maybe once a month she could treat herself to a bag of jellies or a quarter of lemon bonbons from the tall jars the local shopkeeper still kept on the high shelves behind the till. Other than that though it was just necessities. She made porridge every morning, maybe some soup for her dinner (which she always ate alone in the middle of the day) and a sandwich at tea-time. She didn’t much feel like cooking these days, what with Jack being gone and everything. Cooking for one was the loneliest thing she could ever think of.
She filled her basket with milk and bread, a spreadable butter, some cheese slices and a packet of ham. That would have to do until her pension was paid in a couple of days time. She didn’t mind too much. You get to a certain age and things stop mattering as much as they did when you were younger, she thought. What did you really need anyway?
The young girl behind the counter barely made eye contact with her as she rang up the groceries. The little old lady looked hopefully through her purse, perhaps there might have been a fiver folded up and in the corner, but she barely had enough. The young girl then ignored her outstretched hand and put the change down on the counter.
The little old lady sighed and asked if she could have a bag. The young girl told her that would be 22 cents and pushed a paper bag across the counter at her, not even helping to put the shopping into it. A man behind her tutted as she struggled to pack her messages, he obviously had somewhere to be in a hurry. The paper bag had no handles and it was difficult for her to carry. She could feel it slip even though she tried to hold it in a bear-hug to her chest. Even in his last days Jack had been strong, he’d have carried it for her. She felt her bottom lip tremble but she wouldn’t allow herself to do that in public. It wasn’t the done thing.
“Excuse me”, said the young boy who couldn’t have been more than ten years old, “would you like me to help you?”
Her bottom lip trembled once again, the random act of kindness had touched her. She wasn’t expecting it.
“Well if it’s no trouble to you. I don’t live very far away, just around the corner in fact.”
The little boy and the little old lady walked at her pace to her front gate which she opened for the little boy.
“Thank you so much”, she said. “You are very kind and your manners are a credit to your parents.”
“You’re welcome”, he said.
She opened the front door and asked him if he would be so kind as to leave the bag on the kitchen table. The little boy duly obliged and bade the little old lady a good afternoon.
“Wait”, she said, “I don’t have much but let me give you something to repay your kindness.”
“That’s really not necessary. I don’t do good deeds for the reward.”
“What a noble young man you are”, she said, “but I insist”.
She held out a 50cent coin in her trembling hands which shook so badly it fell on the ground.
“Oops”, she said.
“I’ll get it”, said the little boy bending down. Which is exactly when the little old lady took the hammer from inside her coat and brought it down with more strength than you might imagine on the back of his head. She didn’t hear him screaming as she hit him again and again and soon the noise stopped.
It would take her longer to get rid of the body without Jack but she was in no rush. What else did she have to do these days?
you cant go hiding your commentary on the state of our society today, and our neglect of the old and lonely and all that shite with the hammer blow at the end…
Splendid work.
oooooh ….that was good.
Didn’t see that coming, neither did the kid you might say, well done, sick but funny.
Never trust those little old ladies… they’ve also knobbled all the middle-aged tall women… just why do you think there are only little old ladies???
Fuck me you had me going there,nearly brought a tear to me eye. Evil bastard.
Haha! Excellent!
Yeah that was heart wrenching stuff till the end. I could’ve been that obliging young boy, brings a chill to my bones to think about it really, evil old bitch.
Jaysus.
Jaysus exactly and jay and sus and whitlow and eric y all loved it! we almost gave up with the sappy beginning but new there must be something more interesting coming and whitlow agrees that we were rewarded.
eric y and jay whitlow and their friend sammie
You said she was on a budget, so it doesn’t take too much imagination to figure out what she did with the corpse.
If the little boy was a little tinker kid who’s plan was to fleece the little ladies establishment to fund his growing narcotic addiction or his families poor state then the little lady had her wits about her. Not all would be as prepared as this old lady.
you evil fuck….hahahahaha….this was a brilliant way to start my tuesday morning :D
I think you’ve been reading Patricia Highsmith again and getting a lot of nasty thoughts and plots.
Even if she cuts the fucker up she has to be prepared to put the body parts in the correct bin these days. Recycling mistakes can catch you out if you’re not careful.
I thought you were going to go with the old lady offering him a blowjob.
But I guess your ending is better.
That Jack is some bollix.
So where is Jack – dead or alive – is he banged up or dead – I’m so confused and it’s only Tuesday
Oh young maan young maaan young maaaaan!
The pathos nearly had me in tears, I really thought you were going to do an Age Action piece ya cunt ya.
Now THAT brought a tear to my arse.
it’s the weather, right?
Make a good short film. Could have it as a filler before the Angeles.
Why did she buy ham the stupid auld cunt when she had good fresh young boy to cook?
Almost as good as the script for “roaring twenties”, do you consult on that too ?
Those packets of ham are a convenience item and are more expensive than buying sliced from the deli-guy. She should be more careful if she’s on a budget. Dopey old bat.
Aaaah! Roald Dahl’s “tales of the unexpected”….Did you get the DVD’s for christmas Twenty?
What next? a story about a little house on the Burren with two wee girls, their two donkeys and their ma’ and pa and end it with…?
Is this the fetid outcome of a creative writing course? Or, is it some febrile attempt to storm the Irish bloggers awards on a literary?
Nice one, Twenty.
We are not worthy.
Jaysis Twenty, you’re back in force! The Gerry Ryan commentary was remarkable enough but this…. this just is… NASTY!!
Fair play you you sir! Looking forward to this book!
Mommy?
Ahhh… that’s a lovely story! I love happy endings.
didn’t see that coming.
I thought the 10 year old was going to rape and murder her
well written little story.
needs more nudity though.
gotta sex it up you know.
do you like the thought of the old woman been nude?
That’s what you get for robbing grannies. She shoulda got a PLASTIC bag for her 22 cents, not some crappy paper one.
No wonder she had that murderous rage welling up inside her. It probably wasn’t even the first time she was done either.
Goddamn granny-robbing supermarkets – they’re responsible for more granny related crime than we’re led to believe. Bastards.
Goddamn granny-robbing supermarkets – they’re responsible for more granny related crime than we’re led to believe. Bastards.
You could be onto something there RJ
She should have let Jack bring young boys home years ago, it’s too late now he’s fucked off to Tailand.
there’s nothing wrong with old women Peadar.
Its all about experience.
You sick puppy, ha ha!
Like it. Is there a sequel?
I’d have preferred it if the granny had been viciously raped at some point. Nonetheless, I enjoyed your yarn.
Excellent. Had me going…
Was it a clawhammer or one of those little skinny ones you use for upholstery classes? I REALLY need to know as I’m doing upholstery and there’s this little fucker who’s been annoyin’ me…………………………….!
perhaps the answer to your question of yesterday.
Little old lady kills Rudy?
thants 45 seconds i’ll never get back..
Thanks a lot twenty..
I haven’t been reading this blog for long, but I saw that one coming.
(Unlike the little scrote who wore the hammer in the head).
would’ve been more of a surprise if you said she was a granny. everyone know little old ladies are vicious and constructed entirely from acute angles. anyone who shops in guineys all the time can clearly not be trusted.
Let me guess- you spent last night round at Dirty Dave’s place watching his Supergran Videos?
It could have been worse she could have kept him alive and kept him, and fed him on that packet ham sliced cheese and spreadable butter, poor little bastard would have porbably begged her to take him to Aldi for something proper to eat..
Thank fuck.
I thought you were going to have her robbed or murdered. A little granny killer straight from the “Arsenic and Old Lace” vein put a smile on my face.
Did she cut off the boys face and then wear it as a mask to go and rob old grannies?
figured it was too good to last…
Everytime a person laughs at a story like this, God kills a puppy…..
Jaysus, Twenty, once again I’ve wasted 4 mins of my life reading this worryingly deranged piece of detritus…
Shite.
Strictly for sychophants.
“Please Twenty, can I put my tongue up your hole, again.”
You could have done the decent thing and started with the murder, like in memento.
Please podcast this story, or let someone do it… (GrannyMar? Grandad?)