Glen helped his grandmother into the bathtub with great care. It was something Glen did every Sunday.
"Watch my arm pit hair, boy" she said in a raspy smoker's voice.
"Yes, grandma" he replied in his normal sheepish manner.
Glen took off his thick black framed glasses and placed them on the sink. He began rolling up his sleeves, as he mentally prepared himself for the task at hand. This wasn't Glen's first time, but for some reason it never seemed to get easier.
"Alright grandma, I'm gonna wash you with this rag. OK?"
"I don't give a fuck, boy!" she huffed. "You just make sure you do a good job like you're supposed to... and don't forget to take your time on my kitty!"
Grandma layed back in the tub, closing her eyes. Glen decided to close his eyes as well, as he began to slide his hand down her pale white pudding-like abdomen.
"Whatever you say, grandma"
Grandma's AM radio sat on the window sill playing Paul Harvey's broadcast.
"I said do a good job, boy! My clitoris isn't gonna clean itself, dammit!" she bellowed while taking a drag on her Marlboro. "Now.. counter-clockwise for twenty minutes, like I taught ya" She placed a damp washcloth over her eyes, and began humming to the radio.
"I love you, Grandma,"
"I love you too, Glen. Now keep scrubbing,"
Glen slowly reached out for the radio cord to give it one good jerk towards the soupy broth.
to be continued...
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