Bob is my 80 year old grandfather, but I call him Bob instead of grandfather. Always have. I moved from my parent's house in January 2010 to Bob's house. Bob is eccentric, even as far as old men go. I always appreciated it, but I was never quite exposed to it this much. Now, I want everyone to know about my experiences. You may laugh, but I shake my head. All of these short stories are true. They are not fabricated or exaggerated. They are Bob at his finest. If 'finest' is the right word
Monday, May 10, 2010
Thunderstorm
I woke up to the sound of my bedroom door opening. At 5:06 AM, in peers the scantily-clad silhouette of Bob. "What do you want?", I ask. "There's a thunderstorm outside," he replies. With that, he closes my door and goes back to his room. All of a sudden, the storm that could not wake me before prohibits my returning to sleep now. However, thanks to the maroon-robed wonder, I'm now aware there is a storm outside.
