“Do you want a vibrator?”
Normally, my answer would have been an energetic, “YES!” but considering the question originated with my 87 year old grandma, the answer was far less enthusiastic. Except from my dad.
That would be him going into shock. It would appear listening to his mother offer his daughter a battery operated boyfriend was more than he could handle.
Intrigued at how my grandmother came into possession of man’s greatest invention after the wheel and even more amused by my father’s discomfort, I pushed the issue.
“Where’d you get a vibrator, grandma? Adam & Eve? Hustle-“
“What, dad?” It was, I thought, a legitimate question.
“Mom, I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course I do. I’m talking about a vibrator, son.”
This was getting good. The pops was blowing a gasket and my grandma was an O.G.
“It was a gift with purchase for ordering those polyester pants I like. It’s a vibrator for your back.”
“Grandma, you got a vibrator to put in your ba-“
Dad was not amused. I was. Grandma was confused. She just wanted to know why her son, my dad, was yelling and turning bright red when all she wanted to do was give me a back massager.
“No thanks, Grandma. I already have a vibrator. Two, actually.”
“Melisa, I’m leaving the house to your sister.”
Dad – 1, Me – O, Grandma – ???