hot daddy and the monkey puppets

BLOOD. AN INTRUDER. MY GRANDPA. This story includes all of those things.

This story I have not yet heard firsthand, but I received an hour-long version from my dad, so I learned a lot of detail. It stars my Grandpa, and it is all true.

Sunday, February 19th, 8:00 AM. Grandpa wakes up and shuffles into the living room to turn the thermostat up, as he usually does. He isn’t wearing his glasses, so things are a little fuzzy. He rounds the corner, enters the living room, and sees a man sitting in his armchair next to the fire place. He wonders, who is that? Who’s in my living room? Has somebody been waiting for me? He often has family filtering in and out, and he’s the most popular guy on the block, so it could be anybody. He walks closer… doesn’t recognize who it is. He walks even closer, and can tell it’s a man. He’s face to face with a guy a complete stranger, fast asleep in his chair for no explainable reason.

What’s the first thing anyone would do in this situation? GET OUT OF THERE AND CALL THE COPS, right? That’s not what my Grandpa did. He moseyed back into his bedroom, got dressed, fixed his hair, got ready for the day, and went back to check on the guy. Just to be safe, he brought his cane with him in case he needed to fend the guy off in the event of an attack. Grandpa is 90 YEARS OLD, he NEEDS that cane to walk - you could push him over without even trying! But, whatever. I guess you can quit the Marines, but you don’t ever stop being a Marine.

So, the guy in the chair appears to be in his mid-twenties. He’s got jet black hair, is dressed nicely, and appears to be a pretty straight-laced guy. There are a couple odd things, though: for one, he doesn’t have any shoes on. Upon further inspection, Grandpa found one of his shoes on the back porch, where he had broken in - (not that it’s hard to break into a door that’s never locked.) He figured the man had come in between 12 and 3 AM, because snow had started falling afterwards, and there were no footprints to be found. Somehow this guy wandered through the back door, through the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the living room without knocking into a single chair, china cabinet, wall, etc. Anyway, the second bizarre thing was that Grandpa noticed that blood had been dripping from the guy’s left arm and was now pooled on the carpet next to the chair. You’d think he’d call for an ambulance at this point, or any sort of professional help, but no. He shuffles into his kitchen, gets a wet rag, and then comes back to set it on top of the stain. “You have to keep blood wet, or else you can’t get it out!” :D

By now, it’s been an entire hour since he discovered the guy in the chair. Grandpa decides to wake him up by tapping his shin with his cane. “Hey! Hey you! What are you doing in my house?” He doesn’t say this with malice or fear, but inquisitively. “Who are you? How’d you get here?” The guy was completely hung over, and it took Grandpa a half hour to rouse him completely and get any sort of information out of him. The guy apologized profusely, having no idea why he was there or how he’d gotten in. He kept saying stuff like, “you’re being so nice to me… you should have called the cops on me!” He tried to get out of the chair and my Grandpa tells him to sit back down. “Don’t get up, just sit there, let me talk to ya,” he says. Grandpa starts interrogating him! Hahahaha

He figured out some basic things - what his name was, how old he was (26), where he worked, that he had been out with a friend of a friend the night before and couldn’t remember what they’d done. After talking for a bit, Grandpa says, “Well, son, I betcha gotta use the bathroom. Why don’t you use mine?” He gets up and shows him where it is, and the intruder thanked him up and down. He comes out, and then Grandpa’s all, “Well, I bet you’re hungry. Come sit in my kitchen.” Grandpa sits the guy down, pours him orange juice and makes him toast!!! AHAHAHA Meanwhile the guy continues to thank him for being so nice, expressing his complete amazement, and Grandpa tells him straight up how lucky he is he stumbled into his house, of all the houses on the block. hey examine the guy’s bleeding arm, and there are three big scratches that don’t appear to be knife marks, but were obviously big enough to draw blood. Maybe he had jumped a chain link fence? Maybe he’d run into a tree? They never figured it out, and we will never know what happened. Okay, then get this - the guy asks him if he can call a taxi. My Grandpa’s all, “Where’s your car?” The guy had left it at work. Grandpa then says, “Well, I got a car, I’ll drive ya.” LOLOLOLOLOL

I can just imagine Grandpa scootin’ around the house, slowly putting on his coats and boots and hat, then making his way down the steps to his driveway. And that Sunday morning, it was snowing. It was snowing hard. Grandpa, the sweetest man in the world, put the guy in his car and drove him back to work.

While talking with him in the car, he learned a bit more about the guy’s family situation and what he does. When they arrived at the guy’s car, the guy tried to offer him money for the ride. “I don’t want your money. I got money,” he said, “Now, take this from an old man. Get some new friends.” The guy nodded, thanking him over and over, and that was that.

Turns out later that night, Grandpa ended up calling the Sheriff’s Office and filing a report. After the police officer had done some research on the guy, he informed my Grandpa that a case had been opened and there was now a file on him, but there hadn’t been anything on him before. The officer said he had enough information to go arrest him right now, if that’s what Grandpa wanted.

Grandpa thought for a second and shook his head. “No,” he said, “I just don’t see any good coming from me sending him to jail.” Grandpa had checked for anything that might have been stolen, and nothing had even been touched. “He doesn’t need to be arrested for what he did. He didn’t come here to hurt me, and there was no harm done.”

Grandpa said that throughout the entire incident, he just didn’t get the feeling that he was in trouble. He simply knew the guy wasn’t there to harm him. My Grandpa seems to have a sixth sense - he knows a man’s soul before he knows the man.

So, if you’re ever going to unintentionally break into a house after a night of meaningless revelry, it better be my Grandpa’s. He’ll probably feed you breakfast and give you a free ride. He’s one cool dude.