Cool Grandpa

By Charles Bukkake

This is the worst generation ever. Kids these days are the most ungrateful, disrespectful “swag” ridden little whippersnappers an old, wise veteran such as myself has the utmost displeasure of meeting. Time after time I try getting along with my grandchildren but all it seems they’re interested in these days are their stupid cellular devices. Vines? You know what kind of vines I had to deal with when I was your age? The vines in ‘Nam that, if you weren’t paying attention close enough, would pull you in and lock you away in the depths of the jungle for all eternity. Snapchat? Hell when I was a teenager we used to communicate using two tin cans and a string, or just plain old morse code. My point is, there is simply no mercy when it comes to kids these days and they’re all selfish. I tried politely asking them for social security money but they declined, scratching their heads, probably confused at what social security even is. So me and all my buddies decided to take it without their knowledge. Kind of reminded me when Johnny and I tried to flank this VC troop. Watching your best friend fade into a pink mist upon stepping on a landmine is a growing experience no “teen” will ever get to have these days. Thankfully there’s Minesweeper, which is close enough.

God I miss Johnny so much.

Anyway, deep down inside, I’m a nice guy. As I said before, I try getting along with my grandchildren but last time they visited, they kept going on and on about this “Sharkeesha” business. Well, after dedicating months upon months of research to this topic, I finally procured enough intel on the business and had myself a hearty chuckle, at least, as much a chuckle as having a single lung can allow. When they visited again this year I did a little hop, pivoted my mostly fractured hips towards them, extended my fingers (registered as weapons, of course) in the shape of two pistols, smiled, winked, and said “Hey Sharkeesha!” They were not amused. The younger one, Jared, looked down to the shoes on my feet and looked back up to his sister. The sinister smiles that grew upon their faces could only be rivaled of my drill sergeant when he found out I had irregular bowel movements at age eighteen. The little shit said, “Hey grandpa, I got one question for you.” He took a considerable dramatic pause before pointing to my vintage moccasins and yelled “WHAT ARE THOOOSE?!” before collapsing into a highly unnecessary cackle. How dare he insult my choice in fashion?  I’m hip! I’m groovy! I’m down with the times, man! Sure I may not fully understand why people are so fixated on dead asses or why the “b” in “babe” was dropped. But I do know what it means to “ride the baloney poney” and I do, in fact, know what a trouser snake is, and damn well at that! So really, who wins here? Fuck you two clowns, I can at least vote for people with policies that benefit only me while you’re stuck surfing The Facebook and jacking off with the Nintendo Power Glove ™. So, squad, I’ll be on my finna way. One hundred, one hundred, laughing while crying yellow face, laughing while crying yellow face, asshole symbol.

I feel so alone.