"A payoff?" Steve said. Steve's an old cowpuncher who has
collected hurt places for a long time now.
"Sure," said Doc, in his usual cheerful way. "You get gray hair,
or maybe kinda bald like ol' Steve here, and you develop wisdom,
which we all know just means you know not to argue with your wife,
right? So then what happens? Your grandchildren think you have all
"So you have to help them with homework?" Dud said.
"Naw, not a bit. What I mean is, you have your grandchildren all
primed for some real Olympic-style embarrassment."
Doc leaned over conspiratorially. "I live to embarrass my
Dud wanted specifics.
"With me," Doc said, "it's dancing. You see, they are all
teenagers now, and therefore they are cool and know everything. So
when their friends come over and they crank that stereo up to where
it's killing the neighbor's geraniums, I ask them just once to turn
[to top of second
"If they don't turn it down, I kinda totter to my feet and start
what the kids call the 'Grandpa Boogie.' I mean I shake it like an
Egyptian pharaoh. I wiggle and jiggle and stick out my chin like
this ... and sort of thrust myself around the floor until one of
them dashes over and shuts off the music. Then I go sit down and
read the paper again. The first couple of times I did that, the kids
got me to one side and begged me never to do that again. I guess
they were just jealous of my moves. I tell them when the music gets
loud, I can't help myself and dance fever hits me."
"So," Steve said, "show us."
So Doc stood up and went into spasms, twitches and slides that
had the whole coffee shop cracking up, and people didn't know
whether to applaud or call the paramedics.
"The really great thing," said Doc, sitting back down, out of
breath, with his coffee, "is how much quieter it is when they come
over these days."
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
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