Author Information
Tiggle's Giggle
What Grandpa heard on the radio didn't mean shit to Miss Marjorie
Millicent Scarborough- Tiggle. As if the burden of a rather long
name, a bad perm for which she'd coughed up 50 dollars, and an old Chevy
teetering on the brink of jalopy wasn't enough, now she'd been told with
in no small terms that it was up to her to care for this babbling old
asshole.
Sure, her sister had been holding down the fort for the past ten
years, but Ms. Tiggle had had a little thing called a life to lead. Now
her sister was retired and got it in her head to take a vacation. A
god damn vacation! The nerve of that bitch!
Ms. Tiggle was on hold with Hospice. These people needed to
assist her in putting this old--- old /thing/ into a nursing home and
quick! Grandpa was prattling on and on about Amos and fucking Andy.
He spat every other word.
She looked to her wrist for the third time... 3 minutes now. This
was fuckin' ridiculous! Her Virginia Slim had formed a long, gray slug
of ash on it's tip. It reminded her of lighting black snakes as a kid. She'd
loved watching them burn and grow before stomping the ashes. She shook her head hard to snap out of her daydream and thumped her cigarette impatiently into the old man's glass.
Grandpa stared at water.
Ms. Tiggle watched him while she took a long drag. A tendril of drool wormed beside his chapped lips, slithering a trail of slime over his chin. Disgusting. The tip of his small, pink lizard tongue licked his dry lips.
"Want a sip of water, Grandpa? Will that shut you up, Grandpa?" She forced water into his mouth, and he grimaced. "Don't like the taste of ashes, Grandpa? Awww... well WEAR THE SHIT THEN!" She screamed, dumping the water on his head.
She giggled then, like a little girl. That was kind of fun. She was dizzy from laughing. He looked so confused.
Six minutes and still on fucking hold.
Grandpa was shivering now, but he was still talking on and on.
"... that was back when m-mountains were really mountains, y-you know..."
She was pissed. She dug the end of her cigarette into Grandpa's
exposed thigh. His pale thigh hissed and vibrated under her forefinger as it burned. What a peculiar smell! Not unpleasant, though. She felt his hot, thin skin slide under her nail as she breathed in his scent.
He stopped talking and groaned.
"Ah... so that's how we shut up an old man. Burn him a little." she talked in a high pitched baby voice, dripping saccharine with each word. "Want
to feel it again, Grandpa?"
She couldn't stop giggling now that she'd started. She hadn't felt this giddy
in... well she'd never felt this giddy. A rush of heat went straight to her loins.
She squirmed in her seat. Fuck! She felt like she was going to cum! It was a
good feeling- a powerful feeling.
"We used to gather there in the evenings, you know, the whole
family. I still remember..."
"If you don't want to feel something a lot hotter than a little cigarette burn on your ass, you senile, old cunt, I'd suggest you zip it!" She intoned in a pleasant voice. "I wonder if the convenience store across the road carries duct tape? I suppose we'll see..."
Ms. Tiggle drummed a beat with her candy apple red nails. Tappitty tap tap tap. She was daydreaming again, remembering how, as a child, she'd loved the smell right after blowing out a match. How she'd hated her mother for taking the precious book of matches from her! Her mother... the daughter of this sniveling, geriatric nightmare. She thought of striking matches one after the other. She could almost feel the heat on her fingertips. Then she thought letting them burn into the old man's arms.. his legs... his groin...
She squeezed her thighs together, and moaned audibly.
Ten minutes now... She thought of hanging up. Perhaps she'd been too hasty in deciding to give up the old man.
"Ms. Tiggle?"
Finally! The hospice bitch was on the phone. Time to get this shit
taken care of. She straightened up in her seat and cleared her throat.
She'd get this conversation over with and end it sounding like a hero.
She'd play the part of a martyred grand daughter, sacrificing what was left of her youth caring for her poor, old grand dad. Who knows? Maybe she'd get some money out of it. She smiled smugly then blew smoke into the phone.
"You finally decided to take me off hold? I have things to do here,
you know!"
Yes. She giggled. She had a lot of things planned for grandpa.
"You haven't been on hold, Ms. Tiggle. I spoke for a few minutes
before I realized you couldn't hear me." The lady on the phone paused.
"It's my duty to tell you, Ms. Tiggle, this call has been monitored and recorded for quality purposes."
