“You know, Jodie, these soap operas get to seem real after you watch ‘em for a few years. I wonder if I ought to get out of the house once in a while,” Grandma Ellie announced one day.
“And do what?” her granddaughter, Jodie, asked.
“Well, kick up my heels and have some fun!” Grandma Ellie went on.
“We can go out to Forest Lawn and visit with Uncle Elmer, and Uncle Lewis, and Aunt Perthu for awhile,” Jodie suggested sympathetically.
“Jodie, for gosh sakes. The last place I want to go to have fun is a cemetery! They’ll get me in there permanently before long and I can visit my dead relatives for the rest of eternity. I aim to go juking,” said Grandma Ellie.
“Oh Lord - what are we gonna do with her?” moaned Jodie later on that night.
“Now, honey, don’t worry. I’ll take her down to the Tropic Lounge and get her soused,” her husband Fred suggested.
“Well, I guess at her age, what’s it gonna hurt?” Jodie agreed, glad to get out of having to do it.
Well, the big night finally arrived. Sure enough, Grandma Ellie was dressed to the nines. In fact, Fred hardly recognized the woman who announced she was ready to go. “Granny, is that you?” he asked as he squinched up his eyes to get a clearer look.
“You better believe it, sonny-boy! Are you ready to party down?” Grandma Ellie grabbed ahold of his arm.
“Are you okay?” he asked as she staggered along.
“Ain’t worn high heels since nineteen fifty-eight. Kinda hard on your balance,” she explained.
They got there right in time for happy hour, and Fred said a little prayer as they entered the lounge. “It’s been a long time since I had a drink. Reckon I ought to stick to beer,” Grandma Ellie said as she adjusted herself on her bar stool.
“Bring the lady a cold beer,” said Fred when the bartender approached.
But when the bartender went into his spiel about what kinds of beer were available, Ellie cut him short. ”Don’t you have a plain old long neck Bud?” She questioned in exasperation.
“Take it easy there, Granny,” admonished Fred as Ellie chugged her first beer of the night.
“When’s the band gonna start?” she asked.
“Don’t go getting any wild ideas about dancing. You can hardly walk without your cane as it is,” cautioned Fred.
“Order me another cold one,” said Grandma Ellie as she watched the band members file in with their guitars. “Ain’t any point in going juking if you can’t dance.”
“Lord, help us!” The bartender exclaimed as Grandma Ellie tottered out onto the dance floor, swinging her cane as she went.
“Granny, would you get on back here.” Fred pleaded as he ran after her.
But, right then, the band struck up a swing tune and Ellie began to dance in her own slow, spastic way. And before you knew it, an elderly cowboy joined her in her gyrations. “Jodie’s gonna have a pure de fit when she hears about her grandma doing this,” Fred groaned when he finally gave up and went back to his barstool.
“At least she hasn’t busted her butt yet,” shrugged the bartender.
“No more beer for you,” chided Fred as Grandma Ellie collapsed on her own barstool.
“Hooee! That was some fun! I think I’m gonna have a heart attack.” Ellie gasped.
“What?” asked the bartender, hoping he hadn’t heard right.
“It sure is beating fast.” Ellie complained as she fanned herself.
“You just sit there.Of course your heart is all revved up. You haven’t had this much exercise in years.” Fred reassured her.
“Yeah - I guess you’re right. Besides, if I’m gonna die tonight,” grinned Grandma Ellie, “I want to dance a few more numbers first!”
