Tell Us a Story (bp coyle)

The last Friday of every mother was my parents ‘special night’, as they liked to call it. They would go out for dinner alone, then a movie and drinks afterwards. Grandad, my Dad’s dad, would stay with us kids while they were gone. In retrospect, I am not sure he would have been first choice if there had been any alternative.

He would wait until my parents had left the house, peeking from an upstairs window until the car had pulled out of the drive. Then he would take out a hip flask and pour himself a large glass. ‘A little medicine to calm the old nerves,’ he would tell us with a smile, taking a seat by the kitchen table. We gathered around, waiting for the story to start. He never began until he was prompted.

Tell us the story Grandad,’ we would demand.

Now what story would that be?’ he ask with a sly grin.

We sighed in exasperation. ‘You know what story,’ we wailed. ‘The one about Grandma.’

Well okay,’ he nodded. ‘Your Grandma, God rest her soul. was an alien. We met when I was abducted back in the sixties…’

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