THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF GRAMMA
HOLLY FOX VELLEKOOP
Copyright© 2014 by Holly Fox Vellekoop
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents and places are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance between actual events, locations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-1500223212
ISBN-10: 1500223212
Gramma thwarts Zombies, pit bulls and other bad dudes while helping her country, the Amish, and some other good guys, too.
An Unforgettably True, or Nearly True, or Maybe-True Story
Or Maybe Not!
Other Books
By Holly Fox Vellekoop
TEEN LOVERS: Murder Along the River
(Second in the “Murder Along the River” series)
Watching Corona
Justice and Revenge
How to Help When Parents Grieve
STONE HAVEN: Murder Along the River
(First in the “Murder Along the River” series)
Visit www.hollyfoxvellekoop.com
In Dedication
To grammas and grampas, nanas and pappys,
(and every other name for grandparents) everywhere.
And to all their pretty, handsome, brilliant grandchildren.
A big round of applause for all of you!
A Special Dedication to my Pomeranian Cissy who went to Doggy Heaven and joined our Yorkie Bunky there. We miss both of you!
Special Thanks To
My husband Dr. Ronald B. Vellekoop for his continued support.
My own beautiful, brilliant grandchildren.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction
Chapter 1: Gramma and Mugger Mikey
Chapter 2: Gramma Goes to Munchy Mutts
Chapter 3: In Israel with Bibi, Boogie, Yehuda and Dan
Chapter 4: Gramma at Home and the Gator Standoff
Chapter 5: Shots in the Hotel and Ecuador Goes to the Dogs
Chapter 6: Quito’s on Fire; Well, Maybe
Chapter 7: The Ecuadorian Dumpster
Chapter 8: Home Again―BMXing
Chapter 9: The D.C. Shuffle
Chapter 10: Spying At Good Friend Ruthie’s
Chapter 11: Sweetums has Puppies, Rock Climbing, and Some Other Stuff Happens, too
Chapter 12: To the River Walk and a Scuffle
Chapter 13: Home Again, a Jon Boat, and Some Zombies
Chapter 14: The Amish Mafia
Chapter 15: Memory Lane and Biker Gangs
Chapter 16: Rock Groups and Groupies
Chapter 17: Santa Catalina Treasure
Chapter 18: Time at Home and Magic In The Keys
Chapter 19: Sculpting, The Civil War, Gangnam Moves and Other Stuff
Chapter 20: Home Again, Loose Ends
The Amazing Adventures of Gramma
Introduction
Now, to the reader, I must confess this―everything in this story is true. Well, at least Gramma told me it was true. I think she did. Or did she? Hmmm.
She said these things really happened, and I believe her. Knowing Gramma as well as I do, I’m sure nothing she told me was exaggerated.
Here’s something for you grandchildren―never underestimate what your grandparents are really doing when you’re not around. They may seem to you to be retired, a little slower and set in their ways, but you don’t know what they’re really up to when you’re not looking. You think they’re sitting around in their easy chairs, watching their favorite reality show, having a snack or maybe taking a nap.
Hah!
They could have secret lives and be just like Gramma in this story. How would you know? You wouldn’t. Next time you see your grandparents, give them the hairy eyeball and ask what they’ve been up to lately. Don’t let them off the hook if they give you flimsy answers like, “Oh, nothing,” or “Keeping busy.” Give them the full-court press and make them confess to what they really do when you’re not around.
To all you grandparents out there―read about The Amazing Adventures of Gramma and give it some thought, but don’t think for one minute this book is about you. No way. And I don’t suggest you try any of the stunts this Gramma does. She’s had a lifetime of trial and error, advice, classes, training, professional help, expert opinions, proper gear, superior connections and decades of experience and direction. She told me to say that.
CHAPTER 1
Gramma and Mugger Mikey
“EEEEYYAAHHH,” bellowed Gramma. “HAYYYAH!”
Gramma’s small frame, turned sideways to the mugger, was protected by a tight, gnarled fist, posed high in confident defense. It was a sight to behold. Enough to frighten even the devil himself.
“One step closer and I’ll not be responsible for what happens,” Gramma hurled at her attacker. “I mean it. Don’t get me riled. You’ll only have yourself to blame.”
Despite her obvious elderly physique, Gramma jumped from side to side, alternately throwing air punches and karate kicks. For reassurance, she patted a weapon stashed in her genuine, imitation-leather zippered purse slung around her neck and hanging under a sturdy arm at her side. Confident it was secure, Gramma grew even bolder and picked up the pace. Round and round her attacker she went, coming to a stop at an alarming rate.
“What the...?” the mugger said.
Stunned at the gray-haired offensive vision before him, Mugger Mikey, the would-be purse-snatcher, blinked his eyes and took a couple steps back. He reassessed the situation. Narrowed eyes and a defensive position replaced his earlier, overconfident bravado.
Mikey was stumped.
“You heard me. Come one step closer and I’ll not be responsible for what happens to you,” bellowed from wrinkled pursed lips outlined in Tangee lipstick. More side-to-side dancing and fast, fancy footwork followed. Whirling and twirling, she went.
Her attacker stood very still.
“I know who you are, Mugger Mikey. We’ve been aware of you attacking and scaring seniors in our area for months, stealing purses from old ladies and pickpocketing elderly men. Ha. You don’t look so dangerous now, do you? Oh, no.”
Mugger Mikey’s jaw dropped and he repeated, “What the...?”
“Is that all you got? Huh? Is it?” Gramma mocked him. “What the...What the... Why, you sound like a third grade girl. My granddaughter could easily kick the stuffin’ out of you. Yes. I’m convinced the little darlin’ could.” Her fists jabbed the air a couple times, and she took a step forward.
Mikey jumped back, stumbling about, thrown off his stride.
Gramma twirled and kicked her booted foot in the air just inches from Mugger Mikey’s head, deliberately missing his dropped jaw. She lowered into a confident, prepared stance.
“Oh, my. I missed. I meant to, you know. The next one will hit its mark. Guaranteed.”
Mikey, in shock at his easy mark yakking away and defending herself, reached for an inside pocket, but before he could nab the 22 long rifle pistol, Gramma’s black leather boot kicked the gun from his hand and he fell to the ground.
“Hey. You weren’t supposed to do that. Grammas are supposed to be sweet and delicate and not able to defend themselves. You’re supposed to be easy prey.”
Gramma gave him her best ‘I don’t believe you said that’ look.
Just as quick as she booted Mikey’s gun, Gramma pressed 9-1-1 on her cell phone, pointed Mikey’s own 22 at his left hand and said, “Go ahead. Make my day,” in her gnarliest, darkest voice.
She smiled
and chuckled, “I’ve always wanted to say that. Did I sound like Clint Eastwood? Huh? Did I?”
She turned her attention to her attacker. “Don’tcha just love Clint Eastwood? I do. Especially when he played Rowdy Yates on Rawhide.”
“Rawhide? My Gosh. Rawhide?” Mikey noticed where his own gun was pointing. “Hey, don’t pull that trigger. I’m left-handed.”
“I know,” Gramma said. “And don’t you be bad-mouthing Rawhide. Or the Lone Ranger or Leave It to Beaver, or any other family-oriented television show. You have no taste. That’s your problem. I’ll bet you don’t like Ozzie and Harriet either." She sighed. "Those are all classics. What’s this world coming to? You probably like all those comedies and reality shows that are on TV these days. They say bad words on them, you know.”
“&%$##@@.”
“I thought so,” Gramma said.
Gramma observed Mikey closely. She squeezed his cheeks together and turned his face to the left and the right. She peered deep into his eyes and jerked her head back in recognition.
“Hey. Wait a minute. Are you Esther’s grandson? Esther Long?” She grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled his face closer. “You are, aren’t you? You’re Esther and Alvin Long’s grandson.” She pushed his face away. “Glory be!”
“No, I’m not. Honest. I don’t know those people,” Mikey said, fear registering in his eyes.
“Stop blubbering. It’s unbecoming for the Long’s grandson to be blubbering and bawling about.”
“Honestly. They’re not my Nana and Pappy.” Then it registered. “Oh, no. You’re,” gasp, “Gramma, aren’t you?” His concern turned to fear.
“Why, yes I am Gramma, now that you mention it,” she said, patting her hair. She batted her eyelashes. “And, oh yes you are Esther and Alvin’s grandson. They are your Nana and Pappy.” Gramma said. “Don’t you lie to me. And I remember you, too. When you were just a little guy, Esther used to bring you with her to Tuesday Bingo Night at the Riverside Fire hall. Good grief, Mikey. With you being a common mugger, it’s getting to be that almost anything can happen. What the blazes are you doing mugging people? Imagine that. Esther and Alvin’s little grandson mugging people. Old people at that. And lying about it, too. Now I’m really mad.” She leaned closer into his face.
“Ooomph. That hurts.” He pouted.
“Good,” Gramma replied. “You think my leaning on you hurts? Wait ‘til Esther and Alvin find out their precious Michael is Mugger Mikey. You’re really gonna be sorry then. Esther will probably cry and tell you how much you’ve disappointed her and Alvin. She talks so nice about you all the time. You’ve got a lot to make up for, Mikey. You better start sayin’ your prayers, ’cuz when Esther finds out what you’ve been doin’, you’re gonna need the Lord’s help.”
“Don’t tell my Nana,” Mikey said, whining like a seven-year-old. “Please. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything.”
“Too late. The damage is done. She’s gonna find out when the police get here. You better start figuring out how you’re gonna’ make amends for what you’ve been doing. Oh, yeah. You’re gonna have to apologize. Give back the money and loot you stole. And maybe do some chores for your victims, too. Yeah, chores for the victims will help a lot. Carry their groceries, weed their gardens, clean their walkers, go to the pharmacies for their medications. Esther and Alvin’s grandson. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I feel so sorry for them.”
“What about me?” He sniffled. “Don’t you feel sorry for me?” He sported his most pitiful look.
“You? Feel sorry for you? What are you talking about? You brought this on yourself.”
“I had a hard life,” Mikey complained. “My dad left us and my mom...”
“Don’t you say nothin’ about your mom,” Gramma said, all fired up. “I know Sally. She’s a lovely woman. Did her best. Worked hard and raised you by herself with some help from your Nana and Pappy. Oh, you got a lot to make up. Well, you better get thinking how you’re gonna set all this right ’cuz here come the police.”
Mikey stared blankly at the headlights coming their way and began reviewing his limited options.
"Oh, yes, and did I mention, I'll be taking an interest in you from now on. I know just the right people who'll help you change your ways. Good folks just like your Nana and Pappy."
CHAPTER 2
Gramma Goes to Munchy Mutts
“Don’t text and drive,” Gramma said to her grandson Andy. “It’s unsafe, and I’ll be unhappy with you if you do.” She reached for his phone. “Who do you want me to text for you and what do you want to say to them?” Her nimble fingers were all over the keyboard in response to his instructions. She finished what he wanted, then sent a few messages off for herself.
“Tell Dad we’ll meet him at Munchy Mutts in ten minutes,” Andy said.
“Gotcha.” She tapped across the letters and numbers. “Done. Take the next left turn,” Gramma said, pointing in the expected direction.
“Why? I never go to Munchy Mutts that way,” Andy replied.
“Because your Grampa always went that way, God rest his soul.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot.”
“Got a girlfriend these days?” Gramma asked.
Andy blushed and stammered, but he didn’t answer.
“What? I couldn’t hear you,” Gramma said.
“That’s ’cuz I didn’t say anything,” Andy said. “I’m trying to keep my mind on my driving. You know, be a safe driver like you always tell me. See. I got my seat belt on and everything.”
“That’s because I won’t let you start the car until everyone has their seatbelt on. Very good rule. I amaze myself.”
“I always listen,” Andy said.
“Getting back to the girlfriend thing. Your sister told me she thought you had a girlfriend, so I was just wondering.”
“No. I don’t have a girlfriend.” Lola’s in big trouble.
“Just asking,” Gramma said, smiling. She patted his arm with love.
“You’re a good driver, Andy. That’s why I let you drive my Mini Bus. I don’t let just anyone drive my VW, you know.”
“You’d let any of your grandchildren drive your Mini Bus, Gramma,” Andy said.
“Well, yeah, but no one else. The rules are, my grandchildren can drive only if they’re all wearing seat belts, stay under the speed limit and don’t text and talk on the phone while driving. My grandchildren aren’t just anybody, though. They’re my grandchildren. They’re special. Smart. Capable. Handsome. Pretty. High achievers. Did I miss anything or go too far? I didn’t overplay it, did I?”
Andy smiled.
“Hey, there’s your dad now. Don’t tell him I told you that story about when he was four-years-old and lost his shoes in the plowed field on the farm where we were living. He might get embarrassed. We never did find them,” she said as an afterthought.
“Don’t worry. He knows you tell us that stuff. He laughs about it.”
Andy pulled the pristine, 1965, VW Mini Bus into the parking lot and rolled down the window. “We should get these windows electrified,” he said to Gramma.
Gramma cringed. “Make changes to my all-original Mini Bus?” she said in disbelief. “I don’t think so.”
A tall good-looking, middle-aged man leaned into the passenger window.
“Hi Mom,” Steven said.
“How’s my favorite son?” Gramma asked.
“I’m your only son, Mom.”
“I know, but you don’t have to be my favorite and yet you are.” Gramma smiled at their familiar joke.
“And how’s your favorite, oldest grandchild doing?” Steven said, pointing at Andy.
“Great as always. Drives well. Polite, and charming, too,” Gramma said.” I wonder where he gets all that.”
Andy beamed.
“Time for lunch,” Steven said. “I’m buying today.”
“Well, whattya’ know. Your dad’s buying,” Gramma said to Andy. “Hooray, ’cuz I’m starving.”
“I hope you’ve
got deep pockets, Dad, because I’m starving, too,” Andy replied.
At Munchy Mutts
After biting the end off a French fry, Gramma casually announced, “Did I tell you? I’m going to Israel in a couple of months.” She wiped catsup off her blouse and took a drink of iced tea.
“You’re going to Israel,” Steven and Andy said, almost at the same time.
Their eyes widened and they looked at each other, then at Gramma.
“No. You didn’t tell me. When did you decide this?” Steven asked. “And who’re you going with and what’re you gonna do there?”
“I made up my mind this morning when Andy and I were on the way to meet you. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, ever since I was invited to join some friends there.”
“Going to meet up with Yehuda?” Andy teased. “Yehuda, Yehuda, Yehuda.”
Gramma laughed and ate some more fries. She washed them down with iced tea. “Don’t tease about Yehuda. We’ve been friends a long time and that’s all there is to it. We were friends long before he became important.” She cocked her head and mused aloud, “Pretty cool having an old friend in the Prime Minister’s cabinet, though. Say, let’s have dessert. I wonder if they still have the homemade rice pudding here.”
“Just like that. You’re going to Israel. Your friend’s the Israeli Attorney General and ‘let’s have rice pudding for dessert.’ Smooth segue from the topic,” Steven said. “You’re really good at that.”
“Thank you. I work on it,” Gramma said. She continued browsing the dessert menu.
“Dessert is the most important meal of the day. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” Gramma said.
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