Post by Radrook Admin on Nov 11, 2022 9:52:37 GMT -5
Solid as the Rock of Gibralter
By Radrook
The octogenarian grandmother had taken a taxi in order to be shown a house she might want to buy. Her grandson, Jimmy, was supposed to have accompanied her, but had come down with the flu. Her daughters lived in another city. Against all advice via telephone, she decided to take a look at the house herself.
“Just look at the masonry! They don't build em like this anymore! Solid as the Rock of Gibraltar!" The real-estate agent smiled broadly after slapping the side of the brick row-house with the palm of his huge hand and smiling broadly at the eye-glassed, cane-using, petit octogenarian woman who seemed like an easy sell.
"But it gets better inside. Let me show you." He led her inside gently by one skinny, frail wrinkled, elbow. Her steps were tentative and slow as if led by a wisdom instilled by many a painful fall. The dust made her cough slightly as they entered.
"It's a bit musty, but I assure you, that goes away once we air it out a bit!" He hurriedly opened one of the dust-covered living-room windows to prove his point. Struggle as he might it was refusing to budge. Finally, with one huge grunt and heave, he noisily rattled it open.
"You see! Isn't that better?" He dabbed at his nose with a hankerchief and cleared his throat.
"Not too much! Is that stairway over there secure?" She pointed a gnarled trembling finger toward the flimsy-looking steps leading up to the bedrooms.
"Solid as rock of Gibraltar mam!"
"And the roof doesn't leak does it?" Her grey eyes blinked trying to focus on the white plaster living-room ceiling which seemed stained black in several places as if by previous leakages.
"No mam, I guarantee it. In fact, at the price you're getting, this baby, it's really a steal."
"Well I don't want to steal--"
"No, no, Mam. Absolutely not! I mean it's a real bargain. No dishonesty here!"
"It isn't infected by mice or rats, is it?"
A rat had scurried across the living room's cracked par-Kay floor, into the kitchen and under the refrigerator and the rattling sound had caught her attention.
"No Mam! We definitely make absolutely sure that our buildings are safe and sanitary. That 's God's honest truth." he said knowing full-well that the house was rat-infested.
"Then what was that sound?" She squinted at his plump, double-chinned face with knitted eyebrows and glassy, green-eagled eyes suspiciously.
“What sound?” he asked while squinting, as if searching in all directions.
“That sound of something scurrying across the floor and the rattling under the refrigerator just now?”
"Oh that? Well Mam, since the house hasn't been lived in for the last year, some squirrels do occasionally gain access via the basement window."
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's presently slightly damaged. Nothing serious mam. Just some broken glass. But we can readily fix it at no extra charge. Just sign here and...."
"I'd like to see the bedrooms."
"Why certainly. I was just about to show them to you. Come this way!" He heaved a sigh of relief at not losing her because of the leaky roof and rats and hastily wiped the nervous perspiration from his pale brow with a white hankerchief.
"No, you check them and I'll take your word for it young man," she said eyeing the dilapidated stairway suspiciously.
"You seem honest enough. Remind me of my grandson Jimmy."
"Well, OK, but are you sure you don't want to see them yourself?"
"No young man. I'll wait right here! You go right ahead." She stared at the stairs intently as if looking at a bull about to charge while leaning on her aluminum cane as if ready to beat a hasty retreat away from it at any moment
"I'll make this quick." he assured her with an air of practiced confidence.
"Are you sure those steps are solid young man?" She blinked at the stairway through coca-cola-bottle-thick glasses.
"As I said, Mam, solid as the Rock of Gibraltar."
Then he smiled broadly and headed up the steps at a brisk pace. The steps creaked loudly with every step and swayed slightly from side to side, but with her bad vision, he thought in smug, self-satisfaction, he had nothing to worry about. In fact, with her bad vision, he was sure he could show her the whole disaster of the house and she wouldn't notice. Lawsuits? He'd be far out of reach once he'd cashed the checks.
Once upstairs, he entered a dank, musty bedroom, fiddled with the damaged venetians to let in some light, wrestled with the rusted upstairs-bathroom faucet, tried to flush the brown-green-stained fetid toilet bowl in vain while muttering obscenities under his breath and thanking God that the old crow had not insisted on coming upstairs to check the bathroom herself. After all, she'd have too be mummified not to notice this.
"Everything alright up there?" she cackled in a weak wavering voice.
"Everything's in good condition far as I can see Mam," he shouted from the top of the steps as he briskly dusted off his hands one against the other.
What happened next isn't quite clear. At one moment the agent stood confidently at the head of the steps beaming down at her with a broad toothy smile, then there was the sound as if a shot-gun had gone off, then a rumble, a rattle of metal and wood, a fearful demon-like screech from the rat under the kitchen refrigerator, and then billowing, grey dust filled the air.
Suddenly, as if by magic, the agent was sprawled at her feet bleeding from multiple gashes on his head and screaming in pain from what appeared to be a compound fracture of his arm. Behind him, where the stairways had been, was a pile of rubble.
"Are you OK young man?" she asked gently prodding him in the ribs with her cane.
"Solid as the rock of your altar!" he mumbled in a daze.
“Just look at the masonry! They don't build em like this anymore! Solid as the Rock of Gibraltar!" The real-estate agent smiled broadly after slapping the side of the brick row-house with the palm of his huge hand and smiling broadly at the eye-glassed, cane-using, petit octogenarian woman who seemed like an easy sell.
"But it gets better inside. Let me show you." He led her inside gently by one skinny, frail wrinkled, elbow. Her steps were tentative and slow as if led by a wisdom instilled by many a painful fall. The dust made her cough slightly as they entered.
"It's a bit musty, but I assure you, that goes away once we air it out a bit!" He hurriedly opened one of the dust-covered living-room windows to prove his point. Struggle as he might it was refusing to budge. Finally, with one huge grunt and heave, he noisily rattled it open.
"You see! Isn't that better?" He dabbed at his nose with a hankerchief and cleared his throat.
"Not too much! Is that stairway over there secure?" She pointed a gnarled trembling finger toward the flimsy-looking steps leading up to the bedrooms.
"Solid as rock of Gibraltar mam!"
"And the roof doesn't leak does it?" Her grey eyes blinked trying to focus on the white plaster living-room ceiling which seemed stained black in several places as if by previous leakages.
"No mam, I guarantee it. In fact, at the price you're getting, this baby, it's really a steal."
"Well I don't want to steal--"
"No, no, Mam. Absolutely not! I mean it's a real bargain. No dishonesty here!"
"It isn't infected by mice or rats, is it?"
A rat had scurried across the living room's cracked par-Kay floor, into the kitchen and under the refrigerator and the rattling sound had caught her attention.
"No Mam! We definitely make absolutely sure that our buildings are safe and sanitary. That 's God's honest truth." he said knowing full-well that the house was rat-infested.
"Then what was that sound?" She squinted at his plump, double-chinned face with knitted eyebrows and glassy, green-eagled eyes suspiciously.
“What sound?” he asked while squinting, as if searching in all directions.
“That sound of something scurrying across the floor and the rattling under the refrigerator just now?”
"Oh that? Well Mam, since the house hasn't been lived in for the last year, some squirrels do occasionally gain access via the basement window."
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's presently slightly damaged. Nothing serious mam. Just some broken glass. But we can readily fix it at no extra charge. Just sign here and...."
"I'd like to see the bedrooms."
"Why certainly. I was just about to show them to you. Come this way!" He heaved a sigh of relief at not losing her because of the leaky roof and rats and hastily wiped the nervous perspiration from his pale brow with a white hankerchief.
"No, you check them and I'll take your word for it young man," she said eyeing the dilapidated stairway suspiciously.
"You seem honest enough. Remind me of my grandson Jimmy."
"Well, OK, but are you sure you don't want to see them yourself?"
"No young man. I'll wait right here! You go right ahead." She stared at the stairs intently as if looking at a bull about to charge while leaning on her aluminum cane as if ready to beat a hasty retreat away from it at any moment
"I'll make this quick." he assured her with an air of practiced confidence.
"Are you sure those steps are solid young man?" She blinked at the stairway through coca-cola-bottle-thick glasses.
"As I said, Mam, solid as the Rock of Gibraltar."
Then he smiled broadly and headed up the steps at a brisk pace. The steps creaked loudly with every step and swayed slightly from side to side, but with her bad vision, he thought in smug, self-satisfaction, he had nothing to worry about. In fact, with her bad vision, he was sure he could show her the whole disaster of the house and she wouldn't notice. Lawsuits? He'd be far out of reach once he'd cashed the checks.
Once upstairs, he entered a dank, musty bedroom, fiddled with the damaged venetians to let in some light, wrestled with the rusted upstairs-bathroom faucet, tried to flush the brown-green-stained fetid toilet bowl in vain while muttering obscenities under his breath and thanking God that the old crow had not insisted on coming upstairs to check the bathroom herself. After all, she'd have too be mummified not to notice this.
"Everything alright up there?" she cackled in a weak wavering voice.
"Everything's in good condition far as I can see Mam," he shouted from the top of the steps as he briskly dusted off his hands one against the other.
What happened next isn't quite clear. At one moment the agent stood confidently at the head of the steps beaming down at her with a broad toothy smile, then there was the sound as if a shot-gun had gone off, then a rumble, a rattle of metal and wood, a fearful demon-like screech from the rat under the kitchen refrigerator, and then billowing, grey dust filled the air.
Suddenly, as if by magic, the agent was sprawled at her feet bleeding from multiple gashes on his head and screaming in pain from what appeared to be a compound fracture of his arm. Behind him, where the stairways had been, was a pile of rubble.
"Are you OK young man?" she asked gently prodding him in the ribs with her cane.
"Solid as the rock of your altar!" he mumbled in a daze.