Phil Harris

“Please Grandpa,” pleaded Max, “tell me some more about the old days.”

John peered over his notepad to see the face of his curly-haired Grandson, “Okay little man,” his eyes quickly scanned the room before he continued, “jump on up here and sit next to me.”

“Timmy’s dads said you are a sad old relic from the dark ages,” said Max. “Why are you sad Grandpa?”

“They said that?” He could feel an angry flush creeping up his neck. “I am sad, Maxy, but that isn’t what they meant.”

“What did they mean, Grandpa? Why are you sad?”

“I’m sad because I remember a time when freedom meant so much more than it does today.” John continued, “A time before the change.”

“You mean, before the Leader and his people?” asked Max.


“But, the change was good Grandpa,” replied Max, “just like it says by the statues at school.”

“Those statues are an abomination,” answered John, “and I don’t mind telling you that the change was not good.”

“But Grandpa… the statues of Mother Pelosi, Father Frank, and Father Reid looking up at the Leader all look very happy,” insisted Max.

“That’s because they are happy Maxy,” Grandpa John replied. “Why were you talking about me with Timmy’s two dads? Don’t you remember when I told you it would be best to keep our little talks between us?”

“Sorry Grandpa,” Max replied, “I forgot.”

“It’s okay Max,” said Grandpa John, “don’t worry about it.”

“Did you ever shoot a gun Grandpa?”

“Yes,” answered John, “I used to hunt quite a bit when I was a young man. In fact, I had quite a collection of very nice guns back then.”

“You mean you actually had guns in your house?” Max asked, shock in his voice.

“Indeed I did,” answered John. “Back then, you could own more than one gun, and in fact, you could own rifles and pistols too.”

“Why don’t you hunt anymore Grandpa?” asked Max.

“Oh, it got to be too much of a hassle, having to make an appointment at the city gun locker,” answered John. “Anyway, the last time I tried to check out my gun, they said I didn’t qualify for weekday privileges any more. On account of my old job.”

“You mean your old job as a Preacher?” Asked Max.

“Yep,” John replied, “that’s the one.”

“What were churches like Grandpa?” Asked Max.

Phil Harris

Phil Harris is a software engineer, author of Cry for the Shadows and blogs at Citizen Phil.

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