I sat in a pink bathroom with pea green shag carpeting, perched atop a pink toilet, my feet resting snugly on the the matching green shag toilet seat cover. I had my copy of The Beatle’s Magical Mystery Tour album laying open on my lap as I sang the lyrics out loud.
My grandmother was staring intently in the mirror. I prayed silently to myself that she wasn’t going to take out her teeth again. That was just disgusting. She was applying a dark layer of blue eye shadow, a shade that matched perfectly with her powder blue polyester pantsuit.
“Can I help?” I asked earnestly. I tossed the record case onto the carpet and hopped down from the toilet, grabbing a tube of red lipstick. She sat down on the toilet seat and let me have a go with anything I could find.
When I was finished, she looked more like Elizabeth Taylor on meth. As she grimaced and turned to wipe it off, the doorbell rang. As she answered the door, I could hear children screaming.
It was that day, I knew I was an artist.
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Psychedellic Grandmother (True Story Challenge)
Posted 7 months ago
Psychedellic Grandmother (True Story Challenge)
Posted 7 months ago
Psychedellic Grandmother (True Story Challenge)
Posted 7 months ago
Psychedellic Grandmother (True Story Challenge)
Posted 7 months ago
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