Grandpa Bill

by Emily Cote

At 78, Bill heaved a sigh of relief as he sunk down into his recliner. Finally the bitch had died. Took long enough he thought to himself. Edna and Bill had been married a painful 55 years; he had anticipated this day for years. It started off great; high school sweethearts, the two of them were inseparable. Soon after Edna went to nursing school and Bill took over the family pharmacy. They got married and a year after had Greg then Ken. Life couldn’t get better.

Then it started to happen. The saggy boobs, the wrinkles, grey hair, it kept getting worse. He knew he couldn’t leave now though, Edna would never be able to find love again. So he stuck it out, after the diapers and broken hip, she had finally called it quits.

“Hey Kenny,” Bill called his son on the telephone early that morning.

“Hi dad, how ya doing?”

“Good, listen I need a little help around the house.”

“Well, I’m kind of busy today, how’s tomorrow? And what do you need?”

“Tomorrow’s good. I want to get your mom’s stuff out of the house”

“That seems a little fast pops, mom only died three days ago.”

“Well I have some stuff I want to do,” Bill said, “stuff your mother would have never allowed.”

“Uh okay dad sure, I’ll be there around 12 with the truck.”

Bill loved strippers and prostitutes. Edna never knew but his bingo nights had become trips to the local strip club or a rendezvous with a hooker. It dawned on him about 3 years back when he realized what he must do before he died. His love of these classy specimens had only grown fonder; why not make a life of it? Bill wanted to pimp.

Ken came over the next day and moved his mother’s piano; crochet art, glass cat collection and other belongings. As soon he left Bill called a friend he had made a few years back, Papi Jugga, a well-known pimp to the area. He and Jugga made plans a few months back when Edna’s health had really started to slip, they’d team up and split profits. Bill’s house would be the brothel and strip club mixed. Home to the finest hoes.

Bill made his way to the door when he heard a loud knock. He slowly turned the knob and let Jugga in. He had been expecting him; the two needed to get the plans for the club together to get it running by the next month. Where the private booths would go, pole installations, everything had to be figured out.

“Jugga my friend!” Bill greeted the zebra print clad pimp.

“YO! What’s good with you Bill?”

“Oh well nothing much, just got all of Edna’s shit outta here. Good riddance!”

“Nice playa nice!”

Bill chuckled, “Yea real nice…so what’s the plan?”

“Listen here Bill, we need to get our poles and dance floor in by Monday. My old pal Tony’s coming to bring the neon lights and bar for the kitchen. You ready man?”

“Sure Jugg sounds good. Let’s go settle on the couch and draw some plans up.”

“Fasho!” the Papi Jugga followed him over to the plastic covered sofa Edna had died on and for the rest of the day they sketched out the creation. They’d call it Grandpa Mack-A-Lot’s.

Finally the day had come when the brothel would open. All of Bill’s old friends from the senior center came for the grand opening; they all soaked their gums for three days in preparation for the night. The house was packed with people as the techno music began the girl’s routine.

“The turnout is great!” Bill yelled over the music.

“This shit cracking though!” Jugga responded.

“We’ve already made have of our money back!”

“Damn bruh!”

“I know homie Jug!”

By the end of the night they had made the whole cost of the club back. Bill and Jugga were so pleased with the turnout, everyone raved about how great it was. The two had become unstoppable. Celebrities had been flocking in. The regulars of Heidi Fleiss had soon become Grandpa Mack-A-Lot fiends. They never realized how much they were missing before they came and by the end of the night they were hooked. People were comfortable in the stress free environment of Bill’s home. He worked day and night until eventually at 98, Bill passed on to be with Edna. His life long goal had finally been a success. Grandpa Mack-A-Lot’s had blossomed and Bill finally felt complete with the relaxation of constant hoes surrounding him.