The Racist Grandma

by phoolishdreamer

John was late. He was late because a bus decided to take its sweet time to arrive. Typical transit authority sluggard-fest. Normally, he would be quite upset, but today, he was taking it easy, humming along to his favorite Beatles tunes.

The bus arrived sometimes around minute three of “Hey Jude,” and John luckily found himself on an open seat in the back. An elderly woman plopped herself next to John, her phone tightly grasped in her white-knuckled fist. Nearby were two young Chinese students, chatting away in dialect — nothing too bothersome. Let’s enjoy the ride, he thought, as “All You Need Is Love” serenaded him.

Yet, he felt himself kept awake by the Chinese chatter. It’s not that he understood, but their voices were distinctly cutting through the pop sound of electric guitars and drums in his ears. John glanced over at the two Asian students, dressed as if they were from the 22nd century. I wonder what they’re talking about, he pondered.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one thinking it, because the elderly woman next to him removed herself and took a seat betwixt two others. John witnessed the entire thing, but most importantly, he saw the glare that this particularly racist grandma shot towards the two students. He could not believe it, which is why he stared at this senile octogenarian.

His staring eventually caught the attention of the old woman, who shot him an equally despising “What are you looking at?” look. She withdrew her gaze back to her phone, but John could not stop staring. The old woman would occasionally revert her eyes to John, but only to return to her screen. John simply shook his head in disbelief, of which this grandma eventually caught wind.

“You got a problem, sonny?” she sneered.

The bus halted to a stop, and John and the two Chinese students stood to exit. Before he stepped out, John called out to the racist grandma: “Merry Christmas, you filthy animal.”

The look on her was priceless. A combination of disgust, surprise, terror and anger swirled onto her wrinkly visage, but became a blur to John as the bus pulled away. When he turned to head towards work, the two Chinese students blocked his path.

“Thanks, man,” said one of the students. “You didn’t have to, but we appreciate what you did.”

A surprised smirk came across John. “You’re welcome.”

The students turned and left, but not before looked back to say, “Nice reference, by the way.”

It was a nice reference, thought John. And it was a nicer way to start the day.

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