YOUR GRANDPA WAS COOLER THAN YOU
“Mikey! Let’s go. We’re late!”
Mrs. James stood at the bottom of the stairs, peering up. She waited, not so patiently. This kid had no respect for anything but his stupid games.
The front door opened behind her. It was Mikey’s best friend, Cal.
“Hi Mrs. James.”
“Would you go upstairs and drag him down here? We’re going to be late.”
Before Cal could answer or take a step Mikey appeared, disheveled, like he hadn’t showered in days. He looked like he hadn’t slept in just as long.