In the world's most terrifying store

Hi, how’ve you been? Anything interesting happened in your life beyond the whole thing with the kool aid incident and the teddy bear rampage? No? What a pity. Anyways guys, COMMENT. I’m really too tired to try and put this nicely because I had a nasty, busy day today. COMMENT PLEASE. Commenting should (?) be working so just keep trying. You’ll get there. I forgot the link last time, but I have one today because this is a fairly obscure song.

Notes From my grandfather by Theodore Barden- Chapter four (excerpt)

Ah, the stories my grandfather used to tell. I’ve mentioned a few before in chapter 2 but I’ll go into more detail about them here. Some grandparents told stories about the past, things they had seen. Others read silly, happy stories about mud puddles large dogs and curious monkeys but not my grandfather. His favorite stories were about his horrifying time in a small town close to Lillooet (for those of you who don’t know, Lillooet is a small town in British Columbia which was hugely important during the gold rush but is now barely mentioned on maps. Towns like 70 or 100 mile house measure from Lillooet).

In this town (he never said the name) there was one store for basically everything, the Quartermaster’s Store. The store was only open for three days a week and every Tuesday he would go in to buy his weekly groceries. He absolutely loved to tell four years old me all about what he would see.

“Now Teddy,” He’d say, “C’mere. I’ve got a good’un for ya today.”

I’d sit down in front of the way I did every time he called me over to visit, juice box in one hand and oatmeal cookie in the other. As soon as I was seated, staring up in awe he would begin his fantastic tail.

“Now, when I used to go to the Quartermaster’s store I’d see the darndest things. Once, there were snakes.”

“Snakes?” I’d ask a little scared and he’d be quick to answer.

“Snakes! The size of garden rakes in the Quartermaster’s Store!”

He loved to tell me as well about beavers wielding meat cleavers, owls shredding paper towels and even apes eating all the grapes. I was terrified of course but I finally realized something very important at the mature age of twelve.

My grandfather was an old man even by today’s standards. At the time of publishing this book, he’s almost 98 years old and still kicking. He’s hunched over, walks with a cane and wears coke bottle glasses but he’s already planning his 100^th birthday party. Those very coke bottle glasses lead me to a very important realization. He’s always needed them but until he turned fifty he never wore them.

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In the quartermaster’s store