OLD Grouch came for the get together the other day. I had not seen Old Grouch in years and was surprised when I walked into the club and found him sitting there. I was not too happy to see Old Grouch, nor was he glad to see me.
Old Grouch looked different. His hair was sparse and what was left was a silvery white. He had put on a lot of weight and was busy trying to put on some more by clamping his yellowed teeth into some nasty looking chicken.
He hardly looked up when I entered room and continued fixing both teeth and eyes on pleasant task in hand rather than the unpleasant foe who stood in front. It bothered me none as having him occupied with a gastronomic activity was better than having him opening his mouth to give vent to stupid humour or even sillier words of senseless wisdom.
It wasn’t too long before Old grouch finished with his chicken and though I desperately looked round for ear plugs, I realized too late that Grouch’s voice could have even be heard by the deaf. I had no alternative than to listen to him and helped him with every form of discouragement in the shape of long yawns and audible sighs. I weathered his boring assaults. Old Grouch was not deterred.
At some stage, the humour wore thin and Old Grouch, grouched about everything in general. The weather was grouched thin and the country and the politicians, the members of the group who had not come and even some of the members of the group who had come.
My yawns and sighs grew loud and bolder but he continued. As the evening wore on, my sighs turned to verbal insults and my yawns to clever digs. Old Grouch was least perturbed. And as the evening passed and our loosened tongues wagged I gave way to louder snides and nastier asides to give vent to pent up feelings of dislike I knew could easily have made me punch Old Grouch on the nose. “Why?”, I asked myself had I decided to spend an evening with such a dislikeable fellow? I cursed myself for not having returned home, on seeing him at the club.
Needing some fresh air, I wandered out. Old Grouch was also out sitting on a cane chair talking to his wife. I passed them by as I made my way to the cloakroom.
She was rubbing his back and he appeared weary “How was the meeting?”, she asked Old Grouch, “Terrible”, he replied, “Grouch was there he spoiled my evening!” I walked into the cloak and guiltily looked at the lit mirror. Grouch stared back at me..!
