Grampa the wise.

I'm telling you, my grandfather was a wise man. He was filled to the brim with all kinds of anecdotes and chock full of advice. Recently I realised that it wouldn't be fair of me to keep all his advice to myself, so I decided to share a few of his little pearls of wisdom.

He used to say to me, he said, "Sonny", because that's what he called me, sonny, he'd say, "Sonny, never confuse barbecues with hookers. Never!" Then he'd cough up some slime, swallow it, and yell at my grandmother for a bit. When he'd finally notice my inquiring look, he'd continue. "Look, sonny, the only way to keep the two apart", he'd then say, moving his face so close to mine that I could smell the tapioca pudding on his breath, "is to set them on fire. If it runs away, it's a hooker, and if it stays, it's a barbecue." I'd be engrossed, savouring every syllable of wisdom he decided to share with me. Then he'd get up, because it'd be time for his daily visit to the bathroom, to stink up the place, but before he'd leave the room, he'd mutter, "Or a dead hooker."

He was a wise man, he was.

Cheers