Immaturity, Brought to You by Print.

by J Welch


Absolutely immature writing prompted by my absolutely immature friends.

My Nan woke up and fell out of bed. She couldn't lift herself up, so when we found her she was crawling around on her arms trying to shut a grate in the wall. We had to pull her up onto the spotty sofa and call an ambulance hoping she hadn't inhaled any asbestos.

An hour later she was in the car, buckled up and high on aspirin and Tylenol, ready to take a bath and try hard not to drown.


We made the decision later that night to put her in a care home when she couldn't find her zimmer frame which was 5 inches in front of her, and later still to put her in a mental asylum when she started to pour syrup on her. We finally came to an agreement that she would stay with me after a few hours of argument, and that is why she is now singing with her head halfway into my toilet, swinging her arms around her sides.


My Nan won't stop sneezing! We took her back to the hospital and they gave her more powerful pain killers this time - co-codamol (with a high codeine dose) - so now she's high again. In the last three hours, she has put her finger in a pencil sharpener, tried to bake a cake out of modeling clay, and tried to feed my cat one of my goldfish (who's name is Billy).

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