We just got this little beauty in from Preston in Pennsylvania.
Upper Decker at Grandma’s House
It was five in the evening when I pulled into the driveway at my Grandma’s house. I liked the old woman, but spending more than a half hour with her would have anyone snoozing. I thought that if I caught her at dinner I could make a quick exit.Grandma’s house was an old Victorian in a wealthy part of town. I couldn’t hide my surprise when Grandma’s door opened, and a very young woman smiled at me.
“Hello,” she said. “I am the housekeeper here.” She had a Swedish accent and a tiny dress that had me thinking she liked to show off her hot bod.
“You want to see the lady?”
“Yes,” I said. I followed her into the house, and she lead me to the sitting room where my grandmother was having tea and cookies.
“Draw the curtain, Preston. The sun is in my eyes,” my grandmother said. She was a woman of few words and believed that the household help did not require common courtesy. The young housekeeper did as she was told and then left the room.
“She’s young,” I commented.
“Yes. She’s very odd. I’m going to fire her Thursday.”
“Odd?” I asked. I was already bored.
“Well for one thing, her resume listed something called upper decker as a skill. Have you ever heard of that?”
I coughed out a strangled laugh. “Upper decker?” There was no way I was going to explain that to my Grandma.
“Well she’s a terrible housekeeper,” Grandma went on. “I’ll get someone new after Thursday. She can’t seem to keep the toilets clean either.”
“Why Thursday?” I asked.
“She needs to be here when the plumber arrives. I’m having terrible trouble with my upstairs bathroom.”
I coughed again.
“Trouble?” I asked. My voice was squeaking as I tried to keep from laughing.
“It’s just awful,” she told me. “I’ll be needing a new toilet I’m afraid.”
After another few minutes of forced conversation, I excused myself to use the facilities. Instead of heading toward the downstairs guest bathroom, I made my way up the white carpeted staircase. I slipped into the bathroom next to my grandmother’s bedroom. The room was stark white and smelled like bleach. I carefully opened the lid to the bowl and saw nothing unusual. Then I opened the fresh water tank on top, and I almost gagged. The tank was filled with a brown gooey substance. It had a nauseating smell that immediately overtook the smell of bleach. It was an upper decker all right, and it was a nasty one. Little bits of solid poop floated in the dark, dirty water.
I covered my mouth and nose with one hand and flushed the toilet with the other. The disgusting water swirled into the bowl. I waited until the toilet stopped running and flushed again. Then I repeated the process three more times until the water in the tank was clear. When I stepped out of the bathroom, the housekeeper was standing in the hallway with a wicket grin on her face. “You were busy in there,” she said.
I couldn’t help but smile back. “So were you.”
“Your grandmother is an old witch,” she said. “I’m quitting Thursday after the plumber goes, but I’ll leave you my phone number.”
She took her duster and disappeared into one of the bedrooms.