What others have said about Grantbo’s Misadventures:
“The brilliance of Grantbo's writing is that it is almost plausible, or even completely plausible.” Tom Sherry Author of: Deep Winter, Shatter, Remnant & Distance
“That was the funniest thing I ever read. Grantbo the Great!”
“Wonderful! Thoroughly enjoyed it!!”
“Grantbo, what can I say? You are a riot.”
“This is stunningly funny. Funningly stunny? Sunningly...oh, nevermind.”
“Grantbo, thank you for sharing your unique story telling self with us. I do love to read your stories!”
“A great read. A greater imagination! Loved it!”
“Grantbo, I'm laughing so hard I have tears running down my cheeks...”
“You always manage to take the mundane and turn it into something spectacular. Sure hope your real life is much more boring, LOL.”
“LOL! Grantbo, I never know quite what to expect from your stories, except that they will be crazy wild.”
“Too funny! I love to read your stories 'cause I get such a great laugh with them.”
“Grantbo, The madness of your writing is truly enjoyable.”
These are just a few of more than 100 reviews I’ve received. These stories were originally posted online to discussion forums I frequent.
* * * *
Grantbo’s Misadventures
(40 stories of when Grantbo’s life went horribly wrong)
By Grantbo
Copyright 2012 Grantbo
Smashwords Edition
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents:
Bought a Foreclosed House – Got Arrested
Dutch Oven: Bio-Wep, Greek-fire, & Projectile Weapon
Trouble Grooming my Yellow Lab (Dog)
Grantbo’s trip to watch a Semi-pro Basketball Game: CBA
My House Got Shot Up in Drive-by
Grantbo’s Yard Sale from Hell Disaster
Laser Light and the Next Door Neighbor’s Dog
Central WA State Fair Observations (no, Grantbo didn’t get arrested)
Mayor Grantbo-Benevolent Dictator
Thanksgiving at Grantbo’s House
Walk for Life Cancer awareness and Fund Raising Event
I got a nasty cold that I thought was a sinus infection, so I went down to my doctor’s office to get it looked at. Simple enough, but knowing what happens to Grantbo with run of the mill life activities, things didn’t quite turn out that way.
So I’m in the waiting room and decide to plant my butt in a chair right across from the fish tank. All doctor’s offices seem to have these things, for the calming effect I suppose.
I looked at the one big black perch looking fish in the tank to see what it was doing. The fish was facing me head on so as I bent forward to get a better look it charged me. Whack! It crashed into the glass which pissed it off even more. I decided to tap the glass; don’t we all? Couple more charges really disturbed me so I jumped out of my chair and out of its view. It then went about its business looking very satisfied.
The office staff said the fish was 15 years old as well as was the only survivor. Not only was this fish tough but was quite an angry fish. Eating all of your tank mates will do that to you, I guess.
A bit later the door to the main medical area opened and in sauntered the office cat. Yup, the place has a cat, and a dog too. The cat decided to go mess with the fish which really seemed to antagonize it.
About that time a 5 year old little boy decided to go check out the action up close. He got taught a life lesson when he got too close to the confrontation.
I’m not sure how it happened but the cat somehow swiped the kid, which put him off balance. Yup you guessed it, he grabbed the edge and bammo out came the tank from its recess in the wall. He screamed as it, the water, tank rocks and fish dumped all over him.
Can you spell pandemonium? I can’t so I just used spell check. The mother of the child along with others as well as the office staff all seemed to go in different directions and had different priorities. While some went for the kid, others pulled back; I was just happy watching the show when an office manager lady snapped at me to save the fish.
That sure didn’t sound like a very good idea to me.
She yelled again which broke me from my reverie. OK, ok. I had to dodge various people then bend way over to get into a position to make the grab. The damn fish decided to take his own lifesaving action at that point, it flipped while snapping. Oh crud, he/she/it bit my pinky finger! Wow, the thing must have teeth because it really, REALLY hurt.
I straightened up then tried to flick the fish off my finger which caused it to bite down even harder. I stopped to see exactly what was going on. The fish had bitten my finger right down to the bone! Blood was pouring out of the wound and down the fish. Oh, this sucks.
“Get if off!” I yelled.
“Over here!” the office lady yelled back.
I ran up to the reception counter and looked over. She was quickly filling a bowl of water for the fish. “Hey, forget the bowl help me get it off!”
She didn’t budge from her task; she really wanted to save the fish.
A moment later the bowl was in front of me so I put my hand/fish into it. This, as it turned out, was the absolutely wrong thing to do. The water gave the fish new life, since he/she/it could now breathe. It gathered its strength then with all its might he/she/it chomped down for all it was worth. “Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!”
In 2.456 seconds the tip of my finger was gone, right into the fish’s tummy.
Even though I was nearly stunned I did manage to yell/spit out, “The damn fish bit off my finger!”
The office manager could see my anger as I looked at the fish, who I believe winked at me just about then. The smug ‘I just dissed you’ look on the fish turned my stunned pain into a rage that was now washing over me.
The office lady said to me, in all seriousness, “Don’t hurt the fish, it wasn’t his fault.”
The flight or fight impulse took over. With blood still squirting all over everything I reached down and grabbed the cat’s tail. What happened next is kind of a fuzzy memory.
Apparently I started to swing the cat around as a flail at everyone but especially at the office manager. Blood, fur and one freaked out cat added to the chaos. The office lady slipped under one of my swings, grabbed the fish bowl then ran for it. I moved towards the door to head her off but didn’t get 8’ before a chair came crashing down on my head.
When I awoke I was in the local police holding cell. My pinky was wrapped but missing ¾” off the tip. A grim faced cop was looking at me and expressed wonder aloud how I could cause so much damage in such a short period of time. Along with the cop was my teary eyed wife holding the bail papers. Next to her was a smiling lawyer, ready to serve me with various lawsuits.
My wife took me home, she absolutely forbid me from retaliating for what happened. She even threatened to call the cops on me if I left the house. She knows how much trouble I can get into but come on, I lost part of my finger!
And…I…want…it…back.
So, I snuck out of the house when my dear wife was sleeping. I took the back alleys so I wouldn’t get spotted by the cops. I made it down to the doctor’s office, pried open a side window and wiggled into the place. No security alarms gave me free rein.
I first hit the medicine cabinet; drugs are good.
Hey, I just lost part of my finger.
Next I hit the field suture supplies, setting up for what was to come next. Lastly, I found he/she/it.
I knew he/she/it wasn’t going down quietly so I just dumped the bowl with the water and the fish on the office manager’s desk. And waited.
A few moments later I quickly opened up the fish. There was my finger tip, bingo!
In a few minutes I was done; I had no problem stitching it back on. I am very fortunate that the fingertip immediately grafted back onto me. I guess it was doing pretty good floating around in the fish’s tummy.
Before I left I decided not to let the fish go to waste. It was obvious to me I should use the x-ray machine to give the demon fish a proper send off. I ripped open the main control box to locate its core. While wrapped in those lead blankets I laid the fish’s carcass on the rad pellet to cook.
The cat came limping along about then wanting to know what I was doing. He and I then learned what they had been feeding the fish. We agreed that it tasted much like……
Chicken.
* * * *
Sunday 3:32 pm, I’m in a mosque, face down on a rug that’s seen one too many smelly bodies and praying for forgiveness. I’m trying to lower my profile as small as possible while trying to hold perfectly still so as not to draw attention to myself. I’m totally focused on the worn, moth eaten rug as sweat drips off my nose. If I get noticed I know I’m screwed. I’m also hoping that the police cars that keep passing by don’t think to stop and look for me here.
3 hours ago:
Every Sunday in the summer there is a Farmers Market, taking up 2 blocks of street space in our downtown business district. Normally there are a hundred booths of vegetable matter, food booths (like BBQ), as well as people selling homemade things. My dear wife and I are walking through the market taking in the sights, tasting this and that as well as looking for some red peppers for my homemade hot olive oil mix. You know those small thin red ones that give the kitchen such a great aroma when fried? My wife hates them; she keeps telling me I turn the kitchen into a bio-weapon whenever I use them. I guess you have to get used to it. As a manly man I love the stuff.
It’s sure interesting to see how various demographic groups attend an event like this. It’s kinda like suburbia meeting the 3rd world. From Mexican rap music bouncing from some beater car, to groups of non-English speakers fresh from their trip over the border, this place is really showing it’s…err…diversity.
For me it was just great to see all the families enjoying the day. I saw a juggler, a mime, and even a balloon bender showing off their stuff. Since it’s so warm the central fountain was full of kids. Most were having fun playing in the water. A few 3rd world kids thought this was their big chance to take a bath. I tried to tell their parents what the fountain was for but all they gave me was the ‘no speak a da English’ look.
Some of the fruit vendors were selling boxes of apples, cherries and other foods at fire sale prices. You know the deal is just a little too good when a 24# box of apples goes for $4/box. The cops thought so too, soon those vendors were hauled off to jail for selling hot produce.
At one of the ‘diverse’ food stalls I noticed the taco sellers sign; ‘Natural Foods’. A quick look in the stall and I knew he was being absolutely accurate; the fly covered goat’s head in the trash can was a dead giveaway.
It didn’t take very long for me to get into a heated argument with a vendor who wouldn’t take my dollars for his spices. Initially I thought he wanted to take the payment in trade, with my wife! I was about to draw my gun then bust a cap at that one. My dear wife translated for me, I guess the guy wanted pesos. Apparently he didn’t trust the value of the dollar; I couldn’t blame him.
An opportunity presented itself about then as an ICE agent just happened to be wandering by. I quickly caught up with the agent then explained that the vendor was not only trying to cheat me, but had a dubious immigration status.
A few moments later I got all the spices I wanted since the stall was no longer attended. I smiled.
It didn’t take long however for word to spread about my activities. This resulted in a large portion of the crowd clearing out. As they filed away some gave me the evil eye, some pointing at me while others began edging closer. I guess they realized that I was the rash that was chafing their backs.
I stopped, faced the crowd, now simmering but soon to become ugly with rage.
With my head held up high I said in my strong voice; ‘bite me!’
That combined with a steady stream of pepper spray I had pulled from a hidden pocket, turned the area into a flash mob.
My dear wife is so smart; as soon as she saw the spray can she fled at a full run in the opposite direction. I had to provide cover to slow the crowd for her escape so I flipped a vat of kettle corn. That didn’t work so well so I then dumped the elephant ear fryer. Whoosh!!
I also ran for it.
Just then shots rang out, people began to scream. In short order sirens began to wail with approaching cop cars, fire engines and—as I learned later—every ambulance in the valley.
I rounded the corner to a back alley which allowed me the perfect getaway. I was able to slip away from the growing mayhem.
That guy who does ‘mayhem’ on those Allstate commercials is a punk compared to me. Wink.
A few blocks later I was getting winded so found a nice new Mosque to slip into. Thinking quickly I rounded the corner looking for then finding the outfit room. I finally caught a break. I found some large size robes and head coverings for me to wear. I decided to dress up as a woman.
I slowly made my way over to the female’s end of the floor to throw off my pursuers. My instincts were good on this one.
Aftermath: So, I’ve been hiding here ever since. The door opened then, 6 assault policemen walked in. ‘Everyone freeze! This is the police and we want to talk to EVERYONE!!’
Just then a heavily bundled guy stood up. This guy was wearing a lot of clothing, so much so that I wondered what was underneath it all. I turned my head, sucked in a lungful of air, then in my loudest voice I yelled, “He’s got a bomb!!!”
The ghetto looking dude bolted towards the altar, the cops on his tail. I grinned.
I don’t know what he was wanted for, not that I care one way or another; nonetheless this gave me the opportunity to make a clean escape. I threw off the covering and ran out the front door.
I was able to get to my truck unmolested when the pop, pop, pop, of gunfire erupted off in the distance. Then a crump followed by a small shockwave. I guess the dude was a bomber after all.
Grin<<<<
I got home a short time later to find the wife stacking bundles of $100’s on the table. She had thumbed a ride from someone she knew. She then gave me the ‘I see you got home ok’ look.
“So, what’s the money for?” I asked.
“I was gonna bail you out, if you survived.” she responded. She opened the bread box, “I keep $50k in here all the times, and I even keep a ledger.”
I have the greatest wife ever. And yes, I got the hint.
* * * *
Bought a Foreclosed House – Got Arrested
Yes it’s been a tough week for me as I write my musings here in the county jail cell. Like all the ‘issues’ that seem to come my way, my current predicament was totally unexpected and I believe I’ll be able to avoid a long prison sentence.
Recently I decided to take advantage of other people’s misery by purchasing a foreclosed upon house. A few blocks from where I actually live there is a nice neighborhood of mini-McMansions where people from California would come and live. The locals look at them like a foreign enclave of 3rd world liberals coming up for a better life but not really wanting to assimilate with the rest of society.
Someone at the local bank, a ‘friend’ who owes me a big favor ran the required paperwork to foreclose on a house I’ve been eyeing. I think that 3 days late on a payment is plenty of excuse to foreclose, don’t you? He ran the paperwork then contacted the auctioneer to run the sale. I was happy that my friend got the auctioneer to ignore the normal public notifications. When I showed up to make my bid I was fortunate to find that no one else was there to compete with me. What luck!
I bid $100 and got the house valued at $495K, yea. I broke out a C note, signed the paperwork and was feeling pretty satisfied when something unforeseen happened. The garage door opened and out came a confused younger man wearing a tie-dyed shirt and flip-flops. “What’s going on?” he asked. “He just bought your house,” the auctioneer told him. That didn’t go over so well.
After a bit the auctioneer told the former owner what had happened and that I was the new owner of the house. He became visibility upset since he had no idea this was about to happen. He ‘claimed’ he’d never been late and in fact he only owed $25K on his mortgage. I spend a few moments using my well-honed empathy skills to sympathize with him but in the end I got right to the nub of the matter. “Buddy” I said, “This is my house now so get out.” I told him I’m a generous person so I gave him 3 days. I also made it clear that if he or his family damage anything then they’d be very sorry.
Three days later I showed up with some movers, carpet crew, a painting team and a local locksmith. The former owners hadn’t moved out yet so I gave them a little help. In the next 7 hours my guys had moved all of their stuff to the dump, re-carpeted, painted and changed all the locks. I also had a security system installed since…well I just had a feeling.
A couple of hours later I got word from the police that an entire family tried to break into ‘my’ house and were arrested; I told them I wanted to press charges. Heck, what part of ‘my’ house didn’t they understand; sheeze!
To ensure that there isn’t a repeat of this situation I went down to the section of town where the illegal fruit pickers live to see if I could find some help. I found a guy named Jose (no last name) who agreed to move in for $2500/mo. rent. At first I was kinda leery of him being able to pay but he assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem. He gathered up his family, relatives and friends and moved in immediately. They really made their own little community out of that house. I’m happy.
The next day I was reading the local paper and came across an article about a young family who got wrongfully foreclosed upon by a local bank. Apparently the bank decided that they wanted the house off their books so created the paperwork to foreclose on them. Poor people I thought. It went on about how they wrongfully got thrown in jail and lost their kids to the child protective services. Man oh man; I thought to myself, these people really got screwed. I continued reading until my name came up. Whoops.
My new tenants adjusted to their new surroundings very well. Since the house is located in the county they immediately moved in their chickens, goats and other assorted farm type animals; and smells.
The local mini-McMansion neighbors decided to complain to the new tenants. They didn’t get very far since none of my tenants spoke English; at least to them. So a few of them ended up on my door step wanting me to take action against my tenants and their little farm. I handed them a pair of used ear plugs and a ½ can of Febreze. “Here try this.”
In the meantime, the bank that foreclosed originally didn’t like all the negative publicity so wanted the house back. They called me and offered to buy the property back. “Super!” I said I’d sell it back to them for $1 million.
The guy on the phone laughed at me, the nerve! He tried to appeal to my sense of fairness; yea right, good luck with that.
“What happened to my friend?” I asked. The man on the phone advised that he’s no longer with the company.
The bank, evicted family and the entire mini-McMansion neighborhood sued me, all for different reasons. This deal wasn’t turning out so well for me so I decided to take action.
I decided to ask my new tenants for some help. In exchange for 3 months of free rent I told them I wanted them to go around the neighborhood on Halloween and deliver big bags of weed to everyone. I figured that the California liberals needed some taste of ‘home’, and this would do the trick to make them more amiable.
What I didn’t know is that one California lady had assimilated to our way of life and promptly called the cops. I guess I should be happy that at least one person wasn’t completely stuck on stoooopyd. I also didn’t know that my tenant Jose ratted me out.
This turned out to be the opening that the cops needed to release the deep hatred they have for me and to settle many old scores. They decided to do an early morning raid of my home to search for drugs. I don’t know exactly what Jose told them but he must’ve spun a whopper of a story.
Fortunately for me I was up at the crack of dawn. You see I have this bird feeder that has to be filled up before first light or the local birds go crazy. Not wanting to piss them off I was outside and filling the feeder when the first armored cop APC showed up. Luck was with me since I was deep behind a hedge and below the street level. I crouched down and undetectable I was safe.
The 80 or so cops represented every agency I previously had a conflict with in the past.
The cops apparently decided that assaulting the house was too dangerous so instead they just opened fire. Good thing my dear wife was staying at her sister’s house in Seattle or she would’ve gotten hurt or killed. The cops fired every single round in their inventories over the next 20 minutes. 67,830 rounds later my house collapsed onto itself.
During the mayhem I crawled out of my hiding spot and into the backseat of one of the cop cars. I figured that it was the only safe place for me, and that I’d end up there eventually. Also I found the dope they were planning on planting in my house. I saved myself by firing up the whole batch at once then sliding it over into the ditch by the road.
I’m pretty upset that my $100 investment hasn’t turned out as I expected. So here I sit, in jail again. This time it’s different since I have Jose locked up with me. He keeps trying to talk about what I told him to do, but I rebuff his inquiries. Hey I’m not stoooopyd, and I know he has a wire on.
He was kind enough to give me some of his nutraloaf. It tastes kinda like…
Chicken.
* * * *
Dutch Oven: Bio-Wep, Greek-Fire, & Projectile Weapon
I've been soaking dried red peppers and jalapenos in olive oil for the past 2 months. This stuff is Smoking HOT with flavor when used in cooking. So, I decided to make hash browns and eggs in the Dutch Oven using the oil while grilling bacon on the lid.
I got the fire going in my fire pit with super seasoned, superhot apple wood. I positioned the grate, put the oven with the lid on the fire and got it going. I like my hash browns crispy so the hotter the oil the better.
So what does my title have to do with all of this? Hummm?
Well, in comes my yellow Lab. As she was playing with the other dog she went running by the pit. Her rear end just clipped the grate. In one, very slow second, the entire contents of my breakfast flipped over.
KA BOOOMMMM!
Good thing I was 10' away when it went off. The flames reached up more than 15’, spreading the hot oil in vapor form all over the place: meaning it went right into my eyes and nose. NO NOOOOOOO!
I yelled to my dear wife for water. I need water for my eyes.
She grabbed the dog’s bucket that holds 4 gallons of water, and ... she must not have heard the 'eyes' part.