Last we heard from grandpa, he was hanging up the phone in panic. You see, Pops has gotten himself into quite a messy situation—even for his standards. After breaking out of an NY jail, Pops changed identities and hopped on a flight to LA to lay low for a while. Didn’t work for long. The cops closed in and were knocking on the door to my mothers apartment.
I feared the worst for about a week, until my phone rang tonight as I was in a poker game with the boys from the neighborhood.
Me: “Hello?”
Grandpa: “Hey, kid. Are you around anyone right now? Keep it down.”
Me: “Pops! Great to hear from you! I didn’t think I’d be t—“
Grandpa: “Quiet! Don’t mention my name. Your phone might be bugged.”
Me: “Pops, you know I get a new cell phone and number once a month. Learned that from you. By the way, I got that thousand from Sammy we won last weekend. Let’s do even better this time. Who do you like?”
Grandpa: “Your Bleacher Report - Sports & Society
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