On Grandpa- Fuck Me- - Come

Frank lowered the remote. "You mean that?"

And last week, when the TV froze on a spinning wheel of doom, Maya threw her hands up. "It's broken!"

"Come on, grandpa," she said, not looking up. "It’s not a nuclear launch code. Just click the little TV icon." Come on grandpa- fuck me-

"That's good," he admitted. "That's real good."

"Okay," Maya said, wiping her eyes. "Okay, my turn. But you have to actually try ." Frank lowered the remote

The remote control felt heavier than it used to. Frank turned it over in his gnarled hands, squinting at the buttons. Play. Pause. A snowflake symbol he’d never seen before. His granddaughter, Maya, lounged on the other end of the sofa, her thumbs dancing a furious rhythm on her phone screen.

He pulled out a yellowed sheet of paper. "Listen to this. She wrote it for my fortieth birthday. It’s a poem called 'Ode to My Husband's Snoring.'" "It’s not a nuclear launch code

"Double dare."