Tales of Terror

9. On His Deathbed

I was by my grandpa's side when he died last Christmas. He was a strong, proud, independent eighty-eight year old, right up until his heart attack. Aside from that final fortnight in hospital, he'd lived alone in his house since my grandma died.

We all knew the end was near, and my family were taking turns sitting up with him. I'd brought along my notebook, as I hoped to interview him for a school project about our heroes. He humoured me throughout the bland questions about his favorite food and suchlike, but I knew my grandpa had a devilish sense of humor, so I threw in a curveball at the end.

"What's the worst thing I've ever done?!" He repeated, a wry smile stretching his thin lips. "A proper question, at last. OK then. But you'd better get a goddam 'A' from your asshole teacher for this.

"I was stationed at an airforce base in Ohio, dull as dishwater. My career was going nowhere fast; I wasn't cut out for a desk job. The year was 1957 and we were pretty jittery about communists. Officially, anyways: personally I didn't give a shit.

"So one day my sergeant calls me into his office, where a government man in an smart-suit told me that he'd uncovered a leak, coming from somewhere right there within our fine facility. Seemed some spineless sonofabitch was sending secrets straight to Stalin. I was given 48 hours to plug the leak, or my career would head straight down the shitter.

"So I investigated; went to every barrack, every bunk-bed, every officers quarters, everyone was a suspect. I knew straight away when I'd found my guy."

"How did you know you'd found him, grandpa?" I was writing at the speed-of-light.

"It was obvious. He had his own swanky apartment, and no TV."

"No TV?" I asked, confused.

"NO. GODDAM. TELEVISION." Grandpa continued. "What slimy Red bastard wouldn't want to watch Bonanza, or Dragnet? Every American bought a TV with their very first paycheck. I went straight to the government-guy and gave him a name. The traitor was gone that same day."

"Jeez! What happen to him, grandpa?" I asked, a little shocked.

My grandpa motioned a gun firing against his head. "Maybe he was a commie, maybe he wasn't, but he sure weren't no friend of mine. I never looked back; long career, beautiful salary, spectacular pension. I met and married your grandma, raised six kids. Hell, there might not have even BEEN any leak. I did later suspect that the whole thing might've been a test of my character." His words were slowing, and every breath seemed an effort.

"I gotta admit," I said, shaking a little, " When I asked you that question, I thought you'd say you broke some guy's arm in a barfight, or kissed another lady after you started dating grandma!"

His eyes opened one final time. "No, I never once cheated on your grandma. I did murder her, though."

-- Hack_Shuck (via Reddit)