The Chair

It was all about the chair

I remember it just like yesterday, Grandpa sitting in the chair, smoking his huge Cuban cigar, like the ones rich criminals smoked in the movies. He'd fill the house with his sent of some rancid alcoholic drink and stale smoke making the baby cough and spurring Bet's asthma.

I should think we all wanted to do away with him and his filth. But it could hardly be said that any of us made a move to do so.