Chapter 9:

The Grandma Paradox

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Not all grandparents are strict, serious, or stubborn. Though some take stubbornness like a lifelong profession, especially when they reach a certain age and become overly sensitive to almost everything. Others, of course, spoil their grandkids by baking cookies for afternoon snacks or handing out handmade gifts that may or may not involve excessive amounts of rainbow glitter and other cute stuff.

But none of those descriptions apply to the ninety-year-old matriarch of the Vale family, known throughout the household as Madame Vicky.

This 90-year-old former head of the Vale family isn't strict. She doesn't enforce rules she wouldn't (or couldn't) follow herself, because she sometimes has a tendency to break her own rules. She's not particularly kind, gentle, warm, or sweet, and she never goes out of her way to coddle people. However, she has her own peculiar ways of showing care. And last but not least, she's not an easy person to deal with. Madame Vicky is famously stubborn throughout the household (which may be a family trait). She can be intense, and occasionally exhausting—but always in an entertaining way that the people around her can't help but love her antics.

Another unique thing about Madame Vicky is that being boring has never been part of her vocabulary. Instead, she treats life like one long bucket list of things she still hasn't tried, determined to cross off as many fun things as possible, provided her ortho, cardio, and pulmo doctors don't catch her first.

Take skydiving, for example.

Yes. Skydiving.

This ninety-year-old grandma loves jumping out of her private plane at eighteen thousand feet, which technically requires her to wear an oxygen mask because her weak lungs simply can't handle that kind of altitude anymore. She's fully strapped to a muscular, professional skydiver, whom she personally chose because, well...who doesn't like a hot man clinging to them midair, right? After all, she paid triple his annual salary just to accompany a stubborn nonagenarian widow like her who insists on skydiving as a pastime while waiting for her grandson and his lover to arrive. And as Madame Vicky launches herself into the open sky, welcoming the roaring wind as it slaps against her wrinkled, sagging face, she throws her arms wide. She screams at the top of her remaining lung capacity, shouting...

"Fuck you all! Bitches!!!"

Of course, her entire support staff was already waiting on the ground. Her doctors were there, along with the private caretaker Robert had personally hired for Madame Vicky, and, just in case, an ambulance was parked nearby in case anything went wrong.

But Grandma Vicky didn't ask for any of it. In fact, she didn't want any of it.

Why? Because her logic was simple: "If I have to die, let me die happily."

And really, who were these poor souls to argue with her, right? They were just obedient servants who knew better than to question the old woman's wishes. But what they truly feared was that when Robert found out they'd let Madame Vicky do whatever she wanted (especially the skydiving), they wouldn't just lose their jobs the next day...they might lose their entire careers. Although, to their slight relief, Madame Vicky promised she'd be the one to answer to Robert if he got angry and would attempt to fire them all off without second thought.

So they stood there, watching the sky, praying that their madame had landed safely...and that Robert would never ask too many questions about how her grandma had skydived without his knowledge.

Good lord, Madam Vicky really does land safely. She was pleased, even joking for a round two with his muscular skydiver and even thinking about all the stunts she still wanted to try midair. Unfortunately, the wind at that altitude had gotten too dangerous, so they decided to postpone the plan for another skydive.

"Aren't Robert and Emil here yet?" the old woman asked as she approached her assistants and doctors, who were already waiting for her. She walked and moved remarkably well for a ninety-year-old. Her back wasn't even hunched over, and above all, she was bursting with energy. Who would have thought that this lively old woman had recently been diagnosed with end-stage non-Hodgkin lymphoma? But Grandma Vicky had decided against aggressive treatment. She intended to enjoy the rest of her life on her own terms. After all, reaching ninety was already a bonus—there was no reason for the universe to keep dragging her along.

Well, there was one thing left that could keep her from truly enjoying her remaining life, and that was to matchmake her only grandson, Robert, with her favorite steward, Emil.

"I've been up in the sky for...how long was it?" she suddenly asked the maid standing beside her.

"Forty minutes and..." the maid glanced at her stopwatch. "Fifty seconds, to be exact, Madame."

"That's right," Madame Vicky said confidently. "I've been up there for forty whole damn minutes among the clouds...and they still aren't here?!"

At that moment, the person who answered her was her personal caretaker, Glinda, the person hired by Robert himself to look after Grandma Vicky. Glinda was carrying a folding chair for the old woman to sit on as she approached and answered her question.

"Mr. Weiss just called a while ago and said they'd be arriving late."

"Why?" Grandma Vicky asked. Around her, the attendants were busy checking her blood pressure, offering her something to drink, and changing her shoes into comfortable slippers.

"He didn't say exactly what happened," Glinda replied. "But it sounded like they were in the middle of the road when he called, and he seemed...terrified. Or uneasy. I'm not sure. Anyway, he hung up right after I heard Mr. Vale shout, 'A goddamn crab crawled inside my pants!'"

Grandma Vicky remained calm, entirely unbothered by what she had heard.

Then, she paused to think for a moment...

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"Do you really need to think about how to remove this crab from my groin?" Robert snapped as he tried to stop himself from grabbing the medium-sized red crab that had crawled into his pants and pinched his groin. "Why don't we just pull it out!"

"For the fifth time," Emil said, exasperated, "my lord—I mean, Robert—it's not safe to just yank something that's already clamped tightly to your skin. Why don't you try calming down first?"

"Calm down?" Robert's thick eyebrows twitched at Emil's suggestion, something the young man immediately noticed, prompting him to look away. "There's a fucking crustacean inside my pants and trying to rip my groin apart, and you're asking me to calm down?!"

"My apologies..." Emil immediately retracted his words and softened his tone. He forced himself to remain calm, knowing that matching Robert's temper would only make things worse. Then, after taking a deep breath, he continued, "Getting agitated will only make things worse. If the crab inside your pants feels threatened, it'll clamp down harder. Do you want that?"

Of course, the answer was no.

But Robert didn't say it out loud. Instead, he fell silent, pointedly ignoring Emil as his brows knitted together and his face twisted into a deep scowl. First of all, he has no one to blame. He and Emil both have no idea that the annual red crab migration would take place that week. The phenomenon typically occurred between October and December, during the last quarter of the moon. Unfortunately, Grandma Vale's mansion sat near the sea, high in the Chesthon Mountains, and the only route there is through the forested stretch of Brissby Road. In this area, red crabs regularly crossed on their way to the sea to mate and spawn.

However, what really exacerbated their situation was Robert's complete lack of patience. Emil had already warned him not to get out of the car while he tried to call Grandma Vale. Yet, Robert insisted...until the inevitable happened: a crab had somehow crawled inside his pants and was now firmly lodged in his groin.

So if we look closely, it was really Robert's fault—but, of course, he refused to admit it. He simply couldn't bring himself to take responsibility for landing them in this ridiculous mess.

"Okay, how about this..." Emil suddenly spoke up, having been thinking about how he could help Robert, and now he's finally arriving at a plan. "I can carefully remove your pants, so I can get the crab off safely without hurting you."

Robert froze while glaring at Emil. "Are you suggesting...you will remove my pants?"

Emil met his glare steadily. "Well...can you remove it by yourself?"

Of course, the answer again was no.

"Okay, fine!" Robert frustratedly groaned as if he were already surrendering to fate.

"I promise," Emil reassured him, "I'll remove it as gently as possible, so stay calm, okay?"

Robert swallowed hard as Emil carefully worked to unbuckle his belt, unzip his zipper, and slowly pull down his pants. He tried not to move, forcing himself to stay still while Emil did what had to be done.

That's when Robert noticed something unsettling: Emil's face was slowly turning red, and he seemed determined not to look at the huge bulge between Robert's muscular thighs.

Heat instantly rushed to Robert's face as he realized just how embarrassed Emil was. Yet, the younger man remained as calm as possible, despite the awkward situation.

"Can you..." Robert muttered, trying to sound firm while hiding his embarrassment as best he could, "...take off my pants a little bit faster?"

"I'm trying," Emil replied carefully, "but it can't be fast. If we rush it, it'll only aggravate the crab."

Robert could do nothing but remain silent. He simply looked away from Emil so that he wouldn't see the younger man's blushing face. After a few tense minutes, Emil finally managed to remove Robert's pants. He then reached for one of the two water bottles he had thoughtfully stashed in the car before they left. Returning to Robert, Emil carefully poured the water over the crab. Crabs often loosen their grip in water, so this was the safest solution he could devise.

Thankfully, it worked! The crab finally relaxed its hold, and Emil carefully slid it off Robert's groin. If Emil had been even a little more honest about how tense the situation had been for him, that would have been the most satisfying part of all.

Then, suddenly, a small helicopter arrived at their location, and its bright lights swept across them. Emil acted instantly, draping the pants over Robert's exposed bottom to preserve what little dignity remained to the older man.

A few minutes later, Grandma Vicky leaned out of the chopper, where she got to see the scene below.

"Emil!" she called out, addressing the younger man first rather than her own grandson. "Didn't my grandson's dinky get cut by the crab?"

Emil answered immediately, although he was a little bit hesitant and embarrassed by the old woman's question.

"No, Madame!"

Madame Vicky burst out laughing.

"Really? What a shame! Haha!"

Robert's jaw dropped in disappointment. His face immediately turned an even deeper shade of red than before. Emil, on the other hand, maintained his calm composure, though inside, he couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and pity for Robert.

"GOOD TO SEE YOU TOO, GRANDMAAAA!" Robert greeted his grandmother loudly. He didn't wait for her to speak; instead, he took the initiative to greet her. Emil, on the other hand, simply pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath, saying...

"Oh my God...here it comes...it's starting..."

Moments later, they were lifted into the chopper away from Brissby Road, leaving behind this story Robert would never...ever...EVER speak of again.