The Grumpippopotamus

“Stay away from that one” I was warned “she’s a bit grumpy” But me being me saying those things just made me want to find out what they were talking about. You can’t tell that to an eight year old and then expect them to do what you say.

Grumpy as it turns out wasn’t the truth of it.

My mom, my older sister and I were here for the summer. We were staying with Gramma and Grandpa at their little cottage near the seashore. It was Grandpa who had warned me of the woman down near the end of the path that led to the beach. My brain was working overtime on the why’s and the possibilities of what she might be. Lead among my many theories was that she must be a witch.

Once I had heard her cackling voice warning off some unsuspecting girl trying to smell the flowers on her marigolds I knew I was right. She was most definitely a witch.

I started to keep a log. Daily I would go by or hide in the grass on the dunes looking at her comings and going’s. It seemed she was almost never without her broom. And the hat, it might not have been black but it sure had that witchy look to it. The evidence was irrefutable.

I took my evidence to my sister, who was twelve and knew everything. She laughed at my assumptions deflating my eight year old ego yet again. She then went on to explain to to me that she was just a “Grumpippopotamus”The word stuck in my head like superglue. My mind formed visions of the grumippopotamus, her mouth open wide swallowing me whole.

The summer rolled on as summer’s do, though to an eight year old it seemed to last forever. Eventually I worked into a routine of sprinting past her house. The day was coming though that my curiosity would get the better of me and my imagination.

One day I noticed a small dog digging in her flower garden, flowers were flying everywhere, her precious marigolds were ravaged. This poor dog was going to be dinner when the grumpippopotamus caught it. I had no choice I had to save the poor creature. Dropping my sand bucket and shovel I opened the gate between the path and her domain. Of course the following events all transpired simultaneously, as I was trying to grasp the dog which disappeared through the hedge the back screen door opened and out came the grumpippopotamus. Rage was in her eyes as she saw what remained of her flowers.

I was a deer in the headlights, frozen, guilty by circumstance. There I stood flowers everywhere she wasted little time covering the distance between herself and I. “What have you done you little scamp” she cackled. I closed my eyes knowing I was about to be eaten. I waited for jaws to close over my head leaving my body to quiver on the ground. Nothing happened, slowly I opened one eye looking up into her face. Strangely she looked quizzical, I was still having trouble finding my tongue, I may have swallowed it. Eventually I was able to choke out “dog there was a dog” the tears rolling down my face.

Her face had changed, she no longer looked like the grumpippopotamus that I knew. She had morphed into a gramma. Smiling she put a hand on my shoulder telling me “it’s alright son they’re just some flowers”. Wiping away my tears I answered “really?” “Yes” she answered “really”.

Now when I pass by her cottage I will occasionally stop and say hi. Sometimes getting a cookie for my troubles. No sign of the grumpippopotamus has ever returned.