Continuing the great line of stories here about terrifying Scottish women, I am out shopping with my grandmother at the garden center to help her pick some nice plants for her garden.
My grandmother is a lovely woman to lovely people, but absolutely brutal to anyone who would cross her and those she loves. She once said to a classmate of her grandson who was bullying him for being gay that he was just jealous and that “his only chance of getting laid was to crawl up a chicken’s a*se and wait.” Do NOT p*ss her off.
We are looking at some plants that require less maintenance (as she is getting on in years, but like all Scottish women will outlive us all) and we overhear a customer ranting at a poor retail worker.
Customer: “No, you idiot! I told you I wanted succulents! Succulents! Stop wasting my time with these cactus!”
Clerk: “Sorry, sir, like I explained we don’t have any succulents in stock at the moment.”
Customer: “Then you’re useless as well as stupid, aren’t you?”
That’s it. Grandma has engaged.
Grandma: “Haud yer wheesht you f***in’ tube!” *Translation: “Shut up you f****** idiot!”*
Customer: “F*** off you old crone!”
Grandma: “I might not be an expert on cactuses, but I know a prick when I see one.”
The manager has arrived because of the commotion. The customer notices.
Customer: “Are you going to let her speak to me like that?!”
My manager takes one look at my grandmother and then back at the customer.
Manager: “Sir, I think I am going to let her speak however she wants.”
Customer: “Useless! The lot of you!”
The customer storms off and my manager turns to my grandmother.
Manager: “That was amazing madam! But for the record, the plural of cactus is cacti.”
Grandma just stares at the manager with the dead eyes of a great white shark.
Manager: “…cactuses can also work!”
Old Lady: “I’ll take three.”
Related:
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman
Tell Me You’re In Scotland Without Telling Me You’re In Scotland
Nothin’ Like A Good Old Existential Meltdown
