The Vigilante Granny

[thestoryteller]

THE VIGILANTE GRANNY

I’ll go to jail I reckon for my latest little deed
and though I’m pushing eighty-one I guess I must concede
that doing what I did was wrong, according to the law,
but first I’ll give you all the drum, so you folk know 'what for'.

My dearest, darling granddaughter, sweet eighteen years of age,
was car-jacked by two sleazy jerks, who in a fit of rage
both raped her in broad daylight with a knife held to her throat,
then cast her off like some rag doll and then went off to gloat.

Ex-cons released from prison with a lust to satisfy,
they took it out on Debbie, who just happened to walk by.
The trauma that was etched upon my angel’s ashen face
was more than I, her grandmother, could cope with or embrace.

I sensed that justice in this case would just be swept aside,
so deep within this ticked me off, I couldn’t let it ride.
I wasn’t scared of those two thugs, as I’d a gun you see
and knowing how to use the thing was now old-hat to me.

I didn’t hand the pistol in when guns laws changed way back,
as crime was rife and ascertained I’d need it down the track.
I used the artist’s sketch supplied and searched without delay
the wine infested neighbourhood where low lives spend their day.

For seven days I prowled about until I had a win:
I spied the two sick rapists and my luck had sure come in.
I took a photo of them and Deb picked the two men out
as those who were the rapists and she left me without doubt.

I went back to their flophouse and I knocked upon the door
and muttered, “You two heathens won’t rape young girls anymore.”
There standing in the doorway with his ugly looking frame
stood Davis as he sneered and said, “Hell, who’s this wrinkly dame?

The stupid smirk there on his dial came suddenly undone
and was replaced with abject fear when his eyes saw the gun.
I squeezed upon the trigger and I cried, “Punk, go to hell!
Your raping days are over, ‘bid your family jewels farewell!”

With one down there was one to go and did that Thomas squirm.
“You gave my Deb no quarter, so take this you grubby worm.”
His manhood, too, the target as the pistol barked a round
and how they cried and whimpered those two rapists on the ground.

I drove straight to the Boys in Blue and handed in the gun,
then calmly told them all about how justice had been done.
“I’m Ada Estelle, gentlemen, and where we go from here
I haven’t got a flamin’ clue, but let me make this clear:

“Those good-for-nothing wastes-of-space won’t rape no-one no more
‘cause they’ve got nothing left that works and that’s a fact for sure.”
You’re wondering what happened? Well don’t worry I’m O.K.
I’m being cloned and in demand in the old U.S.A


From the book Keeping the Culture
This was based on a true story which took place in Melbourne.