Grandpa always had that mischievous sparkle in his eye—the kind that made you suspect he was up to something you weren’t quite ready to uncover.

Grandpa always had that mischievous sparkle in his eye—the kind that made you suspect he was up to something you weren’t quite ready to uncover. That night, as he lingered by the medicine cabinet, I had a hunch he wasn’t simply checking for a pill. There was a half-smile, a knowing glance, and an unmistakable air that something clever was brewing for the morning. Grandma and Grandpa were spending the night at their children’s house. While browsing the bathroom, Grandpa noticed a bottle of V pills tucked neatly in the cabinet

“Mind if I try one?” he asked casually.

His son raised an eyebrow. “Dad, I don’t think that’s a good idea. They’re strong… and expensive.”

“How much are they?” Grandpa inquired.

“Ten dollars a pill,” came the warning reply.

“That’s fine,” Grandpa said, unbothered. “I’ll try one. I’ll leave the money under the pillow before we head out in the morning.”