A joke for the aged

One time I spent a weekend at my grandparents' place.
And it was on Saturday afternoon that my brother, Grammie, Grandfar, and I were enjoying ourselves some quality time together in the den.
Then, all of a sudden, there was a bump that began to gradually increase in the form of a subtle thump beneath the foundation of our feet. As the thump came closer my brother, Graham, peeked between the blinds and saw a black Chrysler town car rolling slow and laying low over the road in a tight rejuvenated suit and some new chrome sporked shoes.
That's when Grandfar, who had his headphones on playing "The History of the British Empire" book on tape, turned his head, feeling the vibration from the street--not because he heard it--and then Grammie noticed this so she said, "My goodness! Is that a DINOSAUR out there?! That racket manages to grab even your grandfather's attention."

The first morning after moving out

I wake up in my buddy's basement.
He's given me a couple weeks to inhabit half of his bottom floor--me and my stuff from the old eastside house. My room is just at the bottom of the stairs to the right, it has no door and it has a window that doesn't close.
That's the first thing I notice after the light hit my eyes through the window blinds at 9:56 AM Wednesday.
I half-consciously remember that wretched crack allowing a cool wind to swoop into the room in the dead of night.
I got up and tried to push it close, from each possible angle and all, but that dadnam thing would not shut.
This is only a centimeter we're talking about here.
It's only your shoulders that were chilly.
How about you get your own windows at your own place, bud?
Okay.
Fuck it.
All right.
Here we are.
I need to shower.
Again, up bright and early for another day at work.
From here the shop's just down the road.
I'll just charge my phone while I'm in the shower.
But the charger is in my car.
So I go up the stairs and out to my car to get it.
That's when things went wrong.
The house I'm staying at has two front doors. Between the doors is the entryway; it's like a little architectural atmospheric chamber meant to save heat and stuff, you know--and the owner's usually lock the second main door to the living room.
So, stupidly enough, I remembered that fact of the second door after re-approaching the house with my charger--
I left it cracked but then I opened the first door to the front yard--which must have sucked the air out of the room and incidentally sucked the door closed, and I didn't unlock the thing.
Fuck me.
So now I'm checking every door in my drawers, a tee and bare feet.
I also check to see if any neighbors notice this idiocy.
The termination dust decided to hit the tips of mountains the evening before, too, and it's cold.
My car had frost on it.
 have just about now made it to panic mode.
I'm locked out.
I'm half naked.
I can't call anyone because all the necessary numbers are in my dead phone inside.
I'm cold as hell.
But then I remember my cold shoulders and the blasted, unsealable slit.
It's a sign, I think--of idiocy, man, idiocy!
Let's just say I got a good laugh out of myself.
So then I took a deep breathe as I took that window of opportunity.