My
sister, my
best friend and I were all sitting in my room. Something about someone trying to
kill us... we weren't sure who, and then we realized that it was the nice old
grandmotherly lady down the street who would always bake us
pies. We knew we needed to get out of the house, since she was sitting in my closet, waiting to ambush us.
The closet door opens... And I'm reading it all out of a book, a
manual telling me how to flee from
psycho old ladies. Especially
shape-shifting ones who are good at taking on the identity of the people in the room. Cheli and I run downstairs, followed by my sister, and we all decide that if we go out to get the turkey for
Thanksgiving dinner, we'll all be safe. My sister stops in the kitchen though, claims she needs
milk, since she's pregnant and all. She's taking forever, and
I certainly don't want to get killed because she can't down that freakin glass of milk. "Suzette Marie Palmer!" I scream, stamping my foot. "
You're in the barbecue now!" She turns to me, milk sliding down her chin, eyes evil, a huge smile on her face. "
Candy?" she asks. "
Or cookies?"
Umm... it seemed to make sense in my head at the time I was having it...