Mrs. Paulsor, a red-haired lady, walked in to the living room.

“Darling!” she shouted, with a strong New York accent. “Darling, now let me see you.” Mrs. Paulsor put her bony hands with inch-long fingernails on little Derrick’s forehead. “Oh, darling, you got the flu.”

“But, but Mrs. Paulsor, I…I feel, I feel fine!” replied Derrick, nervously. The last time he upset his grandmother, she tried to burn the house down.

“Darling, you stay, here, I’m gonna go get you some…medicine, Darlin’ okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Derrick said. Mrs. Paulsor walked in to the kitchen and got a bottle of something. Then she mixed it with a bottle of something else. Even Mrs. Paulsor didn’t know what she was putting, she was just hoping that, what ever it was, it would turn out poisonous. Finally, she put a single drop in to the mixture, and it exploded. Shocked by the explosion, Mrs. Paulsor knocked a glass dish to the ground, which shattered. Mrs. Paulsor bent down to clean up the mess, but instead, pricked her finger on a sharp blade of glass.

“Ouch!” Mrs. Paulsor immediatley put her finger in her mouth. “Ah, well, I’ll just leave it.” As Mrs. Paulsor turned around, her bare foot landed right on top of the pile of broken glass. Mrs. Paulsor cried in pain. Then she limped out of the kitchen with the bottle of “medicine” hidden behind her back.

Limping out of the kitchen, Mrs. Paulsor said, “Here you go, sweetie. Something to fix your…your, what was it I said you had?”

“Flu,” Derrick finished her sentence, as he looked for what she had brought out. .

“Oh, thank you, Darlin’, your flu…yeah, that’s what it’ll fix.” Derrick just looked at his grandmother. What was going on?

Mrs. Paulsor interrupted Derrick’s thoughts, “Now, sweetie, I want you to just close your eyes and swallow, okay?” Mrs. Paulsor tried to pry open Derrick’s lips, but he held them tightly shut. “Darlin’ I need to give this to you, it’ll fix your little, illness that you got goin’ on here. Okay? One, two, THREE!” Mrs. Paulsor poured the potion down his throat. Immediatley, Derrick looked better. “You feelin’ better, Darlin’?” asked Mrs. Paulsor, hoping he would drop dead.

“Yes, Mrs. Paulsor, very much! Thank you!” Derrick shouted. His “flu” really was gone.

Mrs. Paulsor replied sarcastically, “Well isn’t that just swell, Darlin’.” Mrs. Paulsor turned away, and quietly said to herself, “Stupid medicine” Then, she turned back around to Derrick. “Here, you lay down, there may be some side effects, I want you to have some…um, coffee with that, or was it cake? Anyhow, I made you something to, uh…slow down your he….I mean the side effects. Yes, have some coffee and cake. Hey, and while your at it, why don’t you have some coffee cake as well! Oh, I, I have to make some don’t I? I’d better get cooking, Darlin’. I want you to stay right there, okay?” Before Derrick had a chance to answer, Mrs. Paulsor said, “Great. Some coffee, cake, and some coffee cake coming right up, Sweetie.” Derrick watched his grandmother disappear into the kitchen, with a slight limp.

“Now, what will kill the boy?” wondered Mrs. Paulsor to herself as she looked in her cupboard of ingredients. “Ah, some of this,” Mrs. Paulsor poured some pepper into a pan. “Oh, and this…hey, maybe some of this too-” suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Mrs. Paulsor’s foot. (The one she had stepped on the broken glass with) “Ouch!”

Derrick layed on the couch, waiting for his grandma to return. What cake was she talking about, she had never made him a cake. Did she even know how to cook? Maybe he should go into the kitchen and help her.

“Dead, la la la la la, dead, la la la la, dead…..” Mrs. Paulsor was humming as Derrick walked in to the kitchen. He saw everything she had, he heard the words of her song. He was horrified.

“Grandma?” asked Derrick, barely above a whisper. Mrs. Paulsor jumped almost three feet in the air. Grandma. He had called her Grandma. He had never done that before. At that moment, Mrs. Paulsor, Marian, felt extreme guilt for what she had been trying to do. Derrick asked, “Grandma? Are you trying to kill me?”

“No, well….yes, but no, not anymore, I love you Derrick. I would never want to hurt you…..anymore. No, I don’t want to kill you.” Marian hugged her grandson. “I’m sorry, Derrick. Really, I am, truly, Darlin’”

“Wow, Grandma, you must really love me!” said Derrick, happily.

Marian looked down at her bloody foot, “I would walk on broken glass for you, Darlin’.”

Posted by Chocolate Fudge and Gummi Worms at 6:49 pm & Filed under | |