But why did we orient it so it's facing her tiny kitchen window instead of the road? Why did we do that?
Now, every day, when my grandmother gets up, makes her cup of coffee, and cautiously pulls back the window blind to see what unspeakable things the hooligans or the mafia or the democrats have gotten up to during the night, she is met with the dispassionate, wall-eyed stare of the slowly melting horror across the driveway. The horror wearing my deceased great uncle's hat.
|"Getting the mail today? I don't think so."|
I would bash it with a baseball bat, but I don't dare. I just know it would only appear again outside my kitchen window. And I live on the second floor.