Granny Were the Screen Goddess…

Having Granny around is proving to be a very trying experience. I’m having hell’s own job to get her to wear her regulation human suit. Frankly, I can’t blame her, it’s not the hottest thing since hot-buttered toast, but I can’t have her wandering around au naturel. Face it, what would people think if they saw a 4’ 6” chicken with sagging jowls and fading yellow feathers shambling down the road...

Granny says she’s a chicken and that’s it. I keep telling her that if she won’t wear her human disguise she’ll blow my cover – and I’ll have to report her to High Command, most particularly to Über-Agent The Grand High Cluck.

You know what the old bird said to me? “Oh Cluck, yeah, you know what that rhymes with.”

Great, Granny, really helpful. Let’s just hope the Über-Agent doesn’t get to hear it.

“I’m not going out in that thing,” said Granny liberally wiping red nail varnish all over her long talons and tossing the offending human suit aside.

“Fine,” I said, “We’ll get you something else.”

“Hmm, something sexy,” said Granny giving me a beady eye, “Like the thing you’ve got hanging in your cupboard.”

“You’ve been in my cupboard?” I shrieked.

“Of course,” said Granny without batting an eyelid. “I like the thing in there, the low slung, long one in yellow and orange.”

Damn! Granny had found the prototype for the hot chick(en) suit. I knew I should have burned the darn thing.

“No, Granny,” I said, “You can’t wear that. That’s, well, too young…”

“You saying I’m old?” said Granny eyeballing me.

I took a deep breath. “Yes, Granny, I am.”

I thought I was done for, but Granny seemed to be considering.

“Okay,” she said after a few moments, “Then I want one that makes me look like this.” She hauled out a vintage photo of an old Hollywood star. “Her. Get me one that looks like her.”

So now I'm running my tail feathers off trying to get the seamstress to make a suit that will make my WereGranny look like Ava Gardner.

I ask you, why me?