Grandma never did say much. Not that she’d have anything interesting to say anyway. Weekends at her house were dull, dull as the unseasoned pork chops she made me eat and the split-pea-green wallpaper in the halls. There is so much I hate about her. Her stuffy perfume, her stupid cats. The fact that she won’t let me kill the spiders. The spiders. I swear that house has an infestation. They are everywhere. And what does she do about it? Nothing. And just when I get one trapped where I want it, she shrieks, “Tommy! Not my spiders!” I swear the old hag has lost her mind. She’s going to pay this time though. 

Mom’s Chevy parks right outside the dump of a house. I step outside. I can smell the mildew from the car doorway. After Mom leaves, the night is just as mind-numbing and soulless as I remembered they were. When Grandma calls bed-time (“Gladly, lady!”), I head up to the guest room. Before bed, I take one last peek inside my backpack. The bundle of dynamite and scratched-up lighter I stole from Dad’s cigar box are still there. I hope Benny is right about it not being too explosive. I don’t want to actually hurt her, just teach her a lesson or two. I smile and climb into bed. 

I wake up to the feeling of something soft touching my face. It feels like really thin cotton. Or is it silk? I open my eyes. All I can see is hundreds of thin white strings in front of my face. I go to swat them away, but something is restraining my hand. Actually, I can’t move either of my arms. Those same soft white strings have them tied down. Panic rises in my chest. I open my mouth to scream for help and I am suddenly tasting cotton. I gag on the strings and gasp for air. 

All at once, I hear a gunshot. I’ve never heard a gunshot in real life, only in the cowboy movies I watch with Dad. But that was definitely a gunshot. My ears ring. I look to the source of the sound, and I see Grandma standing across from me holding a pistol pointed to the ceiling. “Wake up, dear!” she snarls. Her voice is cold and sinister with a splash of mockery. I try to scream, but I only choke on the cotton more. All of a sudden, something juts out from Grandma’s shoulder. It’s black, skinny, and furry. Several more jut out from her body. She leans forward, lowers herself onto them, and looks up at me, 8 legs and all. She starts to smile.