|Written by Siobhan Gallagher / Artwork by Holly Eddy
The back kitchen door swung open. Grandma was at the stove, cooking. “Jasmine, is that you?”
“Nah,” said a rough voice.
Grandma looked over her shoulder to see a grey-brown wolf licking its chops. She cracked a smile. “Ah, Mister Wolf, you
must’ve smelled my chili.”
“I sure did,” he said, climbing onto one of the kitchen chairs.
“Won me the blue ribbon at the county fair last year.” Her smiled faltered as she noticed Mr. Wolf’s ears were droopy and
he wasn’t wagging his tail. “What seems to be the matter?”
Mr. Wolf slumped across the kitchen table. “I met this little punk on the way here and she said I had a huge nose.”
“Was she carrying a basket?”
Mr. Wolf nodded.
She clicked her tongue and her head shook. “That’d be my granddaughter, Jasmine. Her mother spoiled her rotten.” She
covered the chili and wiped her dark hands on her apron. “They don’t invite me over; just send Jasmine along to deliver
those awful soy-protein shakes. Say I should get off the red meats.”
Mr. Wolf’s head jerked up. “Really?”
“Oh yes.” She sat down across from him. “Don’t know what’s gotten into their heads, but they’re riding the high horse now.
Telling me what to do.”
“Shameful.” He shook his head. “I remember the days when people use to fear me. Now they walk up to me and pat me on
the head like I’m a damn dog.”
Now there’s a thought. She smiled. “Maybe that’s what this generation needs: a good scarin’. Show them that they don’t
know everything.” She glanced at the pot of chili then back at the wolf, her smile growing into a grin.
~ * ~
Jasmine entered Grandma’s cottage and tossed the basket onto the table. “Grandma! I’m here, okay, bye.” And turned
around to leave.
From the bedroom, Grandma’s voice croaked, “Oh, deary, your grandmother’s sick and needs some company. Won’t you
stay for a bit?”
“Fine,” she sighed. “But I’m expecting a text from this really cute boy.”
Jasmine trudged into the room, only to find a lump in grandma’s bed. The lump shifted under the sheets and sat up. A wolf
wearing grandma’s nightcap, its snout stained red.
“Uh…” She stepped back. “You’re not grandma.”
Its eyes focused on her, its lips pulled back in a mock grin.
She took another step back, pulled out her cell phone; her step-dad usually hunted these things. Before she could press
speed-dial, the wolf lunged. Jaws snapped at her phone. The phone clattered to the floor as she ran screaming.
“Haha! Now that’s more like it.” Mr. Wolf licked his lips. “And excellent chili, Grandma.”
Grandma crawled out from under the bed. “Why thank you.” She stood up, dusted herself off. “I have to say, you haven’t
lost your gruff.”
“And just think,” he said, nudging the cell phone, “she’s going to gab about it to everyone. They’ll know better than to take
us for granted.”
“After they figure I haven’t been eaten.” She laughed, picking up the flat-screen phone. “Guess we should be laying low for
a little while, wouldn’t want the riff raff after you. That girl’s step-father thinks he can hunt.” She pulled up an airline site.
“Anywhere you’d like to go?”
Mr. Wolf’s ears perked up. “I hear the Bahamas are lovely and I could work on my tan.”
Grandma gave him a look, and Mr. Wolf added: “Oh!—and to scare off all those beach goers, of course.”
Siobhan Gallagher is a graduate from ASU and wannabe zombie
slayer, currently residing in Arizona. Her fiction has appeared or is
forthcoming in Lovecraft eZine, COSMOS Online, Unidentified
Funny Objects anthology, and Abyss & Apex.
Occasionally, she does this weird thing called ‘blogging’ at: