Stimulation and murder. These words are interwoven by the reality of human experience; like a blanket sewn together by the frail hands of your ‘Gram-Gram’. For you, it seems that your Grandmother’s blanket’s message is its sewn inscription: “Home Is A Place Of Love.” In reality, your grandmother’s blanket is an attempt to connect with you emotionally and actually translates to, “I want to spend more time with you, but you want nothing to do with me because you are too busy slammin’ that hot Puerto Rican Burger King cashier hunk you met whilst poppin’ Molly behind a Taekwondo dojo.” She wants to connect with you in order to feel alive and distance her from the likes of her inanimate late-husband. Gram-Gram fills this desire with blankets that represent her emotions towards you. But what happens when blankets and cookies are rejected and fail to stimulate Gram-Gram? She turns into a heartless bastard who only feels alive when her needle and thread are mutilating the dead corpse of her mail-person.
The uber-sexual ecstasy of taking a life is a lighthouse in the dusk of Gram-Gram’s dark outlook on life. The impending thoughts of a diminishing calendar are rendered timeless as she passes beyond her mental breaking point. As she experiments with cannibalism on your boyfriend’s kidney, she is filled with hope. With every bite of her Puerto-Rican meal, Gram-Gram’s most suppressed desires seem to be within reach. She feels more alive than she ever has during her 88 year journey. To deny herself the satisfaction of murder would be the equivalent of suicide. So pretty much, while you think she is delusional and gives you blankets to protect you from something ridiculous like former President Ronald Reagan from licking strawberry jam from your belly button, she is doing it because she wants to form a human connection and feel alive.
Is Gram-Gram to be blamed? Left alone to rot in a nursing home like an old box of Pop-Tarts that was disgusting to begin with, she tries to level the playing field. You have molly. She has re-runs of Jeopardy and is tired of being the answer to ‘This person is depressed and will soon die’ (Which is shocking… not the murder part, but the fact that someone could get sick of Alex Trebek).
Summary of this depressing article: murderers are all around us. Who are you in this fucked-up dynamic? Are you a potential homicidal deviant who is no longer stimulated by rote activities like sewing blankets? Or are you someone who denies the desperate emotional offerings of others? …. Or are you Alex Trebek? Don’t take to long to answer, because your grandmother is right behind you. Seriously, she’s standing behind you with a BK Whopper in one hand and a shovel in the other. Don’t look, she’ll attack! Maybe try barking? If you weird her out enough then maybe you can snap her out of it. Ahhhhh fuuuuuck. Nope. Your brains are smashed all over the floor. Gosh, and to think you just had those floors re-done. That bamboo flooring was really nice- complimented the curtains in such a way that… Wait a sec. And what’s this? Ronald Reagan! Holy shit, and he’s got strawberry jam!!! Well… I tried to warn you…. you ignorant fuck.