Die Großmutter

The butler stood o’er the grandmother, wrinkles contorting in the shadows.

“Tell us where it’s kept & the caterpillars won’t feel the need to… sew.”

But the grandmother shook her head.

The butler clicked a button, causing the caterpillars’ incubator to heat up for a second, prodding the caterpillars ‘wake. They bit onto the end o’ the whool string inside & began yanking, causing the wool round the grandmother to tighten, causing her to grunt.

Meanwhile, kilometers ‘way, Orval was racing down a highway, shades burning in the thick sunlight & teeth gritting as tightly as his pale fingers on the steering wheel.


Grandmom, Struggle, Wool