"Granny please, not so fast. You might crash!", pleaded George.
"Don't be stupid Georgie. I drove an Aston Martin when I was young. This is nothing", chuckled eighty six year old Marge, adjusting her frequently slipping bifocals to the bridge of her nose.
"Look out!", cried George as Granny nearly hit the pedaller besides the arcade.
"I am fucked", thought he, "My death is as certain as the chicken in a slaughterhouse"
And thoughts of chicken made him think of KFC. Ah, the sweet smell of fried chicken. He used to savour every grain of awesomeness that spilled out of the roasted chicken leg. "I love chicken more than I love myself", he used to squall everytime his hands rested on a KFC bucket.
And there it was, stuck between the abyss of his parted thighs. A bucket full of chicken, just the way he liked it. He had no idea how it got there, but he dug into it all the same.
And amidst the chaos of traffic horns and his Granny driving at the speed of sound, the pitch of the car radio seemed cracked. From what he could gather, the news reader was talking about a lone Godzilla on the loose.
Godzilla. The name struck his brain like a pebble on silent waters. "But, but how?", he gave furtive glances across the lane, kissing the window of the whistling automobile.
"Granny, there is a God-fuckin-zilla on the loose!", cried he, "stop, stop for heaven's sake!"
Granny being old and mad, had a problem with hearing and George could see her hearing aid dangling out with all the speed and frenzy.
Realizing he was gonna die all the same, if not for the Godzilla, then by his Granny's craziness, he stuffed his mouth with the remains of the bucket with scenes of his idol Di Caprio screaming, "I will not die sober!" and munching on drugs while his ship capsized.
George awoke with a start. The dream was so real that he could very nearly taste the sweet-sour remnants of a KFC chicken nugget. It was a fortnight since he started having disturbing dreams about his Granny dying. It had always been a fast car and Granny was either driving and killing herself or get driven over and killing herself. Whatever be the scenario, she ended up with her old brains splattered all over the place like the dung of a frolicking cow. And the dreams albeit crazy, sounded like a foreboding. Deciding enough was enough, he thought of calling up his granny, when the phone rang.
"Hello"
"Hello Georgie? This is Mrs. Sylvester from across Margie's house."
Bracing himself for some horrible news he asked, "Is Granny alright?"
"Erm, I'm afraid not. She passed away yesterday night. I found her dead on the couch with the TV switched on. Apparently she died of a heart attack in the night. I'm so sorry Georgie."
The coroner examination proved that she had indeed died of a massive cardiac arrest at around 11 in the night. Though George was sad about her demise, he was happy that she died peacefully and not because of racing cars or speedy drivers. He heaved a heavy sigh and signed the papers for her burial.
(10:45 PM - The night before)
Marge was a crooked old woman in her late eighties with patched skin, inflammated sinews and a ruffled spirit. These days she couldn't even sleep in the night because of the pain on her knees. She sighed and switched on the TV to kill time for a while. They were running a new movie at 11 and she wanted to catch it before retiring for the night. The clock struck 11 and she peered into the screen with anticipation, as she felt spasms all across her shoulder frame. Her pupils dilated in shock as tremors from her heart made her gasp for air.
Wildly flaying hands and a minute later, she slunk stone dead on the couch as the TV screen spelt out the words "Fast And Furious 4".
