It's a violent Grandpage.

I am shoulder deep in hot water over loaded with Epsom salts. I let the sea sponge find my grandmas wrinkled ass and I scrub away trying to think about pleasant things. I am on a beach. Yes. Its sunny and my feet sink into the hot sand, I start walking into the water, the small waves slosh over my feet and ankles. I float on my back and feel the sun on my face, the breeze blows over me smelling of hot shit...oh god. My grandma pushes more, making a grunting sound and the water gets thicker with her emptyings. Her head is down like she is ashamed, but I can hear her giggling.

After I wash the stink of processed tapioca and Kraft singles out of my hair and off my body I retire to my room to try and relax. Tomorrow will be better I think, knowing I am lying to myself.

A start to the new day, I yawn and stretch and manage to drag myself out of bed. The first thing to do is get the old bag dressed. She is already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed naked with a strange smirk on her face. I get a baggy dress out of the closet and tell her to put her arms up. As I pull the dress down over her emaciated skin sack I feel a bump...not A bump, THE bump. The topic of so many pleasant conversations with Gram. The boil. It is about the size of a baked potato and oozing what is not sour cream. It is a horrible mass that smells like feet and stale cheese puffs when it weeps. I want to make sure I didn't agitate the damn thing by rubbing the polyester fabric over its swollen bulk. So I lift the back of the dress and to my horror, she had somehow drawn a face on it with a sharpie. As she hears me clear my throat and attempt not to throw up she reaches around and slaps a post-it note near the small pus-filled person. All it says on it is YOU, with an arrow.

This old thing is pure evil. Now when we are stuck in the house together she walks backwards and shrugs her shoulders and mimics my voice, making the growth of doom say horrible things. Me and my crazy naked Grandma. A tumor me that says, 'My ass keeps getting fatter!'. Something must be done.

3am, the house is quiet. Or is it? What is that sound? I tip toe down the hall and find the noise is coming from in her room. She is talking. I think she is talking to her cat Reverend Meatpiddles. I put my ear to the door. World domination? I heard that wrong, didn't I?

In the past few weeks the house has been filling with stray cats. I keep throwing these scurvy things outside, and the next morning there is 4 or 5 more. I asked Grammy about them, she tells me they have no place to go and they make her happy. I know there has to be more to this, she doesn't enjoy happiness.

I have been hiding in my room, the boil has been extra mean and the cats are taking over. There are around 75 cats now, I am not sure of what she is feeding them either, because she doesn't leave the house and I refuse to buy them food.

The horror is real...I set up a baby sitter cam inside a stuffed kitty in the corner of her room. She has been grinding up dead cats and mixing it with old food from the garbage, making her own creepy sort of canned cat food. Its hard to believe, but it gets worse. Grandma started injecting the slop into the other kitties in the room. The skin under the fur bubbles up in stinky blobs smelling of rotten beef and tuna. When the new hungry cats come in from the cold, they smell the 'food' and chew through the other cats, the room is now a growing mass of cat. It is becoming one giant cat, cats under another cats skin, inside another meowing fur bastard. I am scared. I hear Gram speaking in German to her ever-growing cat mass.

One week later...

The news is reporting on a sun spotted old woman wearing a cape riding on top of a 15 foot tall drippy feline pile, hideous cat heads stick out from all over the heap, making screechy sounds, several cat asses defecate as the mutated beast slumps down the streets. Grandma peels off her baggy skin revealing a hideous half robotic face. I had noticed that my appliances were missing from the kitchen, but was too afraid to ask why. She has turned herself into a horrible smelly cyborg! My god...
4 sharp metal spider legs pop out of her back and they start ripping people out of cars. Her jaw dislocates an out pops Reverend Meatpiddles with a syringe. He injects a bluish liquid into heads left and right. As the bodies fall they start to shrivel up, backs curve and teeth fall out. Its worse than I thought, she is starting an army of old folks...stealing away all the youth she runs into.

Date unknown. How much time has passed? I have no idea. The last thing I remember is Grandma crashing through the living room, she implanted her old bionic head next to mine. I need to type quietly now...the body will wake up...I just needed to get my story out so perhaps one day I can be rescued and get this Alzheimer head off my body. Oh no, its starting to wake up. But for nowI better rest up for bowling tomorrow and a walk around the mall.