She choked on the words, flinching as they

She choked on the words, flinching as they stumbled their way over her tongue. She was meant to say "I love you", but lies clung to her throat like phlegm. She gagged on them as

mowed down on double stuff oreo's. She whipped her arm out and felt the pregnant belly. Grandma was going to give birth any day now. So she got a subscription to

"Knocked-Up and Milky" magazine. As if... there was no way her grandma's semi-petrified yams were going to do anything but continue their sagging journey down to her knees. Still,

grandma always brought out her trusty, yet hardened yams every holiday season, relying on melted marshmallows oozing over them to sweeten the deal. However, no magazine would

be thick enough to serve as base for her main dish, so she's always had to use the yellow pages instead. This year, however, grandma came up with a much better way to

pass the time. Russian Roulette. Grandma placed a bullet inside the revolver and spun the chamber. "Who's up for a bit of fun?" chuckled Grandma in that familiar, loving way

like a dog returning to its vomit. My sister ended up getting the bullet, and slumped over onto the table. "Whoops!" I said, shrugging and laughing with Grandma. Those days were

filled with fond memories. Yes, I remember when Grandma and I would take our guns into the backyard and shoot at anything that moved, not even caring if a bullet found its way

Gramps got enough mileage out of the story of the night he "turned the other cheek" to make up for the 21 stitches & lengthy hospital stay. It got better with every telling.