So, I walked right in.
Yes, the professor does that sort of thing.
See, if I’m ever about, I might just walk right in. Right in your house; right in your car; right in your window.
That’s how I am.
It’s a bit of a fault, and could end up getting me in trouble one day.
But since the professor is always in trouble, I don’t worry about it too muchly much.
Anyways, I walked right in.
The door was open, after all. And you know the thingy: If the door is open, it’s an invite.
I probably wouldn’t walk through this door, would you?
Now, Princess Greta was in there. It was a huge palace of sorts, I should add.
And her mother was with her, or grandmother. She was old, in truth. With many creases and tarnishes.
As soon as my shoe made a clank on the floor, the grandmother called out:
“You?! Who are you?! Huh?!”
“I’m the one you rarely want to see, but that you usually do.”
I thought that was a good answer.
Greta just blushed. She does that sort of thing. Probably because the grandmother was a bit embarrassing.
Rats and a Heifer.
I walked over to them and stopped. Now was the time to say something nice. So I said:
“You two look very nice, and I only say that ’cause I’m trying to make you feel good, though why I want to do that, I’m not sure.”
The grandmother raised a finger. “I know you! Don’t I?!”
“I’m unsure, the sudden,” I answered. “But I know you… You’re Greta’s grandmother.”
I felt good; I felt righteous. After all, that shut her up, and it proved I knew her and that I belonged in the house.
She looked straight at me. “I’m her mother.”
Moral: Don’t jump to conclusions that make sense.
The Punchy Lands! 