"Well, there are many things I could think of," the woman chuckled, twisting her raven locks jocosely around her finger. "For example, the sado-masochistic ritual I was involved in in my youth. The "Heart of Venus" it was called; however, it involved men who were more eager to get to it than the women. First, I thought it was all for the taboo, but then it turned out - you know - how it wasn't expected. Now the horror wasn't masked, at all! Homicide and abuse, if you call it, but I'm glad I had emerged alive from the screams of all those women! Funny,"

"how a man screams in fear but scrambles away only after what he had feared has happened. I stood there, raging, ready to strangle each one of those men with my bare hands, knock the living insides out of them, pardonnez-moi my French, yet all I could muster was a gasp of horror, a simple, feeble jest! Ha-ha! All I could think of was love, passion, " her voice became docile, indifferent, "but the years took their toll. Now I thrive on watching sitcoms and talk shows," she laughed, taking the mutch from her  eyes as she watched the snow fall. Midway through her bottle of liquor she stopped, seeing the personage who was, aghast, sitting opposite her.

"Oh, poor boy! I have bored you," she exclaimed, keen grey eyes focusing on the youth. "I have not been condescending with my yarnings," the grandma nattered, and watched a twain of men trying to subjugate their neon pink mohair sweaters with the album cover of François Nicot printed on them. However, as soon as she rose, hand reaching out to gently point the boy in the right direction, horripilations of delirium clobbered her wrinkles and she slipped, hands catching on to anything as to break her fall. Chapped lips soon found her walking-cane; her teeth greedily clung onto it and nibbled, biting harder whenever the rough timber pierced hard into her gums, anemic with blood. Saliva dripped from her jawline; yet she continued nipping, eyes crazed with ecstasy and not minding what horrid symbolization of gore she presented. Though the boy cried, he didn't get away at first; but, upon realizing the dispossession of a toy, he ran away screaming partly with the dreadful notion of a broken promise. Now he ran all that he could, yet the snow seemed all so far.

Of the woman he saw no more.