For each time I speak to her, she asks if I have been to the beach lately. And no, she doesn't ask to see if I've been basking in the glory of the sun. She asks because she fears for Shea and I's lives at the beach.
She apparently knows more than the average folk. Because, according to her, there are all sorts of mutant oceanic life. I'm not talking about fish with three eyes or a missing fin. I'm talking about mutants that jump out of the water and swallow large dogs whole. According to my grandmother, they look something like this:
So, with each phone conversation, I remind my grandmother that she, in fact, lives closer to the ocean than I do. But, since I have a handsome dog, the mutants are more likely to go after me. I guess, being 600 miles or so from the ocean, I will never understand the warnings with each phone call, although I have come to expect them.
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