Granny Frass Says…

Granny Frass Says: Some People Would Put The Devil to Shame…

Well now, I’ve been minding my own business up here, sipping a drop of strong tea and keeping an eye on things below when word reached me about the latest carry-on. And let me tell you, if I had me old walking stick I’d have flung it straight through the clouds when I heard.

A death in the family, and my girl wasn’t told.
Not a word. Not a call. Not so much as a tap on a window.
But you can be damn sure the same shower of snakes were front and center at the funeral, sitting in the good seats, faces set like holy pictures, like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. Bloody hypocrites, the lot of them.

I told you years ago, child, a family name doesn’t make a family heart. Some people you’re better off without, even if you came from the same womb or shared the same roof. There’s ones in every bloodline that would sell their own souls for the good china or a scrap of power. And that crowd? They’ve made a career out of it.

Bully knew. Franny knew.
And what did they do?
Kept it quiet. Sat on it like hens on rotten eggs. Because spite is their currency and exclusion is their sport.

They’ve spent their whole lives playing God with other people’s feelings. Deciding who matters, who’s allowed in, who gets the scraps of attention when it suits them. And then, when there’s a death, oh Jesus, the stage performances would put the Abbey Theater to shame.

I can picture it now.
Franny dabbing her dry eyes with a lace hankie, whispering about “the poor soul” while keeping one eye on the neighbors. Bully, standing at the church door, shaking hands like a politician, acting like the great protector of the family name.
It would turn your stomach.

And they think people don’t notice.
But we do.
The living. The dead. The old ones. And me.
Granny Frass sees everything.

And let me tell you, the ones up here had plenty to say about it.
“You were right about that lot. The badness runs deep in them.”
And it does. Like a sickness in the roots of a good tree. And sometimes the only cure is to cut the diseased branches off and let them rot on their own.

To my girl down there, you did nothing wrong. Don’t you dare carry their poison in your heart. It’s not your burden. You’ve got more fire in your little finger than the whole sorry crew of them put together. And Saul too, fair play to him for calling it. There’s still some good stock left in the line.

Lesson of the Day from Granny Frass:

Blood might be thicker than water, but bad blood will drown you if you let it. Choose your family by heart, not by birth. And when people show you who they are, believe them the first time. Some people aren’t family, they’re cautionary tales.

And as for the rest of them, let them choke on their own bitterness. Their day will come, and there’s not a funeral flower in the world that’ll cover the stench of a mean life badly lived.

Now, pass the teapot. I’ve more stories to tell and a few souls up here still need straightening out.

-Granny Frass 🌻