Scratchy Granny's place is a crow's nest. Junk and random scrap-treasures, tables arranged to look like wizard inventions and strange alchemy-experiments, and glittery half-finished things filling every nook and cranny. Uncle Bubba and the Tigermonkey Girl stumble their way through the maze of clutter and find Scratchy Granny in front of her stove. She is surrounded with piles of apricots that look beyond rotten, reeking of cider or home-remedy ointments or something, and she's stirring a sputtering pot of goo that must have something to do with these piles of dubious fruit.
The two kids move closer to the old woman.
Why did you come here? asks Scratchy Granny, turning her Granny face out of the fireglow of her pot.
Wait, let me guess... Your life feels rotten and you have no idea what to make of it.
She sighs, and turns back to her pot.
Would you like some of my jam? The jampot suddenly plops and and hisses, and Uncle Bubba feels a little sick.
Um... I'm allergic to apricots, he says.
The Tigermonkey Girl steps up, and gladly gobbles a thick slice of bread dripping with the golden orange goo.
Then the old crone smacks Uncle Bubba across the forehead with her spoon.
If you don't eat this jam, I cannot help you, she says. Her pot sizzles, as if angry.
Uncle Bubba is scared out of his wits, so he takes a mouthful of the jam. It actually tastes delicious. A hint of cinamon, and the sour fruity taste of apricots makes his tongue tingle.
So, what's your problem? Did your mum give you a beating for playing with your poo? Scratchy Granny asks Bubba.
Here we go, inner child mumbo jumbo, says the girl, and rolls her eyes.
I never play with poo, says Bubba.
Too bad, says the Granny. I bet you never say 'nipples' either?
What?
Nothing. Tell me, what's so rotten about your life that you can't make something form it?
Uncle Bubba swallows some jam. I need to take care of my little friend. He's an owl. But I can't even take care of myself.
That's no way for a tigermonkey to talk, says the girl.
Who's the tigermonkey? says Bubba.
Scratchy Granny slaps him with her spoon again. This might come as a surprise Bubba, she says, but you're a little messed in the head.
Please stop hitting me, says Bubba.
Scratchy Granny scoops up a gob of the rotten fruit. She brings it really close to Bubba's face. You think your life is molding, she says, But we shall find some good recipes to turn it into something wonderful.
That...sounds...good... says Bubba, trying not to flinch from the awful reek.
Good, says Granny, and smiles for the first time.
***
