Granny's

“Well?” somebody asked, and he shook his head. “Sent him to Granny’s House with zero delay.” “DAMN,” one of them reacted, and the others just sat there feeling the finality. “Uh …,” the fresh meat started, “… what’s Granny’s House?” All of the inmates stared. “Granny’s House, and I’m only sayin’ this once, “is a bed and breakfast in town where the little old ladies who run it make you the best home cooked meal of your sorry life. They feed you and then they kill you. You never see it comin’.” “And the punishment always fits the crime,” somebody added. “Dead in ways you can’t even spell.” “Is that even legal?” Fresh Meat asked, alarmed. “Are they connected to the prison system?” Everyone laughed. “What they ARE is well beyond The Pause and taking exactly zero shit anymore. What they ARE is every mythological monster that ever made you lose sleep … and now it’s making you goulash and pie.” The buzzer soundly loudly and they all got up; it was time for count.