"My grammy is dead, you jerk." I yelled back.
"Not her. I'm sure he meant the other one." Jeff said.
"Oh." I replied.
"Come on, you guys! Get packed! We have to get going!" suggested Michael.
"Wait a minute. Both of my grandmothers are dead!" I remembered.
"You've given us virtually no information here. What do we need to bring? How long are we going to be gone? What do we face when we get there? Most importantly, why are we going? Exactly what is our premise here?" Jeff queried.
"I was just on the phone with Neil Portnow! We had a long conversation! Neil Portnow!!" Michael expressed, as he kicked a can down the road.
"I miss my grammy." I sniffled.
"We know that. Well, I know that. It appears Clark has checked out. But the fact that you had a lengthy conversation with Mr. Portnow in and of itself does not provide us with guidance on how to proceed." Jeff explained.
"We're going to...go. And do...things. With...people. And stuff. The gaps can all be filled in later. You know the routine." Michael offered.
"My grammy used to bake the most delicious muffins. I miss those muffins. Now I'm hungry. Do we have any muffins?" I inquired.
"Go look in the kitchen." Jeff advised.
"Come on, let's just get going!" Michael prodded.
I packed a basket full of muffins. Blueberry, zucchini, lemon-poppyseed, apple bran, banana walnut, chocolate, cranberry-orange, cinnamon, pumpkin, cheese, raspberry-buttermilk, Other things too.
Then we went to the Grammys.