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Extreme graphic images
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RUPERT WAS A BEAUTIFUL LIAR. 

That boy can tell some whoopers. His grandma was everything but nice. Her name alone, Sophia, made my eardrums to suffer. 

Oh and thanks to those peppermints, my taste buds still stung as if a colony of termites were drilling holes inside them for their subterranean homes.

"Who the worm are you?!" The grey-haired woman snapped as she got closer to Luke. Then, her eyes darted to the shards of glass lying on the grass. "You broke my lickpenny wedding jar!"

The balloon in my stomach popped, making me gasp in fear on behalf of Luke. She's a badass granny. A real badass.

"I'm sorry," Luke croaked like a fallen dragon toad. "I tripped and —" He faltered. Oh yes, he's still quite in a fallen state.

Lady Sophia yanked him up by the scruff of his neck with a hand.

I shuddered. Man, was she strong! I shot Lucy an urgent look, like, Let's run away, she's a Diana in disguise.

Dianas are always strong. Take the Roman goddess of the hunt, for instance. As a hefty guy, you wouldn't want to mess with her. Unless you're homo with no wild intention. 

And then the Amazon warrior, also known as Wonder Woman. You shouldn't challenge her man to man (friendly advice). Or woman to woman either. She's crunched bones before and she'd do it again. (Yes, chicken bones and boners.)

Lady Sophia eyed Luke like he was a poor stray labrador. "You aren't Rumbelow, hmm?" She sniffed.

But wait… Labrador retrievers are supposedly famous as guide dogs. They aren't supposed to get lost. Nevermind. You won't get this. (I meant the labrador. Stay lost.)

Luke, still hanging at the mercy of the woman, was rendered speechless by her incredible might.

"Are you Timmy Dee?" She jiggled the lost Labrador by its collar. The dry, raspy sound of Luke's cotton fabric ripping filled the atmosphere.

For a moment, Luke watched her, his mouth agape. Nodding vigorously, he answered, "Yes, I am." Apparently, he thought she was asking if he were timid of her.

"Ahh," Sophia's eyes widened. "I'm so sorry, Timmy Dee. I've been waiting for you all day. I'm Lady Sophia, by the way." She extended her liver spotted hand without dropping Luke.

He took it, giving the woman the pleading teddy-bear eyes.

"You're the estate agent that was going to buy our farm in Straddfordshire, aren't you?"

"Yes, that's me," Luke shook his head like a Hawaiian hula car dancing doll, certainly looking uncertain. The collar of his tearing shirt dug more into his neck as he nodded, constricting his windpipe.

"Such a pity it's not on the market anymore." Lady Sophia canopied her forehead with her free hand.

"Why!?" Luke managed to ask with the same ounce of surprise Lady Sophia had uttered to recognize him as Timmy Dee earlier. In other words, he was playing along pretty well. "I was so bent on buying that farm, wasn't I?"

"Dear Dolan," Lady Sophia's saggy eyebags drooped, which demonstrated exactly how she felt. "You should know that farm has been with the Woods for what, — eh? — two? — three centuries? We simply cannot afford to sell it."

Luke wanted to remind her he's Timmy Dee not Dolan. He thought better of it to prevent more nomenclature chaos and for the woman not to make a discus throw out of him.

While Luke was as chokey as onion mid-air, on the floor, I was as red as beet.

"Please, can you drop me... ma? I'm choking." Luke mustered up some courage, still giving her the cute eyes.

"How many times do I have to point out I'm not a ma, but a country lady, Ben?"

"My bad, Lady Soph — "

"Water!" I cried out. "Wa...ter."

"Ian looks so green in the cheeks." Lucy pointed at me who looked more redder than green, clutching my neck. "I think he's going to throw up."

"I'm not." And I threw up.

This caught Lady Sophia's attention. She dropped Luke. Heavens bless her. Not! Then walked up to me, studied me and kicked me in the groin. "The bandits are here, Voldymyr. They're raiding our farm again."

"Ow." That must hurt. The kick.

Few minutes passed as we waited for the superhero to swoop into the scene. Honestly, I was expecting a formidable opponent to fly from the sky in a flashy cape and a frivolous Batman mask. 

Voldymyr trodded out. He was anything but a superhero. He had beetle brows for eyes, straight line for lips and a shock of ash for face. Deep trenches crisscrossed across his face like railroads. Aside from the funny brows, he looked rather pernicious. Like the reincarnation of Voldemort the Dark Wizard (with emphasis on the brows, please).

He was trembling as he walked. In his hand was a walking cane that looked healthier than his whole being. Yet he wasn't using it to walk. It would serve far better purposes. 

You just wait…

Holding it like a lethal knife in his other hand, was an aged toothbrush. Its bristles were bent like withering California palm trees. The once colourful handle had gone whitewashed with age. It looked so brittle you can break it by just yelling at it.

Most importantly, he was going to use the two sticks to beat the daylight out of the bandit. Me.

Rupert/Rumbelow jumped into action, his arm outstretched like a goalie pumped up to stop a penalty kick. A little too late if you ask me.

"Don't!"

"Is you daft like me ol' toosbrush, Rumbelow?!" The old man brandished his toothbrush warningly. "Get out of me trails, old chap."

Who uses trails these days? Maybe he thought it was one of those days when they went horseback riding to the Oregon and were attacked by a gang of bandits.

"Don't you dare, Voldymyr," Sophia's mauve suit instantly turned into Diana's Golden Eagle Armor, defending her dear Rumbelow from the evil hands of Voldymyr de Moste Dark Ashface Wizard With Bushy Brows.

Voldymyr stopped dead in his tracks. It took him a full minute to turn to face his wife. "Who is you to tell me what to do, honey? Me can't hear you well."

"I've told you several times to stop calling me honey, you bloody socialist."

"Pardon me manners, honey." Voldymyr refused to add that he had forgotten her name ten years back. "But me was a member of the Soviet — "

"It's Lady Soh-Fee-Ahh!" She disrupted their frequent long-time argument. "If you call me honey again, I promise to send you back to your cold wormhole of a country and make you play Russian roulette whilst in prison, understand?" Lady Sophia drew the rubbery ear lobe of Voldymyr downward, hoping the demented man understood her babbles.

"Yes, hon — sorry — what you say your name was again?"

"Get back inside!" Lady Sophia ordered her husband sternly.

"Suit yourself," Voldymyr said, completing a one-eighty after another full minute. 

It is a funny sight to behold when you see a demented wife of certain age dressed in official suit bossing her husband around. It is a totally different experience when all the husband could do to fight back is making a pun out of her suit.

Facing the direction of the cottage, Voldymyr started off, muttering something about bossy old school teachers under his breath as he slowly shuffled back inside.

"Now!" Lady Sophia turned to face her school children victims, hands akimbo, gum toothless. "Where were we?"

☬☬☬

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Now we've seen how cute grannies are thanks to Lady Sophia