Grammy and the Harry Potter Erotica

Imagine a few mildly porny terms. A word or two you'd find on packaging at the Ben-Wah Balls Sex Emporium. Back in the spicy section.

Now picture your grandma.

Now picture looking over your grandma's shoulder and seeing these words printed on cards she is holding in her hand. 

So that happened.

It was all my fault but I'm going to blame it on Tom anyway. I had separated out all the more depraved squealing hog kinds of "Cards Against Humanity" playing cards. Except I didn't include Tom in my plan. He saw a bunch of loose cards lying on the table and put them back, all tidy in the front of the box. And then I dealt Grammy those first cards with no visual inspection. 

She laughed so hard she choked on a piece of potato knish. Stay street, Grammy.

Meanwhile my mother, on the other side of game table, somehow managed to get dealt 20 cards and refused to give any of them up. She hoarded "Helplessly giggling at the mention of the Hutus and Tutsis," "Authentic Mexican Cuisine," "A sad handjob," "A tiny horse" and "Rush Limbaugh's soft shitty body." 

I hate it when your mother cheats and then wins and still won't admit she was cheating, even though everybody saw her over there with half the deck.