I heard five shots coming from the front of the house. Pop,pop,pop,pop,pop in quick succession followed by screams from the street. I got up from my chair and made my way to the front of the house to see what was going on, but before I could get out onto the porch Curtis Jay came up the steps and burst into the front hallway, wild-eyed and sweating from fear and running.

“Man, get hold of your granny!” he gasped at me between big gulps of breath. “She shooting up the street.”

Behind CJ came Granny, dragging my old .22 rifle by the barrel and cussing up a storm, the latter of which was far out of her usual 88 year old Pentecostal character.

I said through the screen door, “Granny, what the hell. . .” as she climbed the steps but she cut me off, saying, “Reload that gun, boy, I’mo teach that two-timing Jake Harlan some manners.”

Jake was her sometime gentleman friend.

I took the rifle from her and said, “Really?”

“Don’t you get sassy with me, now _reload!”

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.