“I have a ham,” my mother said. “Are you staying for supper?”
“Sure.”
I put the Buick in the garage, locked everything up nice and tight, and went into the house to have ham.
“It's gonna be two weeks tomorrow since Fred's been missing,” Grandma said at dinner. “I thought for sure he'd have turned up by now—one way or another. Even aliens don't keep people that long. Usually they just probe your insides and let you go.”
My father hunkered down over his plate.
“Of course, maybe they started probing Fred and he croaked. What do you think they'd do then? You think they'd just pitch him out? Maybe their spaceship was over Afghanistan when they tossed Fred, and we'll never find him. Good thing he isn't a woman, what with landing in Afghanistan and all. I hear they don't treat women so good over there.”
My mother paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, and her eyes darted to the side window. She listened like that for a moment and then resumed eating.
“Nobody's going to bomb the garage,” I said to her. “I'm almost sure of it.”
“Boy, wouldn't it be something if someone did bomb our garage,” Grandma said. “That'd be a good story to tell at the beauty parlor.”
I was starting to wonder why I hadn't received a call from Ranger. It wasn't like him not to get back to me right away. I set my shoulder bag on my lap and pawed through the clutter, looking for my cell phone.
“What are you looking for?” Grandma asked.
“My cell phone. I've got so much junk in my bag I can never find anything.” I started pulling stuff out and setting it on the table. Can of hairspray, hairbrush, zippered makeup pouch, flashlight, minibinoculars, Ranger's license plates, bottle of nail polish, stun gun . . .
Grandma leaned over the table to take a better look. “What's that thing?”
“Stun gun,” I said.
“What's it do?”
“It emits an electrical charge.”
My father forked in more ham, focusing his concentration on his plate.
Grandma got out of her seat and came around to examine the stun gun. “What do you do with this?” she wanted to know, picking it up and studying it. “How does it work?”
I was still rooting through my bag. “You press the metal prongs against someone and push the button,” I said.
“Stephanie,” my mother said, “take that away from your grandmother before she electrocutes herself.”
“Aha!” I said, finding my cell phone. I pulled it out and looked at it. Dead battery. No wonder Ranger hadn't called.
“Look, Frank,” my grandmother said to my father, “did you ever see anything like this? Stephanie says you just stick it against someone and push the button . . .”
My mother and I both jumped out of our seats. “No!”
Too late. Grandma had the prongs pressed against my father's arm. Zzzzzt.
My father's eyes glazed over, a piece of ham fell out of his mouth, and he crashed to the floor.
“He must have had a heart attack,” Grandma said, looking down at my father. “I told him and told him, he uses too much gravy.”
“It's the stun gun!” I yelled at her. “That's what happens when you use a stun gun on someone!”
Grandma bent down for a closer look. “Did I kill him?”
My mother was on her knees alongside my grandmother. “Frank?” she shouted. “Can you hear me, Frank?”
I took his pulse. “He's okay,” I said. “Grandma just scrambled some brain cells. It's not permanent. He'll be good as new in a couple minutes.”