| I sat back and gazed at his black swathed figure at work. His pale hands folding and folding the delicate material that was his goal. He tucked it deep in his pocket and then smiled at me showing every tooth in his skull-like face before scooping me up into his thin arms to set me on a jutting hip bone. It seemed as if his thin frame should crack like a twig at even the slight weight of my dumpy six year old body, but nothing happened except a few creaky joints. “Grumpy is getting to old for this job, isn't he Beetle-bug?” He juggled me into a more comfortable position and started his odd gliding walk forward, never jostling me. Dank fog billowed in his wake, condensing on my pink sandle as it hung down behind him. I simply giggled and shook the water off as he wrapped me in his insubstantial cloak to keep me warm on the short trip home. “Let's not tell Grammy what we did tonight, alright honey? You know she hates it when I take you to work with me.” I chewed on the ends of my dark curls and nodded my head while yawning. “Aw shoot... it's past your bed time again. As soon as we get home we'll get some shut eye.” “Will you read me a bed time story, Grumpy?” “Of course Beetle-bug.” And so, it shouldn't seem that odd that if you looked in the window of a particular house on second street you would see the strange sight of a black clad skeleton perched on the side of a pink sleigh bed with a pink crown seated on his skull and wand in hand as he narrates the Cinderella story to a nearly snoozing six year old. Sometimes there are perks to being Grimm's Grandchild.
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