"Well?" Grandma urged.
I pasted a smile on my face and swung my arm in front of my body. "Ahoy, matey. Thar be booty t'seek."
Jace covered his mouth with his hands and started coughing.
Grandma's face drew together in concern. "Dear, maybe a career in theatre isn't in your future. But who am I to judge? If that makes poor Jace feel better then…" She shrugged. "Besides if that doesn't work, I brought my magic tea."
"Magic tea?" I asked, peering over her petite shoulder. She lifted the top of the container and pointed inside. "See the chicken feathers?"
Jace's eyes widened in horror.
"Why yes," I grinned, "I do."
"It's an ancient recipe, passed down through my family. What you do is, you boil the feathers in hot water then drink the hot water once the feathers have been boiled for at least eight minutes."
"Tasty." I almost threw up in my mouth.
"We should count our lucky stars that the restaurant had some live chickens out back. I plucked a few of these beauts and steamed them right up."
"I bet Jace is counting his stars right now."
He flipped me off and glared.
"Here, Jace," Grandma poured some cloudy liquid into a white cup and handed it to him, "this will make you all better. You do want to get better, don't you?"
"Yes." His jaw flexed.
Holy crap. He was going to do it. He was going to drink the tea. I almost didn't want to look, but I couldn't help it. He brought the cup to his lips, took a small sip, and grimaced before pulling it back. A small feather attached itself to his lips.
"Oh dear, it was a male chicken. I can always tell these things." Grandma pulled the feather from Jace's lips and chuckled. "Back when I sexed chickens, well, it was my job to figure out which was which."
"Sexed. Chickens?" Jace repeated, his voice hoarse. "That's not a job, Grandma. And I doubt this works."
You'd think Jace would have already learned his lesson: Never doubt Grandma. And when she says something that just shouts crazy, don't engage. Just back away and leave it alone. Because it was a guarantee that something insane, illogical, and, nine times out of ten, illegal would be shared in her presence.
"It works, and it is too a job. Want to know how to tell the difference between a female chicken and a male chicken?"
"No. No, I don't." Jace shook his head. "I'm sick. I want a good night's sleep without visions of you sexing chickens."
"Not until your tea's finished," Grandma instructed, urging the tea closer to his mouth. He seemed to pale as the cup was brought closer to his lips.
Jace's eyes darted to mine. I knew that look. It was fear, pure fear. I took pity on the guy; after all, he was drinking feather tea.
"Tell me, Grandma," I grabbed her hands and had turned her toward me, while behind me, Jace slowly poured the tea into the potted plant next to the bed. We'd just committed murder via feather tea. Poor plant would be lucky to survive the next five minutes, let alone an entire day.
Best bet, the plant dies or turns into a hybrid chicken plant that Grandma takes credit for discovering.
My imagination was running away from me. I really needed to get normal friends.
"Well, the males' are jagged, whereas the females' are smooth," Grandma said, serious as a heart attack. "You see, there's feather sexing and feather venting."
I had no words.
Jace cleared his throat, "Venting?"
"Oh yes." Grandma chuckled. "But there's a school for that."
I felt my eyes widen in horror as Grandma chuckled and pulled a feather from the giant tea pot.