As always, at a past part, Small Damask Hat lass starts a yarn. That lass walks a tarmac park path past a grassy lawn, a canal and a tram track.  At hand, a bag that has Gran’s snacks.  

Grand Bad Afghan paws at that lass, asks, “That sack grasps what?”

“Gran’s snacks,” Small Damask Hat says, and acts standard.  

Grand Bad Afghan says, “Grab many daffs and flax and snapdrag’ns and a pansy. Gran has t’fancy plants.”

“A-star plan,” says Small Damask Hat and at that, that lass salsas away, happy.

Grand Bad Afghan darts away.

At Gran’s flat Gran lays, sad, wants Grand-lass and all snacks that lass can carry.

Rat-a-tat-tat at hard jamb plank.  

“Am at back,” Gran says.  

Grand Bad Afghan grabs Gran and Gran bawls, “Away!  Grand Bad Afghan, away.”

“Nay, Gran” says Grand Bad Afghan and has Gran as a snack.  

Grand Bad Afghan has Gran’s garb and lays, naps, as Gran.

That lass, pansy at hand and snack bag.  “Gran’ll say thanks, yay.”

Rat-a-tat-tat at hard jamb plank. “Am at back,” Grand Bad Afghan says, an awkward lady twang.

“Gran? What vast gawk-balls?”

“Can calmly watch all, my Grand-lass.”

“Gran? What vast chat-traps?”

“Can calmly catch all talk parts, my Grand-lass.”

“Gran? What vast sharp fangs?!”

“Can calmly champ and gnaw all, my Grand-lass!”

Afghan draws claws, flash sharp. Small Damask Hat flaps, pansy falls.  Grand Bad Afghan starts, lass at hand, jaws ajar, pants, gasps

At last a handy man lands at Gran’s flat as man harks alarm.  

“What haps?” asks handy man.  

“Away!  Handy man, away!” blasts Grand Bad Afghan.  

Handy man attacks Grand Bad Afghan, saws rampant, a fatal slash at Grand Bad Afghan’s mass.  Plasma sprays all, laps at mat.  All’s awash.  Gran lays, as standard as always, gasps.  

Gran bards Grand Bad Afghan’s flabby carcass and crafts a tasty snack – afghan tart, gravy, mash and amaranth salad.  

All snack and nap, nay at harm’s way.