Grandma Hubbard loved her old porch swing.
She loved to swing in the morning, listening to the morning birds. She loved to swing in the evening, listening to the frogs in the creek.
Late at night, when things got quiet she’d retire for the night, only to rise again to repeat the ritual the next day.
Till one day, Grandma Hubbard got up to find The Devil sitting on her porch swing. “Grandma Hubbard,” he intoned deeply. “I’ve admired your porch swing from afar, and it is now MINE! You may have it back, in exchange for your soul!”
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“What? But you… I mean… you… wha…” stammered the Devil for 20 minutes, till he resignedly disappeared in a porch-swingingly brimstoney puff.
And that’s the story of how the Devil was very anticlimactically fooled by an old Grandma Hubbard. But what about Grandma Hubbard, Ghandi and the porch teeter-totter, you ask? That is another story…
