It happened once, you know. It was the face of the old lady who lived next door, and my God was it hideous. It was the very model for every crone ever represented on the cover of a children’s book of dark fairy tales. Few incidents in my life sent chills up my spine as bad as that one.
And her elderly daughter once told me that she disagreed with drilling for oil because it was taking the lubrication out of the earth and that would lead to more earthquakes. I’ve never known whether she might have been right.