BRRINGGG, BRRINGG....

The phone rang with its annoying tone. Hamston, nicknamed Ham by all his friends, crawled out of bed, dropping to the floor with a thud and crawled over to the phone. He glanced at the little red digital clock on his desk, a clock that was partially obscured from view by the way, but he felt he saw enough to make out a time: 3:30.

What the hell? Who would be calling me at this hour, he thought. He picked up the receiver and placed it to his ear.

"Hallow..." he managed to get out in a voice that was half asleep.

"Hamston!" The voice on the other end was entirely too clear. But why so loud? Ham had to hold the phone away from his ear to keep from going deaf.

"Grandmother?" he asked in a tone that more confused than anything. Why would she be calling now?

"Hamston, why did you do it? How could you have forgotten your grandmother? Haven’t I done enough for you, Hamston? Why do you treat me this way?"

While she was speaking to him, Ham climbed up his desk chair and into it. His room was rather small. All it contained was his desk, bed, dresser and other small knickknacks. The only thing that made it home was the posters on the walls. The movie and art posters came by way of Ham; his roommate brought the chick ones. It wasn’t a bad deal — the room had something for everybody. He sat looking at his stack of books and papers on his desk. These exact same books were what kept him out night after night, he had to learn, he had to make sure he understood everything in order to keep his scholarship at HammerTim University, HammeredTime University to all the parties. He turned on his desk lamp and glanced over at his roommate's bed. Empty. What else did he expect? Of course that football jock was out getting drunk and laid, it was Tuesday night. Hamston looked over at his calendar on his wall just out of curiosity.

Shit! He noticed on his calendar, circled in red ink, in big black letters: GRANDMOTHER’S BIRTHDAY-DO NOT FORGET.

He forgot.

What an idiot, he thought. How could he have forgotten? What planet was he on for the last few days?

"Grandma... I... I.. am so sorry. I cannot believe I forgot. I feel so bad, I have it on my calendar and everything..."

"And you should feel bad, do you know how much this upsets me? After all the things I did for you. After all those birthdays or yours..."

"I said I was really sorry Grandma. Please if there is anything I can do to..."

"No, there is nothing that you can do now. Nothing can make this hurt go away. I can not believe you forgot your poor, little old grandmother..."

"I didn’t mean to..."

"DON’T YOU INTERRUPT ME!"

Ham almost threw the phone away from his ear. He didn’t know his grandmother could have a voice like that. When he returned the phone to his ear his grandmother was still screaming at him, but in a slightly more polite way now.

"...never in my life. It’s time for you to live up to this mistake, do you understand me? I said do you understand me! I see you don’t anything to say. Fine. We’ll see who loses out on this. You know that college tuition I pay every six months? Yeah, well, forget it. Ain’t no grandson of mine going to get a free ride, no sir. You want money, you better work for your money, just like I did for you."

Ham couldn’t believe his ears. His grandmother was cutting him off? And only after he forgot one birthday? What was going on? "The rest of this college tuition is going towards my trip to Hawaii. Yeah, your grandmother is going to go get surfed and turfed."

That was more than he needed to know. What the fuck planet was he living on? The twilight zone? His grandmother was going to go to Hawaii... and to get surfed and turfed? What the fuck is that?

"How do you like that Hamston?"

"Grandma.. I don’t know what to say?" He was entirely to shocked for this to sink in.

"Say that you are an idiot, and that you know you are an idiot, and that you treat your grandmother like shit, and so she is going to treat you like shit!"

Something snapped in Hamston. He couldn’t take this, not this early, not over this little screw up.

"Now look, grandmother. Yeah, I screwed up, but it won’t happen again. And you know it won’t happen again."

"Don’t talk back to me, you little ungrateful bastard."

"SHUT UP, GRANDMA!" Ham yelled. After, there was complete silence. He didn’t know what to say next, for he was fairly certain he didn’t want to tell his grandmother to shut up. Well that is a lie, of course he did; he didn’t want to hear this shit at 3:30... no wait, 3:40 in the morning. But he didn’t actually want to say it out loud.

"Is that the way it is now, Hamston?"

He had no answer, but he sure tried to voice one. "I... I..." He couldn’t get anything out. He didn’t know whether his grandmother was as shocked as he was, but he certainly didn’t want to find out. He could always hang up the phone, but he could only imagine the verbal beating he would receive then.

"I see..." And that was last normal thing he heard that night. The ear end of the phone began to growl. Yes, growl. And that's not all it did. He held the phone away from his ear, at first thinking his grandmother was so mad that she just growled, but he soon realized that it was actually the phone itself that growled. What the hell? As if growling was not enough, the earpiece then began to move. Not like it was twisting off or anything, but move, as if it had joints. It morphed and moaned a sickly plastic moan. He continued to hold the phone, truly believing... well not believing anything. He didn’t know what to think, therefore he sat there at his desk his mind a complete blank just staring at the phone. What was his grandmother doing to that phone? Suddenly, that's when it happened, the strangest thing to happen to Ham yet.

One of the earpiece holes within the phone widened. Only slightly, and what came out of the phone was a small hand and arm, both the width of a pencil. It then widened itself, staying small at the earpiece. The hand and arm were his grandmother’s!

What the hell is this? Oh my god, Ham though as he dropped the phone in disbelief. The hand reached for the receiver itself, lifting it into the air and holding it afloat. It seemed unnatural to the law of physics for something to be held by itself.. .wait... scratch that. A hand coming out of a phone isn’t exactly in accordance with the physics laws, either. The hand suddenly let go of the receiver, which floated in place, but more importantly, the hand began to strike Ham in the face. It slapped him several times, and it just kept slapping him, all the while he could hear his grandmother’s hoarse voice screaming, telling him to learn to respect his elders.

Oh god, I'll respect, I'll respect.... Ham thought as he began to feel a little pee dribble down his leg.

Panicking, Hamston took the free-floating phone and slammed it down into the phone base. The arm, apparently sensing the movement of the phone, began to retract into the receiver; however, it didn’t move quickly enough. With a sharp crack and a scream from within the phone, the hand snapped from the earpiece. The phone was in the cradle, sure, but the hand was lying on the floor next to it, squirming with unvoiced pain.

"Holy shit!" Ham screamed. He chopped his grandmothers hand off! He chopped her hand off! But what the hell was it doing coming out of his phone anyway? Cautiously, Ham approached the still hand. It was old and wrinkly, just like grandma’s. Should I touch it? Against all better judgment, he did.

"Gross," he said as he picked it up off the floor and held it as if it were a dirty diaper. It didn’t stink; in fact it had no smell, well, except for the old lady stink, but that's a given. Also, shouldn’t a severed limb bleed? This one didn’t, and Ham couldn’t understand why. The bones of the wrist jutted from the palm, but the skin simply hung limp, without blood and seemingly with no muscle. OK, now this is the weirdest shit ever. What the hell am I going to do with a hand? Hang it from my rearview mirror? Or better yet, hang it above the mantle of my fireplace as a sign of my great physical prowess! Wait, what the hell am I talking about? This is my grandmothers! Oh my god!!!

He dropped the hand, and watched as it bounced off the carpeted floor. He turned away towards his trash basket, and let the vomit fly!

Seconds of awful sickness passed, but for Hamston it felt like minutes, hours. Never had he vomited so much in his life, not even when he had that nasty strand of stomach flu. He sat back down on the floor next to his trash basket wondering what was going on and what he should do next? Should he report this to Campus Security? Yeah, they won’t think I'm a nut, nooooo. How about the police? Worse idea yet. Hmmmm... what about just calling 911 and telling them you’re having a nervous breakdown. That seems most plausible, but I don’t want to go on all sorts of drugs and have doctors examine my brain. Better to be in jail. He was low on options; and he knew it. But that didn’t matter anyway, all was about to be solved.

It came with a low noise, more like a low, screeching hum. It got louder, and louder, as if it were approaching. He looked around in confusion; then without knowing why, his eyes set themselves upon the window. It came in through the window. There was a loud crash and glass flew everywhere. Hamston had just enough time to cover his eyes. He felt a shard of glass enter his leg. It hurt; it hurt a lot, but Hamston was so caught up in the surreality of the moment that he barely noticed. Whatever it was that crashed through his window landed at the foot of his bed. It was gray, wrinkly, breathing heavy, and missing a hand.

"Grandma?!" was all Hamston could say. This was indeed the strangest night in his life. And it was all because he forgot his grandmother’s birthday.

She raised her head so that her eyes meat his. Hamston stood. Their gaze met and Hamston felt something course through his body, fear. Fear and power. He felt as if something was alive in him, as if something made him want to take charge with whatever came next. His grandmother raced forward, and threw a punch with her only hand. She struck Hamston square in the jaw and sent him flying back. He slammed into his stereo, which now had somehow turned on and began to play. It was something fast, something fun. Something like... fighting music, how ironic. Hamston jumped back to his feet, a CD in hand. He flung it at his approaching grandmother. It sliced through her arm, but didn’t catch enough of her to slow her down. She advanced and again cracked Ham in the jaw. He fell back and his spine caught the corner of his dresser taking him down. His back was killing him, but it wasn’t going to take him out of this fight. With speed he never knew he had, or rather never had had before, he twisted his body in a backward motion and flipped himself back up onto his bed. His grandmother approached, but he kicked her below the chin. He head snapped back and she fell a few steps. Then the real action began.

He leapt off the bed, being careful not to slam his head on the ceiling, and sent a kick flying in her direction. She twisted her body out of his way and grabbed his leg with her free hand. She turned again, sending him hurtling towards the wall. With a simple twist, he used his feet to brace the impact and, by pushing off again, gained momentum. What's happening to me? How am I able to do this? And boy, grandma can move! All these complex maneuvers were coming to Hamston without him even thinking about it; it was if his instincts were taking over.

The music stopped, but then again restarted on new song. Their fighting music was in sync with their movements. It seemed so planned.

He bounded off the wall and hit his grandmother in the stomach with his shoulder. They both fell to the floor, but soon both were back on their feet. His grandmother backed off towards the corner of his room.

"Forget my birthday will you!" She yelled with her one hand pointing towards him. "I’ll show you what happens to ungrateful little bastards who forget their grandmothers. AAAHHHH"

She grabbed his broom from the corner of the room and charged. Hamston was caught off guard and she managed to hit him across the temple. He fell to his knees, holding his head. His grandmother struck again, hitting him down the center of his back, in the same spot where he hit the dresser. He fell completely now. His grandmother twirled the broom with incredible ease, all the while screaming at Hamston about missing her birthday. She brought the broom down on his back again, and again, and again, laughing as she kept hitting him over and over.

"No, Stop!" he pleaded without results. He began to scream louder hoping to make her stop. But his efforts were futile.

"Wake up, you asshole!" It was his roommate’s voice. Hamston opened his eyes to see his roommate standing over him. He looked angry. Hamston turned around on his back. No one other than his roommate was there. He stood up and put his back against the wall.

"Where is she, where did she go?"

"I have no clue what the hell you are talking about. I think you were dreaming or something. I don’t care. What I do care is that you woke my ass up! I was having this dream, man, about these two women in a tropical island..."

Hamston didn’t care what his roommate was talking about. He surveyed the room. The window was unbroken; the radio was off; the broom was in the corner, and his clock said it was 3:25. 3:25... so he was back in time? Was it all a dream? It must have been. What day is it? Oh shit, I forgot to get grandma a birthday present.

"...And then I was about to get the glue, but then you woke me up. What the hell were you dreaming about, anyway? I woke up to ‘grandma, don’t, grandma please.’ You sick kinky bastard."

Hamston paid no attention to his roommate’s mockery. He just grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and his wallet from his desk and ran out the door. He needed to go to the all-night Rite-Aid down the street to get something, anything. He knew the Rite-Aid wasn’t the best place to get a gift, but it would at least look like he tried to get her something and that he didn’t forget..

"Weirdo, what the heck is his problem anyway?"

The door closed at exactly the same moment his clock changed to 3:30. The phone rang.

"What the hell," the football jock said as the phone ringing startled him. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"HAMSTON!!"