This Sunday, Kyle, Michael and I were enjoying a little late morning brunch at the lovely Le Petit Cafe and some light banter about polymorphic lambda calculi. Patrick would occasionally swing with his strange stories, narrated with his uniquely French mannerism. Joie de vivre!

Thus passed a nice Sunday morning when I see a little girl walk up to me. She is short, about 3 foot tall, not quiet opaque and is wearing a bright red cape and hood. She stands by my side, next to our table, and listens to us for a bit. Kyle and Michael were chatting about Kinds and Sorts. Then she says to me "What strange conversations you have Grandma". I say, "The better to understand them with, my dear". I expect her to scamper away, doing whatever it is that she needs to do, but instead she stands there, her large luminous eyes locked in mine. All this starts to get very irritating and I'd wish she would just buzz off when Kyle asks me something. I turn to reply mumbling that maybe I should eat her or something, that way she'd go away. Kyle asks me what I mean. I explain. The two of them suddenly get unnecessarily excited. "You hold him down. I will run for help". Groan...

Thinking back about it, I wonder if the wolf ate her simply because she was so annoying. After all, ignoring rumors, he was trying to get some sleep and there comes this pest asking all these inane questions.