First two beginning paragraphs of scene from final story
My Great Grandmother, G.G., loved both my younger brother of nine, and myself-eleven, yet she showed her love with blazing eyes and white knuckles as she scrubbed our heads back and forth when we sinned a little. Her dresses were all black as a raven as was her straw hat that rested weightlessly upon her head. It moved with the winds, but never flew off. We didn't need a baby-sitter, but G.G. with her beady all seeing eyes insisted on watching us when mom went out, and she, on mom's return, would sidle up to her and, with her lipstick free lips, whisper in mom's ear about anything she considered we did bad.
One day, mom attended a mandatory meeting with Bob's and my principal at Sheridan Elementary. The principal had been informed that it was the two of us, Bob and I, that put a stink bomb that smelled like rotten eggs in the teachers lounge. On mom's return, G.G. whined and whimpered like a lost puppy in mom's ear about our poor behavior.
New opening paragraphs.
"No, no please no dad. We won't do it again," Dad knuckled Bob and my heads because of the fink, our Great Grandmother as old fashioned in appearance as her mother, who had barely graduated from wearing whale bone hoop dresses.
The knuckled heads wasn't just due to Grandmother reporting that we blasted music on our stereo, but some other fink, at school, squealed to our principal that Bob and I put stink beans into the teacher's lounge.
Mom returned from a meeting with our principal, "The boys did what?"