Grimace Street was awash with excitement as it was that time of the year when Miss Marble held her grartor party.
It was an event she held every two years, and this year it promised to be as good a party as ever.
The point of the grartor party was to bring the street together and celebrate everything that was Grimace Street. After all, not every street had a witch living in it as Grimace Street did with Miss Marble at No 46.
Every resident in the street was invited and expected to attend. The GRARTOR was a potion Miss Marble prepared and one which every resident looked forward to.
Once they were all congregated in the street, Miss Marble brought out the grartor, and each person took the small vial offered them and drank it.
The effect was very individual. This was so because the potion acted on what was each person’s thing for having fun. Some danced, some sang, some sat and chatted, some went out of their way to be nice to neighbours they might normally to pleasant too.
While this was happening Miss Marble provided an assortment of foods, from Marble sandwiches to Marble cakes each designed to enhance whatever experience a person was having.
She was particularly pleased to see Barney Plunkett and Myrtle Overson sharing a cake or two. In normal times Barney and Myrtle were residents but very shy each preferring to live their own separate and lonely lives. A dose of grartor and the two were inseparable. It became known at grartor time that Barney and Myrtle would be shown to one of the tents Miss Marble erected in her front garden for such eventualities.
They weren’t the only ones as there were several couples who engaged in a little swinging and as far as Miss Marble was concerned if they were hurting anyone then the point of the grartor was being met.
As for Miss Marble, she retired to her front veranda and there with her faithful hound Sal by her feet watched the goings on waiting for the sun to set so she could fill the sky with fireworks which was her thing at grartor party time. She had a love of fireworks and usually put on a spectacular show for one and all.
At the end of the night her neighbour and friend Mansur Stigglefod would join her on the veranda and the two women, both aging gracefully would watch over the street as the effects of the grartor wore off, and people realised the party was coming to a halt. The tent occupants would re-enter the street, by now looking pleased and at the same time a tad sheepish wondering who might have noticed them coming out with their clothing slightly dishevelled but with an uncharacteristic spring in their step.
As the last resident retired to their respective homes, Miss Marble would wave her hand over the street, and everything would return to normal.
Mansur would rise from her seat and wish Miss Marble goodnight as she’d traipse down Miss Marble’s front steps, wondering if she’d be around for the next one in two years.