Holes In Her Argyles, Stoned On Redeye Gravy

Granny is a moderator at the nursing home for Old Drag Queens. Today, was their Daytona. Wheelchair racing, down the aisle. She screamed, "Start your garters!"...so they did. Uncle Grandpop-ma won. I think Prune Juice cocktail's enemy gave him added energy.    
   
Fast forward.  
 
On the Sunday morning sidewalk chewing wafers and getting stoned, listening to the Big Man calling, naked without a leotard. Granny was plump dab naked in her birthday suit doing The Funky Chicken (Thanksgiving turkey) on the Astroturf in front of the Firehouse and Dollar Store. Burning holes in her argyle socks. She was stoned on redeye gravy.    
 
I was passing out Cheetos as the crowd tithed. It ain't easy to dance to the music of Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, "Foggy Mountain Breaking." She was kicking and the turkey was picking gravel off the Astroturf, mostly Cheetos, scratching in a pair of clogging shoes. Flapping  its wings, popping a wheelie. Having the audacity to lay a frgging egg on the Astroturf's 20-yard line, trying for a field goal as granny dipped in her Copenhagen Snuff.  
 
Last week, it was the Hokey Pokey. The Deacon put a citizen's arrest on her for Hokein' over a speed bump. She was dancing in a Gumby suit and the Deacon accused her of plagiarizing a satire as an old dog (grandpa) hiked a leg over the BBQ pit.  At the same time, the Highschool Marching Band, 2 glockenspiels, were high-stepping down Skeeter Davis avenue avoiding Apple Annie (the Grand Marshal) who was shoplifting cabbage from a cart cattywampus to a nonpracticing exiled swami from Tennessee. He was caught with his britches down, finetuning a Braunschweiger on a Monday morning sidewalk.