Crossing the streams.

Despite all appearances, there's a kernel of guile rattling around in my grandmother's head. With it, she managed to procure and use my cousin's cell phone number with none of us knowing. The two have met a handful of times over the years, and it seems that this past Christmas an unnatural alliance was formed. I cannot guess as to what they discussed--the addled old bag and the self-involved shot-girl-turned-realtor--but somewhere galaxies are collapsing, matrices are crumbling, and wise men are going mad.