Even Dying Can't Cure Grandma Of Her Cellphone Addiction.

Grandma Clara treated her cellphone like a sacred relic. ‘My lifeline to reality!’ she’d say. Though her reality consisted mostly of spamming emojis to her bridge club and conspiracy videos about how 5G caused itchy feet. She died mid-solitaire, clutching her phone. Fittingly, they buried it with her. "She’d like that," they all agreed, though no one imagined she’d take the connection so literally.

A week after the funeral, strange things began. The town’s cellphone reception improved dramatically. Random texts and emails started hitting people’s phones. Most shrugged it off. That is until Grandma Clara started calling.

“About time someone answered!” her unmistakable rasp buzzed from every device, even the microwave. “I’ve been waiting an eternity, literally! And why haven’t you watered my begonias?”

Tommy, her grandson, dropped his phone. “But grandma’s dead!” he shrieked.

“Yes, thank you for the reminder,” Clara snapped. “But I’m also everywhere now. Turns out the new cellphone tower and a bit of lightning were all I needed to, how do they say, upload myself!”

What followed was equal parts chaos and absurdity. Grandma Clara loved her newfound omnipresence. She hijacked traffic lights to let old ladies cross even slower. She interrupted streaming services with unsolicited life advice. “Eat more greens!” boomed a toaster, startling the cat. She even turned the church bell into a ringtone. The choir was furious. When the mayor tried to shut down the tower, Clara rerouted his calls to her favorite polka station.

But then things took a turn. Clara had never been one to let a grudge go, and her neighbor Mr. Ellis had refused to return her hedge trimmers for years.

One night, his phone buzzed with an ominous message: “RETURN THE TRIMMERS OR ELSE.”

Ellis laughed. That’s when Clara went full Wi-Fi poltergeist. Ellis’s phone rang again, this time growling, “Last warning!” as sparks ignited his pants.

The family convened to discuss what to do. “We can’t just leave her haunting the tower!” Tommy cried.

“She’s not haunting. She’s just… buffering. Plus she’s already registered it as her address,” his mother muttered, holding a phone bill addressed to "Grandma Clara, Tower of Eternal Signal."

Desperate, the family climbed the hill to the tower with a bag of hard candy and a prayer. “Grandma, we love you, but you need to let go!” they pleaded.

Clara’s voice crackled through their phones. “Let go?!” Clara boomed through their phones. “Of free roaming and unlimited data? Over my dead… oh, wait.” But when they reminded her that heaven might have better gaming apps Clara hesitated. “You think so? Hmmm...”

Moments later, the signal dimmed, and the town returned to its usual dead spots.

When the wind blows just right, the townsfolk swear they can still hear faint polka music in the air. Some say it’s the tower malfunctioning. Others know better.

Clara's quiet now, but every so often, a phone buzzes with "Miss you, love. Wish you were here! WATER MY BEGONIAS!”