stayed inside for a few moments–he liked the slimy grip on his flesh. He was embarrassed, but he liked the nasty stuff so much. Why couldn’t Mother understand his needs?
“Teddy, didn’t I tell you to take out the trash?” she hollered as the front door opened, slamming into the wall. She grimaced as a rat scuttled from somewhere to anywhere. A catalog of punishments befuddled her mind as she crossed the living room.
Teddy froze. How could he explain this to Mother? He would have to hide Angie; if Mother saw what–
“Teddy.”
As Mother hobbled into the hall, he looked up from his disgraceful position.
She stood above him, ancient and leviathan from his angle. Her cane loomed over him like a tree trunk.
Teddy’s frozen panic melted and he leapt up and hurriedly cupped his naughty parts, hiding them from Mother.
“Teddy, why didn’t you take out the garbage?”
“Huh?” He was confused by her displaced question, her banal motherliness.
“Oh, never mind.” She poked her cane at Angie with simple curiosity. “Put on your drawers.”
“Mother, it wasn’t my fault, she killed–” He quickly shut his mouth–Mother couldn’t know about Peg. She hated Peg.
“She’s dead, huh?”
“Mother, I didn’t mean to kill her.” That was a lie.
“You were watching her again,” Mother beamed.
“No Mother. I never ever watched her. I promise I didn’t.”
“You did. She tells me.”
“No Mother.” That bitch, she had told. He wished he could kill her again; she suffered too little.
“I told you not to do the nasty. And now I catch you doin’ it on your sister. What can I do with such a disrespectful boy?
Her rhetoric frightened him. What if she took away the television? What if she made him take those pills again—what had she called them? Saltpeter? He could fix that though. He was good at hiding them under his tongue and then throwing them out his window.
Although Teddy was taller than Mother, she overwhelmed him with her presence. She stepped over Angie and raised her cane to his head; she was varicose in her elegance.
“Bad boys have to be punished. That’s how we keep a family together.”
Sharply, and with surprising force, she bludgeoned his head repeatedly until he collapsed, limp and denigrated on the carpet.
When Teddy awoke, he winced at the tugging pain at his eyelids—they wouldn’t open no matter how hard he strained. Atop his naked groin he felt the cold security of Peg, and beneath him the gritty soil. Damn Mother and her sewing. He touched his eyelids and knew he would find the tiny knotted stitches binding his vision.
“Teddy,” she called from above. “You’ve been a bad boy. You won’t be looking at Angie anymore though, I’ve seen to that. Just like your father you are. I had to teach him a lesson too.”
He heard an earthy scrape from above and pleaded for forgiveness. “Mother please, I didn’t mean to look. I’m sorry. Please, Mother–”
A scoop of dirt landed on his face, covering his nose and mouth; his arms were squeezed too tightly into the grave to protest.
“Got to keep the family together.”
Mother continued to fill in the grave as Teddy struggled to free himself; he wanted to spit but his mouthful of dirt prohibited any such action. Above, Mother babbled about discipline and Teddy’s punishment led to suffocation as his eyes seeped tears of blood.
March 15, 1988
Night Terrors Magazine
1007 Union Street
Schenectady, NY 12308
Brian Warner
3450 Banks Rd. #207
Margate, FL 33063
Hey Brian,
Thank you for “All in the Family.” I like the idea, but I prefer something a little more involved. However, you write very well and very convincingly, and I’m anxious to see another submission from you. But, Brian, I would first urge you to acquaint yourself with the unique type of fiction we publish by purchasing a subscription to NT . I can send you the next four issues for only $12 for
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