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to make the grave.
    Time was precious so he went in and cleaned up. He grabbed a towel and went to Angie’s room. Grabbing both her arms, he pulled her back a few feet–the puddle had soaked into the carpet, leaving a dark stain. He carefully sopped it up and threw the towel in her closet.
    As he dragged her through the living room, he considered an idea. It was the best idea he had ever had. If Mother had liked the nasty, she would have been proud of his idea.
    He dropped Angie’s arms and went back to his room. It pained him to look at Peg’s wasted body; the gash in her chest seemed bigger and painful. But she was old, he thought. Maybe it was best she had died.
    Teddy tossed the knife and carried the rubber doll’s limp torso through the kitchen into the back yard. “I’m sorry Peg,” he told her painted face. He wouldn’t bury her just yet—first he wanted to try out his idea. If it worked, then he would cover her up.
    It was almost time, he would have to hurry. Back in his sister’s room, he took off his jeans and knelt beside the corpse. The smell of death was pungent and sickening, but life was too frightening for him to handle. He was more of a watcher. But it was too late for watching and she would be perfect. He could hide her. Just like Peg.
    As Teddy mounted his sister in a fumbling, incestuous act of necrophilia, Mother’s car pulled into the cracked driveway. She saw through the grimy windshield the rotting bags of trash piled among the weeds near the porch. That damnable Teddy. Just like his father.
    Merely four strokes within her, Teddy finished shamefully; he 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?
    â€œTeddy, 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–
    â€œTeddy.”
    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.
    â€œTeddy, why didn’t you take out the garbage?”
    â€œHuh?” He was confused by her displaced question, her banal motherliness.
    â€œOh, never mind.” She poked her cane at Angie with simple curiosity. “Put on your drawers.”
    â€œMother, it wasn’t my fault, she killed–” He quickly shut his mouth–Mother couldn’t know about Peg. She hated Peg.
    â€œShe’s dead, huh?”
    â€œMother, I didn’t mean to kill her.” That was a lie.
    â€œYou were watching her again,” Mother beamed.
    â€œNo Mother. I never ever watched her. I promise I didn’t.”
    â€œYou did. She tells me.”
    â€œNo Mother.” That bitch, she had told. He wished he could kill her again; she suffered too little.
    â€œI 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.
    â€œBad boys have to be punished. That’s how we keep a family together.”
    Sharply, and with surprising force, she