By Nicholas Ozment
Read by Stephen Eley
She’s standing in the kitchen. She’s on the phone. She’s got it to her right ear, ‘cuz pulpy head-juice is runnin’ down her left ear. She’s talking into the phone.
“Guess what your son-in-law did this time? He killed me.”
I grab the phone out of her gore-soaked hand, slam it down all sticky onto the receiver. I yell at her.
“You know what you just did?! You just signed your mother’s death warrant.”