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Church
strikes
again
,
Louis
thought
a
little
sickly
,
and
turned
his
head
--
not
however
,
before
he
had
seen
the
bloody
,
gaping
socket
where
the
crow
's
eye
had
been
.
Should
n't
bother
me
,
should
n't
,
I
've
seen
worse
,
oh
yeah
,
Pascow
,
for
instance
,
Pascow
was
worse
,
a
lot
worse
--
But
it
did
bother
him
.
His
stomach
turned
over
.
The
warm
build
of
sexual
excitement
had
suddenly
deflated
.
Christ
,
that
bird
's
damn
near
as
big
as
he
is
.
Must
have
caught
it
with
its
guard
down
.
Way
,
way
down
.
This
would
have
to
be
cleaned
up
.
Nobody
needed
this
sort
of
present
on
Christmas
morning
.
And
it
was
his
responsibility
,
was
n't
it
?
Sure
was
.
His
and
nobody
else
's
.
He
had
recognized
that
much
in
a
subconscious
way
even
on
the
evening
of
his
family
's
return
,
when
he
had
purposely
spilled
the
tires
over
the
tattered
body
of
the
mouse
Church
had
killed
.
The
soil
of
a
man
's
heart
is
stonier
,
Louis
.
This
thought
was
so
clear
,
somehow
so
three-dimensional
and
auditory
,
that
Louis
jerked
a
little
,
as
if
Jud
had
materialized
at
his
shoulder
and
spoken
aloud
.
A
man
grows
what
he
can
...
and
tends
it
.
Church
was
still
hunched
greedily
over
the
dead
bird
.
He
was
working
at
the
other
wing
now
.
There
was
a
tenebrous
rustling
sound
as
Church
pulled
it
back
and
forth
,
back
and
forth
.
Never
get
it
off
the
ground
,
Orville
.
That
's
right
,
Wilbur
,
fucking
bird
's
just
as
dead
as
dogshit
,
might
as
well
feed
it
to
the
cat
,
might
as
well
--
Louis
suddenly
kicked
Church
,
kicked
him
hard
.
The
cat
's
hindquarters
rose
and
came
down
splayfooted
.
It
walked
away
,
sparing
him
another
of
its
ugly
yellow-green
glances
.
"
Eat
me
,
"
Louis
hissed
at
it
,
catlike
himself
.
"
Louis
?
"
Rachel
's
voice
came
faintly
from
their
bedroom
.
"
Coming
to
bed
?
"
