So Andy and I held Jones down, who used to be my friend, but was now only a very loud piece of meat. Victor cut. Jones confessed, told us the whole ugly story, as if that would make Victor stop slicing. It didn’t. Jones screamed. Blood shouted Victor’s revenge until we were left with a thing no longer recognizable as human.

We gathered the pieces up in the sheet and took them to old Stratsford Cemetery. There we buried the son of a bitch. Won’t bring Nancy back, but it sure as hell felt good.

Jones got what he deserved. It don’t do to mess with Victor’s kin.