Mommy, May I? by A. K. Alexander

anything associated with him. Richard also knew the old bitch would never leave because of her screwed-up religion. Richard, however, knew there was more to it than what her good book of faith taught her. He had a strong feeling that money was involved, and if his intuition was correct, it was quite a bit. He figured that was why Uncle James never left. Secrets, lies, and blackmail—ah, such a tangled web.
    He walked deep into the woods where it looked eerily dark, and the only sounds were the buzzing, howling, and hooting of the forest creatures. It was exactly how he liked it. He hugged his jacket tight around him. Reaching his makeshift shack, he went inside. It was a small fort built with wood and stones, but it served its purpose. He took the cold metal key from his pocket and opened the good-size locker he kept there—for his collection.
    He swung open the door, and the formaldehyde passed through his nostrils heading straight to his brain. This place was good. The jars and canisters held the fruits of his labors.
    On the first shelf there were mice, rats, rabbits, and all sorts of rodents. Richard had chosen them to learn on. After that, he’d advanced to killing and embalming cats and dogs. Now he’d moved up to larger game—deer and sheep. There were times when he would bring an animal here after trapping them and drain their fluids while still alive. The way the little beast struggled and bellowed was always interesting. Richard would sit and watch the life drain from them, only to fill them back up.
    He’d created a smaller version of the mortuary’s embalming station in his fort, with intravenous tubes and supplies that he’d stolen from his uncle. The small pump he used for the fluids wasn’t as elaborate as the one at the funeral home, but it worked.
    Today, he would not have time to hunt, except for the freaking turkey the bitch wanted him to get. But what fun would that be? He couldn’t add it to his collection. It would be great, though, if he could. How nice to add Aunt Valerie’s prize turkey, then tell her that it must’ve escaped.
    He laughed looking at Whiskers—Aunt Valerie’s cat—its eyes all bugged out, only the whites showing. Whiskers had been quite a treat. He’d screamed for mercy with his annoying howl, but hadn’t gotten any. Maybe for Christmas he should tell her he’d found Whiskers and give her the gift of a lifetime. Wouldn’t that be a riot! “Hey there, kitty kitty, how you doing? Love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a turkey to get. No more turkey for you, I guess. Huh, kitty kitty?”
    He could smell the apple pie as he approached the house. At least she could cook—Aunt Valerie’s only redeeming quality.
    The years had been hard on Uncle James. He’d had heart problems recently, which Richard attributed to the bitch in the kitchen. Today, she’d sent James to the market and Richard outside to catch the turkey so that she could come out and chop its ridiculous head off.
    “Richard,” she screamed. “Where have you been?” Richard didn’t respond. “Richard! I’ve been waiting and waiting. I've asked you to do this for me all morning. But I should know better. You’re as rotten as your uncle and that mother of yours.”
    Richard put his hands inside his jacket. His body shook. He was so damned tired of her beating him down. She only hated his mother because Elizabeth had been beautiful and sweet. He stared down at the ground, refusing to even acknowledge her.
    “What in the world? My God, do I have to do everything?” She came storming out the front door, her fat ass trailing behind.
    God, how did Uncle James stand it?
    “You are so incompetent! That’s what happens, I suppose, when your mother’s a no-good whore and you’re a bastard.”
    “I’m not a bastard,” he said quietly, raising his eyes before lifting his head. He glared at her.
    “Oh, yeah, I forgot. You’re the son of the legendary Mills Florence. Richard, for God’s sakes, your