"And then Danny said he made him cry." Her child chattered on, and Roxie kept doing the dishes. The kid was smart, but too imaginative sometimes. Like with a new stuffie.
"What did you do then?" Had to at least humor the six-year-old.
"I put Wulfie in with Daddy. But then Danny Lamb wanted to talk to Wulfie, so he went in with him." She slurped at her juice.
Roxie drained the sink, spearing her child with a look. "You didn't wake your father, did you?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, Mooooom. Daddy needs his sleep. Danny figured if Wulfie had to stay quiet, then Wulfie wouldn't yell."
Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, Roxie shook her head. "Where do you come up with this?"
Her child giggled. "It was Danny's idea."
Sighing, Roxie went to check on her husband. A precocious child was normally good, but was sometimes too much. Who knew how many toys and dolls surrounded the sleeping man.
Lying in the middle of the hallway was a stuffed wolf's head, separated from its body.
Frustration rose. The wolf had just been bought, and was already destroyed. Gritting her teeth, Roxie scooped up the remains and noticed her bedroom light was on. Certain her husband had been woken, she stomped into the room.
Danny Lamb sat in the middle of the bed, surrounded by blood and flesh, a tuft of polyfil in his mouth. Roxie screamed and ran.
