blue eyes and pearly whites one minute, and then kill a fellow classmate the next in order to get a penmanship medal she felt she deserved.
“The loving mother begins to suspect something is wrong with her child, and fears she may have inherited her nasty old grandmother’s evil genes. You see, Arty, it turns out that grandma was quite the notorious serial killer in her day, and poor old loving mom fears that her innocent little daughter might have inherited those awful, awful genes.” Patrick smiled. “Do you see where I’m heading with this, Arthur?”
Arty said, “Shut up.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t know about this classic, Arty, what with all your ‘research’ and all. I would have told you about it before, but I didn’t have much of a chance.” He turned to Amy. “Why is that you think, baby?”
Amy scratched her head, her eyebrows scrunched, lips pursed. Then everything popped, and her eyes were bright and wide, her mouth an O. “You were being gagged and tortured at the time, honey. You couldn’t have!”
Patrick slapped his forehead. “That’s right. Why didn’t you tell him about it then, baby?”
Amy gave her husband a silly look and sang, “Honey...I was being gagged and tortured too.”
Patrick slapped his forehead again. “Duh!”
Arty yelled, “Shut up!”
“You remember your little spiel about Serial Killer Stanley?” Patrick said. “That’s what you called him, right? Stanley?” He looked to Amy again.
“Yeah, I think that was it,” Amy said. “Although I kind of liked The Three Stooges reference better. Found it more amusing.”
“Yeah, I did too. I like the Stooges. Again, I would have told you and your brother that, but…” Patrick wrapped an imaginary gag around his mouth and head, made his lips disappear, then splayed his hands with a helpless shrug.
Amy laughed.
“Henry, I want these fucks out of here now. I have rights; this is beyond fucking absurd.”
Detective Henry pretended to look out the window. Patrick was sure he saw him smirking.
“Let’s not get off track,” Patrick continued. “It’s contagious, this lecturing stuff. I can see why you and Jim felt the need to bore us for so long with how cool you thought you were.”
“Henry!”
Patrick continued. “Sorry, sorry…let’s get back to our buddy Stanley. So! Arty…you said Serial Killer Stanley was a serial killer because he came from a long line of serial killers, yes? Those were your words, if I’m not mistaken.” Patrick’s haughty delivery was the equal of a prosecutor to an ignorant defendant.
“Shut the fuck up!”
“Did you know The Bad Seed was based on a true story? That there really was a serial killer grandma that had an eight-year-old, serial killer granddaughter?”
This was a lie, but Patrick hardly cared. He was having too much fun. “I guess the point I’m trying to make here, Arthur, is that in this case—in your case—it looks like heredity was the winner. Hey, you know what I just thought? What if your real father’s name was actually Stanley? How fucking funny would that be?”
Amy laughed again.
“So you know what I’m thinking here, Arty?” Patrick said. “I think—no—I bet. I bet my newly saved life that your biological parents, the real people responsible for bringing you into this world, were just as sick and fucked up as you and your brother are.” Patrick quickly corrected himself, “Oh, sorry…as you are. Guess I’d have to say were if I’m talking about Jim, yeah?”
Arty finally spoke in a tone below a shout, though it clearly held no guarantees it would remain as such; his face was near purple with rage, veins bulged his neck and forehead, looking as if they might split the skin. “You don’t know that. You don’t know that for sure.”
Amy shrugged. “You’re right. Nobody does—including you. We might be able to find out though. Do some digging maybe? If we really tried I’m sure we could come up with something.” She looked at Detective Henry. He raised both eyebrows and nodded in agreement. Amy continued.
“But I don’t think you want us to do that, do you, Arty? In fact, I don’t think we would want to do it either. I think it’s best if we just let it fester inside that rotted head of yours. Because deep down I think you know the truth. We all know the truth. And if you’ll forgive the pun…that seed we just planted? That seed that’s gonna keep on growing and growing…? That’s enough for us. That seed will put a smile on the face of my husband and I