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that cemetery to piss on her grave. It would be beer piss too! Sometimes these thoughts caused him guilt, but as time passed, the thoughts increased in frequency and the guilt diminished. As he finished the chore, his eyes fell upon the paper bag on the counter .
    Jimmy picked up the bag with the intention of stashing the movies in a drawer, certain that he wasn’t ready to watch them. But he found himself taking them out of the bag and inspecting each one.
    The covers depicted things that would’ve made his Mama turn over in her grave; the backs had paragraphs describing what each video promised to show him. The language was colorful and foul. Most of the words he didn’t completely understand, but having made it half way through high school, he’d been exposed to enough teenage guy-talk to get the gist of it. He grabbed two more beers, drinking one in a single gulp. Just the thought of actually watching the movies made his hands sweat and his heart race. He felt such a bittersweet mixture of excitement, disgust, embarrassment and arousal.
    As he grabbed another beer and slid the first video into the VCR, his Mama’s voice came again. Jimmy wasn’t crazy. He knew her voice wasn’t real, but she was there none the less, babbling with rage. Oh no you DON’T James Allen DeLeon! My own son, a drunken whoremaster! Not in MY house!
    “Shut up, Mama.” He said, sitting on the worn couch and pressing play.
    His eyes went round and his jaw slack as the images began to grind upon the television screen without any beginning credits. There was no plot whatsoever, no pretense at acting; just raw footage of men and women at their most perverse and primal. Jimmy loved it.
    Two hours and countless beers later, Jimmy was just starting the third video. He had masturbated until he no longer could, the beer and his exertions leaving him weak and tired, but still he watched, his gaze riveted onto the screen. Somewhere in the night, an animal wailed in pain and terror, but he paid it no heed.
    James Allen DeLeon was learning the erotic details of a lesbian relationship, in living color.
    ***
    When Jimmy awoke in the morning, his head was pounding almost as hard as his heart. He had been in the middle of a graphically erotic dream turned nightmare. In his dream, he was one of the guys in the video, doing nasty things to women, but when he looked up, all of them wore his Mama’s face. He sat up fast in bed; his throbbing head making him regret the decision instantly. He felt dirty and hung-over.
    And oddly satisfied.
    After a hot shower and a hearty breakfast of eggs and hash browns, Jimmy began to feel human again. A couple of aspirin washed down with half a gallon of water restored him to his previously joyful mood from the day before.
    I have a date with Charlene tomorrow! He wondered if she had ever done any of the things he had seen on the videos. Just the thought made him blush, but he felt as much excitement as embarrassment. Putting on his cap to shield his thinning hair and scalp from the sun, Jimmy whistled as he headed out back to the garden for his morning chores. He wasn’t surprised to see the mess that waited for him.
    Pile of guts? Yep.
    Larger than yesterday? Sure was.
    He vaguely remembered hearing howling the night before. This time it was a dog, no question about it. A worn collar with no tags lay on the ground beside the innards. He didn’t recognize the thing, but it didn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t have driven the mile to the nearest neighbor’s house just to tell them their dog had been eaten by a hole in his yard. People already thought he was simple. He wasn’t about to make them think he was crazy, too.
    Jimmy didn’t bother handling the guts this time, but he did retrieve the collar and toss it in the garbage can. When he returned and the slimy pile of intestines still lay there, he stomped his foot next to the hole. Sure enough, the guts disappeared in a flash. It left a larger hole behind, and the