Like the Valades, I imagine. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. If he decided to watch television upstairs with his mother, she would probably retire before he did, but she was a light sleeper. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. Stanley, “Mr.
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