The Wintergrass Family

*Borus' Point of View

I strolled into Mama's bedroom, noticing the shotgun sitting on the bedside table. Curled up into a rather small ball, was my brother Walter, gasping for air as he giggled
to himself with pleasure. Mama had called me, complaining about her spilled pancake mix and something about Walt having an issue. No pancake mix. Just him, in pain.

My knees gave out as I felt my hoarse, old man's chuckle coming on. Quickly, I flopped to my stumach and started flailing my fragile lims. It was pretty out of character
for me to be bahaving so childish. But there was no way to keep myself together. The gun, the broken dry wall, and all the agony was just too much for me to put up
with. After a good five minutes of throwing a fit on the floor, along side my brother, Mama came in and kicked me in the ribs.

"Get up! I said get up! Come clean up this mess you lead into my candy shop!" She yelled with her croaky, old voice. With her pointy fingers, she grabbed my wrinkled ear
and led me to the door. Letting go, she pointed to the bare carpet.

"Look at this! Did you drag squirel feces into my imporiam?! When the kids bend down to lick the lollipop floor, they will catch the cow fever! I'll be out of business and
won't be able to feed the orphans!" Ignoring my mother's concerns and went to the cheap freezer and picked out a frozen steak. I tossed it to my sibling, instructing
him to put it on his head.

"I love my steak raw! You can taste all the protein filled bacteria! Aha!" Walter unwrapped the meat and knawed on the rock-hard chunk of meat.

Oh Walter, he never seems to suprise me.