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Show 64 seen him grab the kids and shake them. Or swat them on the back of the head-too hard-when they were misbehaving. He always waited too long, until he was angry. So that the kids did not know until it was too late. One night Marty, the youngest, did not go to bed after Jeanne- the oldest daughter-hollered at him a half dozen times. It had been raining all day, so he had been in the house, and was not worn out. From room to room, upstairs and downstairs, he ran, shooting off his cap pistol. Bang, bang-he hollered with each snap of the pistol's hammer- bang, bang! Snap, snap. Usually Sharon put him down. But it was Saturday night, she was getting ready for Roger to pick her up. She was late, or she would have chased him down herself. Earlier, Jeanne, who was only eleven, but responsible for her age, had agreed to see to the kids that night. Bang, bang-snap, snap! Bang, bang! But Jeanne needed help. It was not going to work out after all. It was not Jeanne's fault, she had tried. Sharon finished laying out her underwear on the bed and slipped on a robe. Suddenly there was a scream. A long terrified scream, and footsteps pounding of the stairs. She opened the door as Marty burst in, throwing his arms around her legs. Downstairs, the front door slammed. "What is it?" Tightly he clung to her, shaking, his whole body trembling as he screamed-a piercing high-pitched scream: emptying his whole existence into it. Then she saw: a patch of hair was missing from the back of his |