Blue Rose

I wonder, Little Eddie, hypnotized, can it be true you felt no pain at all? Ten years of age, a figure formed too small, and that poor Roadster, a gift you so prized… How could your brother have so despised your car? to pop its tires,—and on the wall— smash it, scratch it, do everything to maul that toy.—Is it true, you weren’t agonized? Though Harry promised hypnotism,?he quickly realized, putting you in trances, that he could trash you—as he had your car. and soon, he stuck mom’s hat pin way too far.— To cover up his tracks, he took his chances— his lie: epileptic paroxysm. (to Peter Straub)