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OTHER ITA SITES:
Hi! I'm a Happy Axe Murderer!
The shriek was one of complete, conscious fear. Their parents raced to the room. Matthew stood over his quivering, prostrate sister, plastic axe in hand, beaming.
Matthew�s father boomed, �WHAT HAPPENED HERE?�
His sister choked out the words between sobs, �He, he hit me with his axe.�
Matthew�s mother checked her darling daughter for gashes and contusions.
�She�s okay,� she assured everyone, �just shaken.� A cuddle, a kiss away of tears, and the six year-old sidled to her bedroom to avoid the inevitably loud reprimand.
�MATTHEW,� boomed his father, �WE-DO-NOT-HIT-PEOPLE-WITH-AXES!�
�No hit people with axe?� Matthew queried.
�No, we do not hit people with axes.�
�Okay, hit couch with axe?� He looked hopefully at his father.
His father sighed. �Yes, you can hit the couch with the axe.�
�Matthew fire-fighter,� he said as he repeatedly walloped the couch.
Matthew�s mother feared for the integrity of her sofa�s fabric. �Come here Matthew,� she said. He did, axe in his left hand. She lifted him onto her lap, took his right hand, moved it softly over her hair. �This,� she said, �this is how people liked to be touched.�
�Pat people, mama?�
�Yes, pat people.�
�And cuddle people?�
His mother smiled. He was learning. Realistically, juvenile detention could be ten years away but he was capable of learning. They wouldn�t have to worry about defence lawyers� fees eating into their non-existent retirement fund. She pulled him to her chest, �Yes, cuddle people.�
Matthew drew back, smiled, raised the axe in his left hand, �Then hit people with axe, mama?�
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