It scared me; but the wop was already hitting out the other big pieces with the flat of his hand. He vaulted up and through. Hogg pushed me up next—the television overturned, and I heard more crashing glass (the tube) and crackling. Then Hogg, the nigger, and Denny came in.

The woman stood up, but didn’t know what to do next.

The man was about to stand. His eyes went back and forth between us and his wife.

Hogg’s boot hit the chessboard; chess pieces rolled between pieces of glass. The kid, holding his hand over his face—I think he’d been cut—scooted backwards across the floor.

“What the—” The man lunged. I guess that’s what he thought he was supposed to do.

Hogg hit him in the face.

The man staggered back.

Hogg followed and hit him again—in the stomach.

The man sat down in the easy chair, blinking and gasping.

Something hit Hogg’s shoulder and spun off. It was the paperback book. The woman had thrown it hard as she could. Hogg just flinched his arm a little and didn’t even look. She was looking, for something else to throw.

“… motherfucker,” Hogg grunted. He locked both fists together and brought them up against the man’s chin. The head jerked. Both the man’s hands bounced on the chair arms. He slumped to the side; a dribble of blood came out his ear and wormed down his jaw across his neck. “Shit.” Hogg grunted again. “Can’t bust a son of a bitch like that hard enough the first time—” Fists still locked—there was blood on his knuckles—he jerked them up again.

The woman screamed—I turned—and swung the lamp down at the wop’s head; she got his shoulder.

The bulb went out; the glass base shattered and the shade rolled on the floor. The wop put his hand up to his face, took his hand away from his cheek. He had blood on his hands too. He smiled. “You cut me, lady.…” He licked his bloody palm. “You cut me, lady, and I’m gonna cut you now.” His other hand brought the knife out of his pocket. “I’m gonna cut a hole in your belly and fuck it, lady. I’m gonna cut your leg up like a Virginia ham and fry the slices for lunch. I’m gonna hack out a piece of your gut, poke out the shit, and wear it for a ring.…”

“… Jesus Christ,” the woman whispered, and got back behind the sofa. “Oh, my God.…” She was still looking.