Hiram paused on his walker and glared in my direction. His injured hand was swollen and large. He inhaled a shallow breath. He was having trouble and his mouth was working. He said, “Doug, do you think you might grace us tonight with the costumed dance of our ancestors?”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

“I think I speak for all of us when I say that your performance is something we look forward to enjoying on nights like tonight.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Hiram. I think it’s valuable for us, as a family, to have our annual reminder of who we are and where we come from, in a cultural sense. The Corn King is as much a part of our collective history as are, well, these animals that Father shot”—waving my arm at a cheetah and a couple of denuded wildebeests, all hung in a row on the water-stained wall.

Hiram nodded and said, “I couldn’t agree more, Doug. I always look forward to the winter night when you take off your clothes and put on the mask made of wood and hair.”

“Yes.”

“I especially like the chase through the library. What a thrill.”

“It’s always exciting for me, too, Hiram.”

He said, “The late-night cries of strong young men take me back to my own youth. In those days we had pain and lots of it. Where did you get those flowers?”

“William.”

“You should trim their stalks and put them in a vase before they turn brown and die.”

“I was looking for a vase, actually.”

“There’s one somewhere. You’ll find it,” he said as he gripped the walker with his good hand; he heaved himself up, scooted the walker forward on the floor, took another labored step (onto the edge of the carpet with its knotted fringe that caught and became tangled as the walker’s legs scraped past) in the direction of the oak table. He said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. I could eat a side of beef if I had my original teeth. Remember always to care for your teeth, Doug.”

“I will.”

“Do you floss? Flossing is more important than brushing, I can tell you. Too much vigorous brushing as a young man was my downfall. You scrub away the gums and before you know it the roots of your teeth are exposed to the elements and it murders you to chew, and then one after another you lose your teeth like you lose everything in life.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Your teeth are your greatest possession. You probably think your greatest possession is your Johnson. But it’s not your johnson, it’s your teeth, especially your two front teeth.”

“Hmn.”

“These right here,” he said, opening his mouth wide to insert fingers. He touched the teeth in question, the upper incisors; he pointed these out, and when he did, when he touched these dentures, they moved. They were loose in his mouth, insecurely fastened and slipping off the gum. The effect was grotesque: Hiram’s teeth hanging at an angle, wobbling in his mouth, licked by Hiram’s tongue and about to fall out, as he commanded, “Stow those flowers in a vase before the petals fall off.”