Green Juju Horace answered the bell. It was just Kyle and his dumb sister Juju, so he turned his back and returned to his model, leaving the door open behind him. "Watcha doin'?" he heard Juju ask when they finally found him fixed at his hobby table in the living room. Horace shot a look at Kyle. He shrunk. Kyle always shrunk from a challenge- that was why Horace wanted him around. "What's this?" Horace said sharply at Juju, pointing to his work in progress. "Model plane," Juju said. "What am I doing?" "Gluin' it." "Then that's what I'm doing." "I can help?" Horace chortled. "No," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The small girl deflated a little. Kyle took her hand. "C'mon, Ju. We'll watch your tape." Horace gave the look again. "You're not playing no girly cartoon tape in my living room, cowlick." Kyle waved the tape from his backpack. "No, it's kinda cool, Hor. My dad got some old black-and-whites from the anime convention from like the thirties? Real violent. You'd be surprised." Horace put the glue down a moment. Kyle was messed up, but he did have a cool dad who was into anime. It might be worth a look, and if it wasn't, he could take it out on cowlick. No-lose shit-uation. "Whatever," he said, waving in the direction of the VCR. Kyle popped it in. Horace regretted it immediately. It was a collection of lame Betty Boop cartoons. "Fuck it, cowlick! You said this was cool!" "No-no Hor!" Kyle said with his heart in his throat. "No, it gets better! Just after this cartoon!" "F-F!" Juju said, jumping up and down to cheer the fast forwarding. "F-F!" "Yeah, yeah, F-F you, jumping bean," Horace said, grabbing the remote and fast forwarding. He pressed play, and recognized the ship's deck and sliding doors just a second before Juju started bouncing again, and singing. "He's Popeye the Sailor Man!" she sang, loudly and badly. Horace threw a pillow at her. "Put a muzzle on it, bean! Or I'll turn it off!" "No!" Juju stomped. "Then put your mittens in your mouth and calm down!" Kyle, uneasy, edged forward. "Look, Hor, it's OK, she'll be quiet." "You're mean!" Juju said, staring directly at Horace. Horace laughed. "Damn straight. I'm mean." He stood up, deliberately, letting his six-foot, 200 pound frame tower over the little eight-year-old girl. "I'm big. and I'm mean. So what?" "So!" Juju clenched her fists, angry. "So my brother'll sock you out if you don't apologize and be nice to me!" Horace laughed. He looked at Kyle, the fifth-grader running to hush his loud-mouthed sister up. Kyle was scrawny, short- a threat to "sock" not even a sock puppet. Juju looked at Horace's sneer, and got angrier. "He'd- he'd- he'd just EAT HIS SPINACH and he'd clock you like a candlestick!" "Juju!" a very anxious Kyle shook his sister. "You are going home right now, you hear me?" This was great. The bean loved her cowlick so much, and the cowlick loved her, too- but not enough to get killed over it. Hmmmm. A wonderfully grinchy idea curled the edges of Horace's lips. He stepped over to Kyle, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Now wait a minute, Kyle,' he said in his friendliest voice. "I didn't mean to be so rude to Juju here. Maybe she's right. Maybe you should teach me a lesson." Kyle probably dumped a load right there. Keep a straight face, Horace warned himself. "Let's go into the kitchen, get you some spinach, then we'll go in the basement and you can teach me some manners!" Horace waited for a big gulp to go down Kyle's thraot, then gave him a sly wink out of Juju's sight. This disarmed Kyle enough for Horace to lead him to the kitchen. "Pretend," Horace whispered from the side of his mouth. "Huh?" "Fake it!" Horace whispered more harshly. "Eat the spinach, whack me around a little, and I'll pretend you lay me out! Then I'll apologize 'cause I'm scared of ya, see?" "B-b-but-" "Oh, c'mon, cowlick! I'm trying to make your little sister proud of you. Don't screw it up." Horace jerked away as Juju came in the kitchen. "OK, first we need some spinach." "A can!" Juju said, opening a lower cabinet and sticking her head in. "A BIG can!" Kyle pulled his sister out as Horace opened the freezer. "Only frozen, bean," he said, pulling a green cardboard block and tossing it on the counter. It bounced like a glass brick on the formica. Juju eyed it suspiciously. "More!" she pouted. "He needs more." "Juju!" "You want more?" Horace flung two more boxes out. "You got more. That's a full pound, more than Popeye ever ate. Okay?" Horace popped the boxes in the microwave, punched a few buttons and started. A rattling hum rolled from the machine, and ever so slowly, the spinach turned on the carousel. "C'mon," Horace said, "it'll cook. To the basement. Where the REAL fun starts!" Juju scampered down first, even before Horace switched the light. "Wowie, Kyle!" she said, "Lookit!" Kyle had never been in Horace's basement before. He remembered Horace mentioned once how his dad had converted it to a gym, but he'd thought it would be something- what? Dingier? Rustier? Cheaper? Horace removed his shirt and grabbed a curl bar. "Ready for my warm-up, bean?" Juju kept staring at the weight rack, fingering the barbells to feel their coldness. Horace winked while she was distracted. So this was more playing? Horace had a lot of weight on the curl bar- but then, Horace was a strong boy. He was about to flaunt that strength, and Kyle was not comfortable with that at all. But then, it did fit into the act Horace seemed to be putting together. The bigger the enemy, the bigger the "victory" for Kyle, and the happier Juju would be. "Bean!" Kyle called. "C'mon, play with us." "I told you to beat him up!" Juju said. "When the spinach is ready, OK? Popeye didn't beat anybody before his spinach, right? And first Bluto showed off how strong he was, right?" Juju tried to pick up a five pound dumbbell, and struggled with it. "Lookit," she said, grunting as she lifted it over her head. "Lookit! Lookit!" "I see, now be careful," Kyle said grabbing the weight. Horace laughed, and started curling. Kyle looked at Horace and shuddered. Everyone knew Horace was big. He was a thick, thick boy. Not fat, but thick, like a squat tree. It made him look dumb. Not that anyone ever said that. And anyway, Horace wasn't dumb, exactly. He just wasn't interested in a whole hell of a lot. Except models. And cartoons. And fighting, Kyle assumed. He spent enough time at it. "11. 12!" Horace said, easily pumping the last rep out and putting the bar down. "Now you, cowlick." Kyle played with his shirt. "Um, I think, I better save myself for the fight." "Don't be stupid!" Horace pushed him to the weight, smiling. "Ya gotta warm up. Else ya could get hurted." Kyle saw his sister was suddenly looking at him funny. Great. Kyle had never touched a barbell in his life. They scared him. They were hard, they were heavy. He could break something. "Pick it up, cowlick!" Horace chided. What choice was there? Edgy, Kyle bent at the waist. "From your knees, dummy! Bend your knees!" Kyle quickly bent his knees, and grabbed the bar. He held his breath, and stood up. Or, tried to stand up. Kyle blew hard into his cheeks, and ground his teeth. The bar was an inch off the floor, and wasn't going any higher. "C'mon cowlick! What, you can't lift a thirty pound bar?" "He can so!" Juju pouted. "See, he's lifting it!" "Sure, high enough to slide a Hustler under it. Your bro don't got no muscle, beanie." Horace did a side bicep flex, and showed his arm had shape. Kyle dropped the weight, and gasped for air, more from embarrassment than exhaustion. He knew his arm had no meat at all. He could flex and you wouldn't know it. Juju knew that, but maybe didn't understand it. Horace went over to the bench, and kneeled by it. "Here, see?" he said, putting his arm up to wrestle. "Kyle!" Kyle almost cried. "Horace, I don't wanna do this anymore." "C'mon! You get your spinach in a minute! You want your spinach, don't you?" "No! This is dumb!" "It's not DUMB!" Juju screeched, suddenly raising her arms overhead and flailing at her brother's leg. "Beat him up!" "Juju, that's it! We're going home, NOW, and-" Without warning, Horace shot a punch to Kyle's stomach that folded him in half. A horrible, horrible gasp came out of Kyle's mouth, as he went to his knees. Upstairs, the microwave beeped. Horace turned to Ju, who was scowling at her brother, slowly writhing on the floor. "Go get the greenery, bean," Horace said. The little girl stood for a moment, fury building, then ran up the stairs, leaving her brother and Horace alone. "You're trying to kill me," Kyle moaned, without getting up. "You want to kill me and you want Ju to watch." "Nah, pal!" Horace said, bending to help Kyle unsteadily to his feet. "It's the set up! It's part of the sell! How's it gonna look if you knock me out if I've acted all friendly-like? Bad, that's how! But if I've been an asshole? Hell, bean's gonna look up to you for the rest of her life." "She loves me anyway, Horace!" Kyle said, desperately. "We're family! That's what family does!" "Yeah, well not if you back out now pal. I've beat the shit out of you, and if you just slink out without decking me, that girl'll never respect you again." The sounds of Juju opening the door to the cellar made them both be still. "OK, this is it," Horace whispered. "Just keep it simple. Eat a handful, make a show of it. I'll just stand here like I don't care, then you hit me just like I hit you." "But-" "You ain't gonna hurt me!" Horace whispered derisively. "But I'll jump back and lay out, for a few minutes. You revive me, I'll apologize, and we'll watch some more cartoons, huh? Shh!" Juju came right up to her brother, holding a plate piled high with warm, dark green, soggy shit. Kyle could smell it. God, he forgotten how he hated the stuff. "Eat it!" Juju said, holding it up. "Eat it all up!" "I don't need all of it," Kyle said. "I don't want to hit him into the next county." Horace laughed. "You're not going to hit me anywhere, punk. C'mon, eat it! See if I care." Kyle was getting a very bad feeling about this. "Eat it NOW!" Juju screeched. Kyle sniffed, and warily pinched a small portion between his fingers, popping it in his mouth. He almost gagged. Horace laughed. Kyle chewed a bit, swallowed, and winced. "Um. wow," he said. This probably wasn't the selling job Horace had in mind. Kyle took another pinch, slightly bigger, and swallowed that too. "Hmm. yeah, that feels weird." Kyle punched the air in front of him a bit, quickly, sharply. "Make a muscle!" Juju yelped. Horace slapped Kyle on the shoulder, turning him around. "Don't fucking make no muscle," he said, egging Kyle. "Hit me!" He pointed to his midsection, leaving it open. "C'mon, punk, strong to the finish! Hit me! Do it!" "Well, OK, you asked for it," Kyle said. He reared his fist back and pulling back a bit punched Horace squarely in the stomach. Horace stood perfectly still, and looked down at him, smiling. Kyle's world fell down like a house of cards. He quickly punched the stomach again, this time holding nothing back. Horace knocked the blow to the side, and chortled. "You dumb fuck," Horace said. Then Horace punched him. The conscious bits of Kyle left him immediately, which was all for the best. His head snapped back, and he fell like a bowling pin to the hard cold cement. Horace rubbed his fist, smiling at his victim. "So much for cartoons," he said. "Now," he said, casually picking a five-pound steel plate from the floor, "for business." "NO!!!" Juju ran between her brother and his taskmaster, in a blind, eight-year-old rage. She kicked and flailed and screeched. Horace chuckled, and grabbed her by the front of her dress, lifting her off the ground with one arm. "Stay out of this, bean sprout." "You're MEAN!" Juju screamed, flinging her fists uselessly. "Life lesson, bean," Horace said. He swung Juju over to his other arm, which he held straight out. She was straddling his bicep. "There are good rides," he said, flexing his muscle repeatedly, bouncing her up and down like a rag doll. Juju's head bounced up and down, wickedly. The scared, painful groan coming out of her sounded like a motorboat. "And there are bad rides," he said, grabbing her by the hair and flinging her down roughly onto the mat. Juju screeched, then lay still for a moment, and cried. "Figure out which is which before you get on." "Now then," Horace continued, ignoring the wailing girl. "To business." Horace dragged Kyle over to the incline bench, and lay him face-up upon it. "Nothing personal, Kyle," he said, as he sat on top of him, and flipped the steel plate in his hand. "I'm only an asshole when folks piss me off. So you learn who not to piss off. Not the worst thing in the world, huh?" With that, he brought the plate behind his back, and swung it wildly across Kyle's face, then back again. Blood spurted everywhere, over Kyle, over the bench, onto the floor. Onto Horace, who flinched. "Whoa!" Horace said, wiping his red sticky brow. "Ha! Cool. That's gonna leave a mark, huh bean?" Juju did not respond. She was still crying, more quietly now, and still on the floor, but now crawling. Crawling towards- Horace laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed. Of course. "Oh, are you a little hungry, Beano?" he mocked. "Does watching me knock the shit out of your brother give you an appetite?" Juju didn't even turn to him. Awkwardly, achingly, she was reaching out for the plate of spinach. "Goodness me!" Horace mocked. "What a poor host I've been! Here," he said, kneeling down to here, enjoying her squeal as he clutched her by the hair on the back of her head. "Let me SERVE you!" With that, he rammed her head down into the spinach. He pushed it down hard, then pulled it back. Juju was woozy, her eyes closed, her face dripping with green juice. A wad of the vile wet vegetable dangling out of her mouth. Somehow, through the fog, she swallowed. "Second helpings?" Horace prodded. "Don't mind if you do." He shoved her face down in the plate again, twisting it around. "You're Popeye the Sailor man!" Horace sang, laughing. "C'mon, you know the words!" Horace did notice Juju's jaw working, slowly, deliberately, chewing up more of the meal. It struck him as even funnier than before. "You're Popeye the Sailor Man!" he continued, laughing louder, maniacally. He pulled her up again. Juju desperately swallowed another wad, then gulped and gasped for air. Still frazzled, she looked Horace directly in the eye, and through clenched teeth, said, "I'm strong to the finish, 'cuz I eats me spinach." There was a subconscious part of Horace that caught onto something here. It wasn't rational, lord knows it wasn't that, but the sound of that voice, the tone of that girl- something wasn't right. Horace responded to that feeling in the only way he could. He pinched Juju's nose to force her mouth open, and poured in the rest of the plate. It was more than her mought could handle. She was gagging and the spinach was sticking out of her like they were the ugliest flowers ever put in a vase. Using his fingers, Horace tamped the wet mass tightly into Juju's mouth. Then he clamped her mouth shut roughly, squeezing her jaw so hard she whimpered, and waited for her to choke on it. "Whatever," he said, grimacing as he held his hand to her throat, and felt the last of the spinach go down. "Good girl," he said, kissing the top of her head. He punched his open hand. "Now, time for bed." He reared his fist back and punched Juju with all his weight in the nose. The momentum carried her back to two feet, and that, Horace thought as she lay lifeless on the floor, was that. Eight seconds later, Juju sat back up. "But I'm not tired, daddy," she said evenly. The little girl smiled- smiled! at Horace. He stood watching her. He was dumbfounded. Her nose was broken, he could see it swelling, her eyes would be black as night in an hour. She had to be in pain twenty times worse than what she was wailing over before. But now she was rolling her sleeve. "I want to play some more," she growled, and flexed. The sound of a shirt sleeve ripping filled the room. The bottom fell out from Horace. His bladder emptied. His mouth moved, and no words came out. His brain left for parts unknown. His body was backing away, towards a corner. His head was warily shaking in denial. Juju looked over to him, her fury slowly building. She grit her teeth, looked at her bicep, and flexed harder. The peak rose, steadily, inflating like a baloon. It grew so big it met her fist. Hell, it was pressing up on it! Her index finger extended to feel the top of it. Hard enough to satisfy her. She nodded at it in pleasure, and turned to Horace. "Th-th-that's-that's not human," he stammered, back meeting the wall. "Yes it is, silly," Juju said, striding up to him, twirling her fist behind her. "What I'm going to do to you isn't. Now, bend over!" And before Horace could blink, Juju's fist was up his stomach, driven with enough force to pick his feet off the ground. Horace's face contorted with pain, as he doubled over Juju's small fist. "That's a gooooood daddy," Juju said. She grunted, as she lifted her fist up, carrying Horace with it. The groaning teen was off the ground, limp hands and feet dangling inches from the floor, supported only by the strength of Juju's arm. Straining, Juju lofted Horace a half-foot into the air. "Alley,' she said as she released him. Horace let out a queasy yelp as his body rotated ninty degrees. Then, he came down, and Juju said "Oof!", meeting him with another hard upward punch to the midsection. Horace skyrocketed to the lowered ceiling. His butt hit the removable panel, knocking it out of place, then straightened out and fell back down to earth, as Juju twirled her fist behind her again. "WHAM!" she said, swinging an uppercut at his descending head. Horace bounced like a baton off her fist, hard against the wall, then face down at Juju's feet. "This is fun, daddy!" Stay down, Horace, he told himself. He could feel moist gooeyness surrounding his head. He bet there was big red stain on the wall where he hit. He didn't even understand why he was conscious- there must be a god, Horace thought, a vengeful, spiteful, wicked God, with three screws loose and an eight-year old angel who wasn't through hurting him yet. "Awwww," Juju said, looking down at his inert body. "I tired daddy out. No more fun for daddy!" Yes, Horace thought. Please. No more fun. Don't move, he told himself, not a muscle, not a moan, not a breath. Never mind that she's humming the Popeye theme slowly, never mind that sound of weights clanking, so she's moving something over here, it doesn't mean anything, nothing at all. Just don't look, just stay still and it will all go away. Juju knelt on his hair, causing him to wince. Shoving one hand under his chest, she grunted and lifted and pivoted his body straight up. Horace was standing on his battered head for a second, until Juju pushed him to his back so hard he bounced six inches off the floor. She knelt on his chest, and forced his right eyelid open. One hand was on his eye. The other was steadily curling a dumbbell with six 25-lb plates on it. Her sweaty, veined bicep was so gorged, her arm could not come higher than perpendicular. "No more fun," she hissed, raising the dumbbell behind her head. "Just business." The piercing shriek of Horace Gray could be heard, to its abrupt conclusion, up to three houses distant. * * * The TV in the hospital sucked. Kyle knew it as he heard Daffy Duck's last dethpicable insult to Bugs. There was something weird with the sound- tinny, muffled, and distant. The color was off too, but since Kyle's eyes were heavily bandaged after the surgery, he only knew that through the way his uncle had cursed about the Knicks' uniforms being purple earlier that afternoon. He never really liked Uncle Walt. The smell of his cigars seemed to have seeped deep into his skin. Still, he brought cool stuff, like the bowl of M&Ms and the Korn CDs, and at least he read the sports pages to him. Not school stuff like mom. Suddenly the sound was shut off. Kyle turned his head. "Dad?" he asked. "It's me," came the guilty, soft voice of his sister. Kyle sat up with glee. "Juj!" he cried. The two embraced, and Kyle almost cried. "I was so worried," he whispered. "I'm sorry," she said as she pushed her face in his chest. "It's not your fault, Jujubee," Kyle said, rocking her softly. "It's not your fault." Now Kyle could hear the tears choking from her eyes too. "I was snotty and mean and horrid and I got you beat up!" she said in a hot stream of misery. "I will never ever forgive me, not ever, and I'm going to be the bestest little sister you ever saw from now on and-" She went on, but Kyle shushed her quietly, and stroked her cherished hair. "You did nothing," he soothed. "It was Horace, love. He did this thing- this evil, horrible thing. Not you. Do you understand?" "No," she sniffed. "But he's dead and I'm glad and I'd do it again." The teeth left in Kyle's mouth went on edge. No one had wanted to talk about it, the scene in the basement when the police burst in. Horace Gray, or what was left of him, spread out in smears on the cement floor, pounded to paint and splintered bone with a gore-covered dumbbell too heavy for any child to lift. Juju collapsed by the side of her brother's body, wailing a sorrow beyond humanity. Covered in Horace's blood. Kyle faked a smile. "How's the loony bin, squirt?" "Don't tease me! They're stupid. I hate them and I can't believe I have to see that Dr. Kate person." "Mom tells me she's pretty." "She thinks she's smart, but I know. You have to see her, too, dopey crazy nut- nut." "Yeah, well, when I'm out of here. What do you talk about?" "She tries her smartie tricks to get me to tell her what happened." Kyle felt his sister shake her head. "Nuh-uh. Not gon' happen. I didn't tell that nice policemen Burt, and I'm not gonna tell her either." Kyle breathed. "Mom and Dad?" he offered. Juju laughed. "Are you mental?" The pause lasted for an uncomfortable stretch. The unstated was loud and frightening. Kyle could feel the smile, the serious happy grin coming at him, the dare. So this was how it was. If he asked, she would tell. He would gain forbidden knowledge, secrets man was not meant to know. A new world would open up, population him and her. A dangerous, complicated world, but a world with one more truth in it. "Wanna see my radio?" he asked. "Later!" she said, reaching for the remote. "I wanna see this!" She raised the volume back up. A sailor who had been on their minds serenaded them. Now just 'cuz your smaller, don't hit someone taller, sez Popeye the Sailor Man! His pipe tooted. The gods of irony grabbed an M&M from the bowl before they waved goodbye.