"Daddy?"
"Yes, son?"
"This lamb is delicious. Where did it come from?"
"God dropped it to us. From out of the sky."
"God is nice."
"Yes, son. God is nice indeed. Ha, ha, ha." Mr. Wertzinfg winked to his wife.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, son?"
"Why did you just laugh and wink at Mommy?"
"No reason."
"Did this lamb really come from God?"
"No, son. I guess you're old enough to know. We are eating Teresa."
The look of horror on Timmy's face was like nothing the German countryside had seen before. And the German countryside had seen a lot of horror in two world wars. Timmy started to vomit, uncontrollably. Mr. Wertzinfg picked up his plate and his goblet of beer and moved to the kitchen counter to finish eating. He laughed and laughed. His wife put her napkin up to Timmy's mouth but the bile just rushed forward regardless. Vomit covered the table. Timmy was bawling, like a small child who had just been told that his father had murdered his best friend and served him as dinner.
Mrs. Wertzinfg grabbed Timmy by the shirt collar and threw him through the front door. She followed him out and hosed him off. She stripped him naked, brought him back into the house, threw him into bed and said, "Go bed. No dessert for you!"
When she left Timmy said, "I don't want any of your chocolate covered Teresa for no dessert."
Out in the kitchen Mr. and Mrs. Wertzinfg proceeded to get drunk. The lamb they didn't eat, they shoved under Timmy's door. Then they danced around the kitchen singing German beer drinking songs.
Editor's Note: In Issue #17, one point in the story, Teresa was mistakenly referred to as Tector. We regret the error.