7That Sunday afternoon, I lounged around watching baseball on television while intermittently doing the Sunday crossword and reading a book. I got up to pee. Normally, I don't pay a great deal of attention to bodily functions but lately that had gotten me into trouble and made me the object of some ridicule, at least as far as Eric Schwilden was concerned. I'd finished what I was doing and glanced cursorily down at the toilet bowl. Grape juice, I thought. Someone had spilled grape juice. But no one in the house drank grape juice. Sean and Nathan hadn't been in that habit since they were quite small and certainly not now. And it was then, with a sickening feeling, I realized that what I saw was not grape juice at all but blood and it oozed out of my member. The cold claw of fear seized my i
