He
didn't think of himself as a killer, even though he stood there with
the implements of death in his hand and hundreds of corpses laying
around him in every direction. It was just an adventure but he knew his
father would be angry with him. He knew this with certainty. He thought
suddenly of Horton the elephant and how Horton kept reminding himself
that a person was a person, no matter how small. What would Horton
think? They were small, these little bodies that had been moving just
minutes before but now seemed like exclamation points on the driveway.
The magnifying glass felt heavy in his hand all of sudden. He gingerly
used his feet to create a pile of bodies and then went into the garage
to get a broom. His father would never know. And neither would Horton.
