Jim stared down and saw a squished mess, forming a vaguely insect-looking Rorschach test blot, beneath the bottom of the water glass still held in his hand.
"Tengo al pequeño hijo de puta," Jim muttered, his face twisted into a snarling grimace.
Sal chuckled and shook his head, glancing at the insect smeared beneath the glass, detecting a trickle of pale fluids among the blot of remains.
"So, how long we waiting, papi? Brad's not home and no telling when he will be."
Jim unwrapped his fingers from around the glass.
"You're right," he said. "We can come back another time."
"Aren't you going to clean that?" Sal asked, frowning with disgust at the squashed housefly.
Jim chuckled. "Tu hermano puede limpiarlo," he answered.
They exited the house, but as they walked back to Jim's truck, Mark's car screeched into the driveway.
Mark, clutching a paper bag holding a purchase of batteries, stepped out of the car and paled as his father-in-law and brother-in-law approached.
"I'd hoped Brad might be with you," Jim said.
"What were..." Mark started. "Why are..."
Sal watched as the bigger man struggled to put together a coherent statement.
Jim glanced at the bag in his son-in-law's hands.
"Batteries," Mark croaked. "It was an emergency..."
"An emergency?"
"Well, we were out...of the right size..."
Jim looked puzzled. "Well, you tell Brad we'll stop by another time," he said. "I'm sorry we missed him."
Sal had already climbed into the truck, eager to depart.
Mark stood petrified in place as Jim got into the truck. Only once the truck made the left turn at the end of the street did Mark dash inside the house.
No sign of his husband. He listened for the tell-tale buzz of tiny wings.
"Brad?" Mark nervously spoke his husband's name.
Mark shook the bag. "I have the batteries."
He stepped into the kitchen. The only thing that looked out of place was a water glass on the counter.
Stepping closer, he glanced down and almost missed the gruesome mess flattened beneath the glass.
He lifted the glass, but some of the smeared remains stuck to the countertop instead of pulling free with the bottom of the glass.
Glancing long enough to verify a mangled pair of wings, Mark exhaled. "Oh fuck!"