"You are a selfish, vicious, horrible creature," she said to me. "And I wish you'd never been born."

I tried to lie.

"It's just a story I'm writing," I told her. "I know there are real names in it right now, but they were only there until I could find something better."

"I take it back," my mother said, and for a second I thought what I'd said had worked. But no. "You're a lying, selfish, vicious, horrible creature." She took a big metal spoon from behind her back. "I'm going to beat you so hard you will never — never, do you hear me? — waste your time inventing cruelties again!" Her words brought another lie to mind. I thought: I'll try it, why not? She's going to beat me anyhow so what's to lose? I said to her:

"I know what I am, Momma. I'm one of the Demonation. Maybe just a little one, but I'm still a Demon. Well? Aren't I?"

She didn't answer. So I went on. "And I thought we were supposed to be selfish and vicious and whatever else you said I was. I hear other kids talking about it all the time. The terrible things they're going to do when they get out of school. The weapons they're going to invent, and sell to Humankind. And the execution machines. That's what I'd really like to do. I'd like to create the best execution machine that was ever — "

I stopped. Momma had a puzzled look on her face.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just wondering how long I'm going to let you go on talking nonsense before I slap some sense into you. Execution machines! You don't have the brains to make any such thing! And take the ends of your tails out of your mouth. You'll prick your tongue."

I took the tail tips, which I always chewed on when I was nervous, out from between my teeth, all the while trying to remember what I'd overheard other Demon kids saying about the art of killing people. "I'm going to invent the first mechanical disemboweler," I said.