He drives his spade deep into the dirt where he is to bury his father. His thoughts stretch back through the ages. How many have burried the hand that once fed them. His teeth gritted, his hands rough and without feeling grip the net. He hauls the net from the ocean. It’s the first time the eccentric old fool has danced in years. The smile on his face is a symptom of a mind buried in the past. The muscles across her face pull taut. The scream for love left behind. His nose wrinkled up in a moment of childish giggles. She roars and this time it’s loader than her big brother was expecting. She realised it was her that left the pan too close to the edge. Gripping the gas nozzle between both hands, she pushes and her body contracts. The bubbles rolling down his face, he wonders if Elvis used to practice in the bath. She licks around the rim of the cone but it’s melting faster than she can control. He licks the cum from the tip and sees the skin is torn. His eyes light up as he sees the wonder on her face. He holds her fingers and wonders if his Dad did the same. She squeezes the orange. She cracks the egg. He waves his magic hands. He blinks as the shutter is pressed. She closes her eyes for the last time. He feels completely empty. She trembles in fear. He is still for a moment.