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           Itwasrightthen,standinginthekitchenwithMarla,thatIknewwhatTylerhaddone. 

           HIDEOUSLYWRINKLED. 

           AndIknewwhyhesentcandytoMarla’smother. 

           PLEASEHELP. 

           Isay,Marla,youdon’twanttolookinthefreezer. 

           Marlasays, "Dowhat?" 

           "Wenevereatredmeat,"TylertellsmeintheImpala,andhecan’tusechickenfatorthesoapwon’thardenintoabar. "Thestuff,"Tylersays,"ismakingusafortune. Wepaidtherentwiththatcollagen." 

           Isay,youshould’vetoldMarla. NowshethinksIdidit. 

           "Saponification,"Tylersays,"isthechemicalreactionyouneedtomakegoodsoap. Chickenfatwon’tworkoranyfatwithtoomuchsalt. 

           "Listen,"Tylersays. "Wehaveabigordertofill. Whatwe’lldoissendMarla’smomsomechocolatesandprobablysomefruitcakes." 

           Idon’tthinkthatwillwork,anymore. 

           Longstoryshort,Marlalookedinthefreezer. Okay,therewasalittlescuffle,first. Itrytostopher,andthebagshe’sholdinggetsdroppedandbreaksopenonthelinoleumandwebothslipinthegreasywhitemessandcomeupgagging. IhaveMarlaaroundthewaistfrombehind,herblackhairwhippingmyface,herarmspinnedtohersides,andI’msayingoverandover,itwasn’tme. Itwasn’tme. 

           Ididn’tdoit.