Killing Wally Prematurely  I'm in a submarine with Colonel Clink from the television show Hogan's Heros. One of the officers goes into the bathroom on board. Schulz, from the same show, and the short French man are also there. Schulz is guarding people in his usual obtuse manner. People dupe him. I'm there. I sit on the ground hunched over, covered with a cloak. Schulz doesn't know I'm a person. I jump up, and am in the living room at the Redding farm. I shoot three unsuspecting people. I'm in the baby room at the farm. My brother Wally bursts in, firing a gun at me. I seek cover in the kitchen, behind a wall. I have a shotgun that shoots hand grenades. I cock it several times, and then cautiously lean around the corner of the doorway and fire three shots. Wally is near the back left corner of the room. The grenades shoot crooked out of my gun, in a straight path but to the left of where I aimed. I cock my shotgun again and fire, adjusting for the crooked trajectory. My fourth or fifth shot hits Wally directly in the chest. There is hole in his chest, and a pause. His body is then ripped apart, blown to pieces in fire, ashes, and explosions, with blood and fire mixed, spread out like sunrays in all directions. He blows up, burning and bleeding. I see his form, his shape, as it explodes. He asks me, "What did you do that for?", in such a tone that I feel guilty for shooting him with a grenade. He is alive shortly. I run away. I feel terrible that I have killed him. It is a premature killing. I run past the garage, plum trees, chicken coops, and into the cornfield. I take a silver handgun out of my pocket and carry it with me. I am scared of being confronted by Wally. I think he may still be alive.