The Bonecutters of Bear County in Knee-jerk
Todd Bonecutter began acting out his dreams, making them true. Last night, he dreamed about a video game machine filled with oil, the kind that lubes cars, makes them slick inside. Todd was nineteen and loved video games and hated to do it, but he took his X-Box, went out to the garage and grabbed a can of Pennzoil from a dusty shelf. He knew his grandmother was watching him from the window, the nag. She could see him across the yard, strewn with shit from Terminator, their German shepherd, solid brown deposits sunk heatedly in the snow.