anything containing water. And
only the water was used, it seemed. Dissolved solids were cast aside
in the form of variously colored dusts.

By now, the goop had outgrown the pail and was two-thirds up in the
laundry tub. A slow drip from the faucet kept the surface of my
monster in a constant state of frenzy, like feeding a rumpot beer by
the thimbleful.

It was fascinating to watch the little curleycues of jelly flip up
after each drop, reaching for more, and then falling back with a
cranky little lash.

* * * * *

At two o'clock this morning, I began to get a little sense in me. Or
maybe it was just the fear finally catching up again.

_There was danger here._

I was too fuzzy to know exactly what the danger was, but I began to
develop a husky hate for the whole project.

"Kill it!" came into my mind. "Get rid of it, Charlie!"

Lottie's scream shrilled back into my ears, and this command became
very important to me. I became angry.

"Want a drink, do you?" I shouted out loud. I put on the tea kettle
and when it was to full steam, I took it back to the tub. "I'll give
you a drink with a kick in it!"

What happened, I would like to forget. Ten times as fast as it had
climbed up the cold water spout, it ran up the boiling water stream,
into the tea kettle, blew off the lid and swarmed over my hand with a
scalding-dry slither that made me drop the kettle into the tub and
scream with pain.

The jelly steamed and stuck to my flesh long enough to sear it half to
the bone. Then it slopped back with the rest and left me grabbing my
wrist and tearing at the flesh with my finger-nails to stop the pain.

Then I got insane mad. I got my big blowtorch I use for peeling paint,
and I lit it and pumped it up as high as it would go and aimed it down
into that tub.

Not too much happened. The jelly shrank away from the roaring blast,
but it didn't climb over the edge of the tub. It shrank some more and
I poured the flame on.

It didn't burn. It just got to be less and less, and what was left
began to get cloudy. And when I hit the bottom of the tub, the last
glob moved around pretty active, trying to escape the heat, but I got
it. Every damned last shred of it, and I was laughing and crying when
I dropped the torch into the tub. I had been holding it with my
scalded hand and I guess I fainted.

I wasn't out long. I got up and dressed my hand with lard, and it felt
pretty good. Took a