The brothers sit facing each other in their dusty kitchen, meditating. Sam stands behind his ever-present Royal KMG typewriter, absentmindedly tapping away at the keys. His older brother, Willem, takes notes on a clipboard. The room is almost silent, except for the dripping of the faucet. It's fast paced and clearly distracts Sam. “I really wish my mother had hired a plumber, this noise is unbearable,” Sam says with fiery contempt. Willem responds to his younger brother's self-indulgent complaints with as much patience and reserve as to mock his brother. “Little brother, you definitely could ask a plumber, if the noise is so annoying.” Heavy on satire, it continues; “Honestly speaking, I've grown fond of the constant drip drip dripping. It reminds me of happier times, when mother was with us." Willem smiles to himself upon hearing his own words, as if he had pulled a brilliant joke. Willem and Sam's mother had died years ago, yet so little about their lives had changed. They continue to live together in their childhood home, where they haven't seen a mop or broom since before their mother got sick. Moth-chewed curtains hang from dirty windows where they haven't been torn down and covered over. The musty smell of aged wood and dying matriarch makes the air heavy and suffocating. Newspapers and old notebook paper bury most of the furniture. The walls and ceilings are rotting, the floors covered in years of dust and freshly crumbled sheets of paper, and forgotten jars line every shelf and counter. Their home is far from happy and indeed very close to total collapse. While both brothers could be blamed for the state of their once livable home, Sam in particular loves canned food and Sunday comics, and is... middle of paper... in a pool of blood. Willem almost sounds sincere when he says; "You've always been a show-off, huh my brother?" Sitting in Sam's chair, Willem searches through a pile of unused pages to find one with as little blood as possible. His results are far from perfect, but he's just one paper away from finally completing his best work to date. Willem inserts the paper into the Royal and adjusts it until the roller "rings", signaling him to begin his work. Willem types deliberately, pressing one key at a time. She has to write this way, as the hair wrapped around the Royal's arms has severely hindered her otherwise excellent typing skills. Slowly, as the blood mixes with the ink, the words begin to form and a calm smile spreads from cheek to cheek as Willem basks in his final victory: “Taken without honor or humanity – By Willem and Sam Forastiere. A sharing book. From 3 years old and up.”