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Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater
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He took me to our empty shop. It was 1 a.m. and 7 degrees. I was wearing a dress and pantyhose. He held his shotgun to my head for 4 hours. He tried to make my frozen toes pull the trigger. I watched his hard eyes while he told me over and over again that I was ugly. I couldn’t hear his words very well, though, because the nursery rhyme played so loud in my head. “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater, had a wife but couldn’t keep her…”

© 2017 Carol Hummel