A:   momma is trying to kill me, i think.

B:  don't be saying those kinds of things, terrence...it's counter-productive.

A: yes,  i'm not making it up.  she came into my room in the middle of the night - with a sharp knife.

B: were you hoarding the cheese?

A: no

B: then what was she doing with the knife?

A: she was just holding it, in the doorway - raised to her chest, point down ... 

B: how did you know?

A: I was staring right at her 

B: did you say anything?

cut to: momma sliding out of the doorway, staring at terrence with his covers pulled up to his nose.