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.