His teeth are yellow and crooked like an unsuccessful fence. He tells tales every night to frighten any curiosity out of the twins. In the next room crystal meth will be made all through the night.
"Every night at midnight food comes to life to fight for their placement in the produce bins, shelves and fridges of the world. The losers end up front and center, ready to be picked up to be chopped up, fried up, cooked up or whatevered up. If you ever stumble across one of their fights, they will turn you into one of them. A fat fist of dough to be flattened out and turned into spaghetti for lunch." He watches them carefully to make sure they are sufficiently spooked and then wishes them a good night's sleep. After he closes the door he starts to work on a batch of stovetop shards of jagged euphoria.
They know they are sleeping in a lion's den of danger and so they pretend to be scared but inside their pillow-soft thoughts they imagine little balls of dough wrestling for the fun of it.
The twins will hide in patches of innocence throughout their childhood until they see a clear opening to run for their lives.