All the Little Animals

It's funny...

I can see my old self

quite clearly.

Remembering how I felt

is much, much harder.

Sometimes feelings

come back to me

when I'm digging.

or in a dream.

But mostly, he's gone.

That earlier me...

could hardly

do anything,

even think anything.

I mean, I could...

I could read a bit.

And I could write a bit.

I could talk...

but hardly ever did.

That was it, really.

Everything began

on that day.

That was the morning I woke up

after my fox dream

and knew deep down

that The Fat had killed my mother.

I don't mean that

he'd murdered her or anything,

but he killed her

just the same.

He shouted her

to death.

I used to hear him shouting

when I was in bed at night.

When my mother married

The Fat, she was pretty. Beautiful, really.

But afterward,

she got thinner and thinner

until she just died.

He killed her

all right.

Hello.

Good morning, Peter.

Hello. Peter!

Hello, Peter.

Hmm?

You're beautiful,

little mouse.

Here we go.

Magic.

Aye.

Eat some crumbs.

Here you go.

You're magic.

Are you?

Are you magic?

If you're magic, you could make

wished come true, couldn't you?

I know what

I would wish for.

I would wish that I lived

in a magic kingdom.

You could be king

and I'll be son of...

God.

Like that?

Would you?

You out back, Bobby?

Bobby had a little King.

King was white as snow.

Everywhere

that Bobby went,

King would surely go.

We're in good shape, are we?

For Mommy's funeral?

I got your suit.

He said I was to hang around

while you got changed.

Got a ton of jobs to do

as well, before we go.

Are you coming?

You hardly knew

my mother.

Here, look.

Got you these.

Might cheer you up a bit,

later on.

Thanks, Dean.

Move, boy, go on.

Priest:
For as much

as it has pleased Almighty God,

in His great mercy,

to take unto Himself

the soul of our dear sister

here departed,

we therefore commit

her body to the ground,

earth to earth, ashes to ashes,

dust to dust,

in the sure and certain hope

of resurrection

to eternal life, through our Lord,

Jesus Christ.

Amen.

Go on, Bobby,

open it.

Go on, go on.

Happy birthday, darling.

Happy birthday.

My mom met The Fat

at a time when she was

very worried about the store.

Business was bad, but then she gave

The Fat an important job there,

and after that,

things got a lot better again.

We used to go there about once a week

and visit all the departments.

I'd say hello to everybody

and they'd smile and say hello back.

I saw the store that day,

from the car.

I saw the name PLATTS

in big red letters above the door.

My mother's name.

My name.

Our store.

The most important thing about me

is that when I was little,

I was knocked down

by a car.

I hurt my head badly.

I haven't really been well

ever since.

Aye,

get up, Bobby.

My God, look at the state.

Come on.

Sorry, Bobby.

He wants to see you now, in the study.

My God.

You look like my granny

in a coma.

Here, blue one

will get you going.

Come on.

Now, come on!

Wake up.

Move!

Come in.

Bobby.

How are you?

The funeral

was quite lovely, I thought.

It might interest you

to know

that I have been giving

some thought to the future.

Your future.

I want to see Dr. Forrest.

I don't like Dr. Clarke.

Bobby doesn't like Dr. Clarke?

He'll make me

take pills.

Does this mean Bobby

likes Dr. Forrest?

He doesn't make me take pills.

He talks to me.

Therapy?

Hmm.

That's a joke.

Look at you.

Years of talk

and no improvement whatsoever.

Poor, poor Bobby.

What's the matter?

Lights out.

Come in.

I just want

to say, Bobby,

how sorry I am

about your mother.

She'll be missed.

She really will.

Thank you.

Stuart, as you're here,

would you mind

witnessing Bobby's signature

on these documents?

- Yes, fine.

- Please, sit.

Now, Bobby,

can you pay attention?

I need your signature

on these documents,

where I've indicated.

Stuart will witness.

No.

What do you mean, "no"?

No.

No.

No signing.

My mother said never ever...

no signing... before she died.

- She said that.

- This is nothing to concern you.

These are legal matters

relating to your welfare.

I thought that you were

in my sole care?

She said no.

Look,

your signature

means that you

will be taken care of.

That's all.

No, she said not to.

She made me promise.

Ahem.

Look, em...

Surely he doesn't have

to do this today.

The funeral,

and so on.

Which means it can wait

for a couple of days.

I suppose

it will have to.

I'll see you

in the morning.

Bobby, come here.

Sit down.

And what was all that about,

"Bobby Booby"?

It seems I've got your mother

to thank for this nonsense...

a sort of parting gesture.

You think these are something

to do with the store, don't you?

What if they are?

What use would the store

be to you?

Let me spell it out for you.

If you sign these papers, the right thing

will be you living here with me.

Just as you have been doing.

Then again,

for someone like you,

other arrangements

might be called for.

I don't...

I don't understand.

Oh, Bobby,

you are not so subnormal

that you don't know

there are certain

special hospitals

where people

like you can go

when you're too ill

to be managed at home.

I'm not ill.

You can't send me to a hospital

if I'm not ill.

I think I can.

With Dr. Clarke's help,

I certainly can.

They'll take you.

And they'll keep you...

forever.

Think of it.

You'll rot there

with all the other loonies,

until you're an old,

old man.

- You can't.

- Yes, I can.

But I won't have to

if you're sensible.

All you need do is sign

and it's "home sweet home. "

I'll give you some time

to think it over.

Tomorrow afternoon,

precisely 4:
00,

I will pick up

the phone

to Dr. Clarke.

I will tell him

your mother's death

has been a terrible

setback for you.

And in your present state,

I can't cope

with you at home.

What happens after that,

I shall leave you to work out for yourself.

I can assure you...

that if your poor mother

were here now,

she would be

on her knees.

On her knees,

begging you to sign the store

over to me.

You can go now.

Not the howling.

I hate the howling.

Get up.

Get up

and get out of here now.

Peter! Peter!

Peter?

Peter!

Where are you?

Peter! Peter!

Peter?

What's the matter, Bobby?

Nothing.

Just looking

for something.

You mean, Peter?

Where is he?

I want him.

He's in a safe place.

You see, I've always known

about Peter.

Give me my mouse.

I want my mouse.

I've had a little talk

with him.

Peter really needs

your signature.

On those papers.

He understands that otherwise,

you'll never see him again.

I can't.

I promised her.

It's Dr. Clarke for you.

Tomorrow.

4:
00.

And this is all your fault.

I never wanted any of this

to happen.

I left by the back gate

where the rubbish lorry

comes to collect

the rubbish.

Nobody noticed me.

It couldn't have been easier.

I stopped to bury Peter

under one of the trees

by the side

of the road.

After that, I wanted

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