By Caty Weaver

Kelly Ryan was making dinner. Her ten-year-old son Benjamin was watching television in the living room. Or, at least she thought he was. "Benny-boy, do you want black beans or red beans?"

"Red beans, Mama." Ben had come up quietly right behind her. "Don't do that, Ben, you scared me half to death! You're going to get it now. . . " But right then, the phone rang. "I'll get back to you, stinker!" Kelly goes to the phone, but as soon as she lays her hand on it, the ringing stops.


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