They all said that it wouldn't work, burying that half-eaten head. The demons still was in it, and they’d continue to plague whoever had it in his possession. The witch down south told us to burn it and take the charred skull to a crossroads outside of town, as far as we could go. The intersection confused them, she said. The raised spirit of that cursed thing would stand for an eternity, just trying to figure out which way to go to get back to town. Them ghostly types ain't too smart after all.
Me and Jeremy took it down out back, doused it in lighter fluid and set it afire. The thing screamed like bloody murder. It had no eyes, but me and Jeremy could feel its cold stare. We wrapped it up in one of Ma’s kitchen towels, (the one with the tan mushroom print on it) and threw it in a sack with some turkey and cheese sandwiches and headed out of town. The closest intersection was out on Interstate 33, where it crossed over Farm Road 210.
"Where'd you get this anyway?" I asked, watching him swing the sack around. He chawed his gum like a cow chewing on cud.
"Out by the cemetery. Robert's Ma just died. We happened to be out there makin' out."
Jeremy blushed. "Me and my girlfriend."
“Gross, that thing is Robert's Ma?"
"Well, what came out of her grave anyway."