The waterknife made no sound at all, microscopic gnat suspended in a needle-stream of high-speed water. The thing was intended to cut glass and alloy, Bobby knew, not to slice microwaved pizza, and he wanted to scream at her because he was terrified she’d take off her thumb without even feeling it.

She lovingly sliced the last piece, toed the kickplate that shut the knife down, transferred the sliced pizza to a plain white ceramic platter, then turned toward the rectangle of blue beyond the balcony, where her children were now. Bobby said, way down in himself, no way. Because the things that wheeled and plunged for her weren’t hang-gliding kids, but babies, the monstrous babies of Marsha’s dream, and the tattered wings a confusion; of pink bone, metal, patched taut membranes of scrap plastic . . . He saw their teeth

Did anyone else remember that part in the first ninja turtles movie where mikey is saying that it (leonardo) slices, it dices, and then whomp! a slice of pizza lands in master splinters head. childhood memories…