Tony was getting fed up. His friend wasn’t listening to him. “No no no you don’t get it! I’m f***ing my mother!” - he screamed. The restaurant went quiet. Tony came from a strange family, to say the least. His great-grandparents were the creators of plastic. Yes, plastic. His mom was an eccentric aspiring author working on her debut novel about a mom who seduces her son on a yacht - that everyone believed to be more of an autobiography. Strange? Sure. Homicidal? Absolutely.