Go even further.

You look at the clock. Mid-afternoon. Good.

You go up to your room and grab the webcam from its perch atop your computer. You look across to the window, unsure if the cable will reach. You shrug. Worth a try.

You end up having to move your computer desk a few feet to one side, but you are able you set it on the window sill, where you train it on the sidewalk in front of the house, zooming in and making sure it stays focused on the concrete surface as pedestrians walk through the shot.

Moving back to your computer, you begin recording.

Returning to the laundry room, you pick up the soiled banana peel that used to be your mother. You carry it out the front door, careful not to let your cum spill out of it. Then you wait until there is a break in foot traffic and no one in sight.

You place your mother's bedraggled remains on the sidewalk, splayed out so as to present the largest possible target, tiny limbs and split face clearly visible from close up.

Then you leave it there.

Back in your room, you look at the screen just in time to see a large foot descend on one of the segments of peel, crushing a tiny leg to a stringy yellow pulp. Glancing back out the window, you see the late afternoon crowd from the nearby train station filling the sidewalk.

You sit in front of your computer and masturbate while you watch the gradual obliteration under the feet of uncaring, unaware passers-by of that which had been your hot, sexy mother.

You cum while imagining whether it will be more appropriate to clean up the mess with a sponge and bucket, or tweezers and a thimble.