The Demon in the Doll

Chapter 32

On Friday, I had one of the best games in the history of high school football. I actually recorded eleven quarterback sacks. Count them. Eleven. Plus I injured two quarterbacks so badly that they couldn't return to the field. They were replaced by a hapless wide receiver who had trouble throwing a spiral. And if that weren't glorious enough, I caught two touchdown passes—one of which was fifty-two yards long.

The fans in the stands even chanted my name throughout the contest. "Buh-Dee! Buh-Dee! Buh-Dee!"

You should have heard them. I was a shining star in all of their eyes. For a single night on earth, I felt like the king of the world. How many people can say that? After the game, the team even carried me off on their shoulders.

I took a quick shower in the fieldhouse and walked outside. I was expecting to see June waiting for me in the parking lot, but she was nowhere to be found. I wasn't too concerned. I figured that she had probably passed out drunk on the sofa while watching Netflix. It wouldn't have been the first time it had happened.

Coach Champagne said, "Hey, stud, you need a ride?"

I said, "I wish you'd stop calling me stud."

"Why? If the shoe fits, why not wear it?"

"It sounds a little gay, doesn't it?"

"Bullshit! This is the 21st century. Being a homo is better than being straight. It earns you more street cred. Now how about that ride? And don't worry. I won't try to fuck you up the ass."

"I think I'll hoof it."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Champagne then climbed into his van and drove away.

The walk home was very pleasant. Summer in Louisiana isn't too bad once the sun goes down. True. We do have a ton of mosquitos. Yet for some strange reason, those little pests never found my blood very appetizing. In fact, I can't recall ever being bitten. I smoked a few cigarettes along the way as the cars sped by. I made sure that I was facing the traffic. That way the drivers could see the cherry from my Marlboro. It acted as a reflector.

When I got back to my humble abode, I threw open the front door triumphantly. June was on the sofa, sitting in the dark. The only light came from the television screen. She was viewing Seinfeld on Netflix. The episode focused on a character known as the Soup Nazi. The studio audience was screaming with laughter.

June was chuckling, too. I soon noticed that she had an axe between her legs, and she was gripping the handle with both hands. There was black blood on the blade.

I said, "Everything OK?"

She nodded and smiled. "Of course! Everything is fine and dandy. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you're holding a blood-stained axe with a look of consternation on your face. That's usually not a good sign."

"If the truth be known, I caught your mother fucking another guy."

"Who?"

"That asshole, Dr. Peterman."

"So what did you do?"

She shrugged. "What do you think I did? I killed the bitch."

I laughed out loud. "You? You're in no condition to murder anybody. I bet that you can't even lift that axe up over your head."