The Stabs of 1985

One: The End of This Campaign

Eddie Munson Point of View

"Goddamnit" I yelled, smacking the tv. This piece of shit can't keep a signal for more than 30 fucking seconds. I've begged Wayne to get a new one, but we definitely don't have the money for it. That's how life is right now.

I walked towards our small, dirty kitchen. Drawers were left opened, and there were stains covering the floor. I opened the few cabinets left closed, and found a can of spaghetti-o's. "You'll have to do," I whispered before snatching it up.

I put the contents into the one clean pot we had, and turned on the burner. I looked back towards the tv. It had gotten a signal. It was some old movie. A sheriff was on screen. He shouted 'You'll pay' before the signal went out again.

I didn't even have the effort to try anymore. I was tired, and sore, and over life. I stare at the letter on the coffee table. A notice from my counselor. A "guide" to finishing up highschool. They send the same thing every year. Clearly, it isn't working.

The landline rang suddenly. I didn't usually get calls. It was probably Wayne's, but he was at the plant right now. I let it go to voicemail, hoping they would get the hint and not call again. I flopped down on the couch, letting out a big sigh.

The stupid phone rang again. I reluctantly got up, after just getting comfortable. I practically stomped over to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?" I spoke.

"Hello, is Wayne there?" a voice said. It probably was one of Wayne's coworkers.

"He's not here, can I take a message?" I said, tapping my feet. I was ready for this damn call to be over.

"Oh..just tell him I called," the guy said.

"And who are you, may I ask?" I said, getting impatient very quickly. My time would be of much better use not on this damn phone.

"Just say I'm a friend from work" the voice said, "Wayne will know who I am."

Hmm. Maybe I'll have a little fun with this guy. "Eh..You haven't fully convinced me yet," I teased.

"Are you Eddie? Wayne talks about you often," the voice said.

Wayne...talked about me? Often? Doesn't sound like him. "Hmm..really? What does he say...stranger?" I asked while stirring the spaghetti-o's. I glanced at the can. You gotta be kidding. These fuckers are expired. Too late. I'm hungry.

The line was silent for a second before the mystery voice spoke, "He says you're very funny...and that you like scary movies."

"Atleast Wayne's being nice" I chuckled, leaving myself a mental reminder to talk to Wayne about this conversation later.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" the voice said, with some creepy vibe to it. Maybe he tried to make it sound creepy cause it's scary movies. I don't know. Regardless it was a little strange.

"I don't know," I said. "They all feel the same sometimes. Horror is definitely the superior movie genre though."

"Hmm" the voice said, acting like they were thinking about something. "Would you like to be in a scary movie?"

I laughed out loud. "What, do you know a guy or something?" I chuckled. This guy was some nut job for sure.

"No, that's not really my speed," the voice said, "I'm more interested in creating scary movies. You want to be in it?"

I really had to hold back my laughter. "What..you think you're gonna become some big time movie director?" I joked. "What part would I be?"

The voice laughed. The laugh glitched out a little, sounding a little ominous. A branch sounded like it snapped outside. "I'm thinking you would play the helpless victim who dies first," the voice laughed.