Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Mirrors (Merome)

This is the second of three Halloween-ish themed stories. This one-shot is based very, very loosely on the song "Mirrors" by Justin Timberlake (see above).

Trigger Warning: If you have a weak stomach, if you don't handle stress well, or if you have any triggers whatsoever, I recommend that you skip this story. It isn't the worst thing I've written (by a long shot), but it still might be disturbing for some readers.

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Jerome:

The fuckin' doorbell's ringing again. We aren't even filming a challenge video, so what could that old bag next door wanna bitch about now? Every single day. Every single fucking day, she's over here rippin' us a new one about how we woke her granddaughter up. Lady, you don't have a fuckin' granddaughter. You don't have a daughter. Hell, you never even had a spouse 'cause no one could possibly wanna put up with your moldy old ass. All you've got is cats, and let me tell ya, the cats don't give a shit if we're playing ping pong at nine o'clock at night. They probably wanna play with our balls, too.

The bell rings again and I groan and rub my eyes in the dark room. It's probably like two in the afternoon but we just went to bed a couple hours ago. Lachlan and his damn Aussie flights at six in the morning. Who the hell wants to fly back to NemoLand in time for dinner? Eat some fuckin' peanuts, take a nap, and shut your trap. The bell rings a third time but my legs still don't wanna move.

"Mitch!" I yell, hoping he can hear me from his room at the other end of the hall. Not likely. When the King's asleep, you know the lion's fuckin' sleeping tonight. About the only thing that can wake him up is his ex-girlfriend's cheap perfume, and that freaks him the fuck out. Can't blame him, after what happened last year with that nutso stalker who broke in and knocked him out. I wanna spray some in his eye about now. It'd be worth hearing his bitching for a week just so I wouldn't hafta deal with Agnes Hagface two days in a row. The bell rings again and I can hear 'em knockin' on the door downstairs. "M-itch! It's your turn!" No answer. I sigh and swing my legs over the side of the bed, pulling on yesterday's jeans as I walk over to the bedroom door. I take my time going downstairs, and they ring the bell again as soon as I make it down to the kitchen. I look through the window pane on the door and it looks like two big guys in dark blue shirts. Did Benj get new gardeners or some shit? I open the door, and they knock the yawn right outta my mouth before I can say a word. In seconds, I'm on the ground with cold, silver cuffs on with some big fat guy pullin' me up by the back of my shirt.

"Jerome Aceti, you're under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you in-" What the hell's happening? Before I know it, my head is thrown back and I'm screaming like a banshee, louder than I've ever screamed before.

"MIIIIIITTTCCCHHH!"

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"I swear, I don't know anything. I was home sleepin' in, we'd just got back from taking our friend to the airport, and they were with me all night and all weekend. I swear, I didn't know any of that happened until you told me. I didn't kill any kids. I'm not that kinda guy. I was at home with the boys all weekend. I didn't do it, man." I can't tell if the detective is convinced or not, but she cringes at the end. "Sorry. Ma'am."

"The officers reported that it took you just over six minutes to answer the door. Can you explain to me again why it took so long?" I try not to roll my eyes and I awkwardly nod my head, trying to push the anger back down. How many times am I gonna hafta explain how lazy I am?

"I was asleep upstairs and I didn't hear 'em knocking when they first got there. They shoulda rang the bell to start with." She still doesn't believe me. "I heard it the first time they rang the bell, but I thought it was our annoying neighbor lady so I just ignored it for a couple minutes. She's over there every day talkin' about how we can't be outside in our backyard after five at night and... Look, I don't have time to take twelve-hour road trips every day to go to Arizona and West Virginia and New Jersey. Check my bank statements if you don't believe me. I haven't left the state since last month. I don't know who's doing it, but it ain't me, that's for sure." She's getting annoyed now and she shuffles back through the paperwork to her notes about the case. I hope they'll let me go soon - I've been here for four hours already and I could go for some chicken katsu to calm my nerves.