SFSD-X Short Story Smackdown

6.3 Win a Few, Lose a Few

I opened my eyes, jerking upwards in a panic only to hit my head on a 'Do Not Enter' sign.

"Do you want this for your door?" Aunt Jordi asked.

"Sure. That's great."

"How's your head? I heard you yelling about the goats and boiling oil again."

"It's better," I said. I was into the nauseous stage of the migraine.

"Wonderful, darling. I have to run. See you tonight for dinner?"

"Yeah."

I was glad to see she had normal clothes on to go wherever she was going and Ted didn't seem to be with her. Work was hectic and I couldn't keep anything in my stomach, so you can imagine my annoyance when I came home, looking forward to a quiet home-cooked meal (OK, there were some perks to living with my crazy aunt. She cooked meals almost every day.) and found an old box full of a grey, gelatinous substance on the porch and a motorcycle parked in the front lawn.

Snorting laughter echoed through the house.

"Hey, it's me. What is the thing on the doorstep?" I yelled.

"Oh, hi!" Aunt Jordi said from her room. "What does it look like?"

I pushed the lid aside with my foot. Whatever it was, it was leaking through the cardboard and stank of rotten fish.

"It looks like a liquefied octopus that's been sitting in the sun," I said.

"Then it must be from Ted."

I studied it closer. At first, it had seemed grey, but I wasn't sure anymore. It wasn't really a color at all. Or if the color from out of space was a color it would be this. Where did that come from? I thought of the huge baby floating in its amniotic fluid in space and felt the need to puke.

I rushed in and through the living room to the guest bathroom and promptly worshipped the porcelain god. Sacrifice upon sacrifice of bile flowed into the offering bowl. Gritty baritone laughter came from the doorway.

"Been hitting it hard kinda early, huh? Let me know when you're ready for another drink," said the biker the laughter belonged to. A tattooed, cigarette-smelling jerk. I nodded and flushed.

"Mikey, I'm going to fry some chicken, are legs OK for you?" Aunt Jordi asked. "You look like hell, sweetheart. Are you sure you're all right? He gets migraines, you know."

"You got beer in the fridge?" the man asked, wandering off.

"Can you bring me some crackers and applesauce?" I asked, feeling like the five year old I must have sounded like. At some point, you just can't care about your image.

"Sure. Then you get some sleep," she said, blowing me a kiss.

That was the first night in a row of four she brought home a random acquaintance for a one-night stand. I didn't judge. I didn't have the energy even if judging was my thing. But it's not. They showed up every afternoon when Aunt Jordi went on the prowl and by the crack of dawn, were driving off. I never saw them leave. I would hear their motorcycles rev up and then my aunt would come back inside several minutes after they left, sighing and rummaging in the kitchen for breakfast. Truth be told, I couldn't understand the appeal of these men. There was something to be said for celibacy.

Then one night, she didn't bring anyone home and she was the one leaving before the crack of dawn. I had the kitchen to myself. The sign 314 was hanging slightly crooked on the basement door. I stared at it while chomping away on my extra sugar-filled O cereal. I studied it as I drank my third cup of coffee. The house was strange without my aunt in it. Empty, but not empty. Waiting.

Yeah, it was waiting, but not empty.

I knew for a fact that she couldn't lock the basement door. She just expected me not to open it.

She would kick me out on my ass if I opened the basement door.

Although, if she wasn't home, I wouldn't risk interrupting any games she played in there with her guests, and she wouldn't know I had opened it.

I put away the milk and rinsed my dishes. I set the dishes in the dishwasher. I dried my hands on the towel hanging on the wall. I checked the time. That sign was crooked, I should fix it for her.

I took one step, then two. I walked to the door and put my hand on the doorknob. A faint sweeping, like a really big broom cleaning the concrete, came from deep inside the basement. Inhaling, I took ahold of the doorknob and, in a figurative way only, my balls. Many years have passed since I was five and going into the basement alone scared the shit out of me. This shouldn't be a problem. I began turning the knob.

It stuck some, I had to force it. The door sprang open suddenly with a pop. I jolted, but kept it from swinging wide.

OK, Mikey. Now you're going to pull the light switch at the top of the stairs.

Wham!

Something heavy hit the door, forcing me away. Then that same something began a slow slide into the kitchen.

A grey skinned cadaver fell on the kitchen floor, gaping up at me with as much surprise as I felt. I screamed in a very unmanly manner. One of the biker dudes my aunt had brought home. He was dead, cold and buck naked. An octopus tentacle was wrapped around his neck. It twitched.

I screamed again and shot for the front door, knocking over a row of street names and highway signs in my haste. I tripped on the threshold and rolled into the front lawn.

From across our wide, weed choked yards, Ted stood up from his porch swing and started ambling towards me. His fishy face had gotten worse and was somehow more horrifying due to his fisherman's hat and waders.