Swamp Monster Love

Chapter 1: Chip

At the moment I look the same as I used to, perfectly human. My appendages are arranged in the traditional way, and my skin doesn't have even a tinge of green. I sit calmly on the sofa next to Chip and his latest attempt at love, and if you didn't know better, you'd think everything was fine.

True, I stink. I should admit that up front. Chip's wearing enough cologne to anesthetize a moose, but it does little to cover the potent, persistent stench of swamp muck.

Also, I'm having a hard time staying solid.

On screen, the late night host cracks a joke about surgical transplants and the magna carta – the magna carta – and it's all I can do to hold my skin together. Somehow, spiraling toward my inevitable death has loosened my sense of humor. Laughing, I feel my insides spread. Losing form. It feels so natural, I barely want to resist. It won't be long now, before I become more monster than man. And I am not the only one who knows.

Chip pretends to watch the screen. One hand massages Kellie's shoulder, but his other holds a lighter. There's an aerosol can near his foot. Not the most imaginative of weapons, but I suppose it would get the job done.

He knows I was at Hansen's Pond with the others. The ones who disappeared. He's noticed my...  changes. I can hardly even blame him for what he has to do. At least he's held off this long, respecting, for once, that we are brothers.

Or maybe, I realize, as he leans so close to Kellie that both their feet leave the floor, he's just distracted.

I'd go upstairs and give them some privacy, but I'm not sure I can manage it without collapsing into gelatin. So when Chip's legs curl up onto the couch (as he curls up onto Kellie), I ignore him kicking me to leave. Or at least I ignore the message; it takes a considerable amount of effort to keep my leg solid.

"Don't you have somewhere to go?" he asks between head bobs.

"What?" asks Kellie.

"Not you. Brian. I think he has to go somewhere. Like a shower maybe. Get rid of his stench. Right now probably. Right, Bri?"

"No." I manage to keep my voice level. "I'm fine, thanks."

Perhaps a full minute goes by, made more awkward by the fact that a vacuum infomercial is now on screen and my fellow couch-dwellers are becoming more vigorous in their, shall we say, interaction.

"This is weird," Kellie says. She tries to get up, falls back on her elbow, and then slips off the couch onto the floor. Thunk.

Chip–his real name is Walter, incidentally–straightens up, looking like his eyes can't quite focus.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," he says. "Since my perv little brother won't leave."

"Maybe," I say.

He elbows me, and this time I am unprepared. My arm dents inward, as if he had struck wadded cloth instead of muscle and bone.

His head snaps my direction, but I do not meet his gaze. I am glued to a revolutionary advance in wet-vac technology, one that makes even the most harried housewife clap her hands in glee. I get my arm back in shape and steel it in case he strikes again.

I don't know what I'll do if he goes for the aerosol can.

"Can you just take me home?" Kellie asks. "I'm not sure this was a..." She stands up and smooths her clothing. "Can you take me home?"

She pretends not to see when Chip reaches for her hand. She moves toward the stairs, alone. Now I pretend not to see, but I know Chip is glaring at me. My metamorphosis into inhuman monster was forgivable, but ruining his conquest has clearly crossed a line.

He scoops up the aerosol can and lighter. "Thanks a lot, perv"

"No problem, brother." I emphasize the last word, and then, hoping to get another pair of eyes watching him, add, "See you in chemistry, Kellie."

"Huh? Oh. Bye, Perv."

"It's Brian, actually. Perv is just kind of a. . . a nickname. I guess."

Halfway up the stairs, she doesn't bother responding.

Chip looks back and forth between us, weighing his options. Finally he walks away, flicking the lighter with every step.

One way or another, my days are numbered.