MicroHorror

Tammy knew her dad worked late since her mother died two years ago–in an accident her father blamed on the Army’s negligence at the nearby Dead Loon Lake Facility–but he still worked there, nonetheless. In the last few weeks, he started staying overnight at the government labs. At least he called and she was fine on her own at age sixteen and with a car.

Still, she felt things were getting weird.

Like the “medicine” her dad told her she must take every morning and night. He supplied her with a case full of new syringes, showing her how to administer proper doses into her forearms. Tammy felt anxiety whenever receiving injections or immunizations, but Dad gave her a topical anesthetic spray made from ethyl chloride and it took the sting away.

She’d been taking the medication for over a month now. Asking why she had to take the medication and what it was for, her dad replied with tears in his eyes, “You’ll know when the time comes. You gotta watch what you eat, honey. Food’s gonna taste different. Don’t ever tell anyone, especially our neighbor, Commander Calvin, about this,” Dad said and then added, “Also, don’t make out with that Finstein boy. No lip-locking or French kissing. Just trust me. I love you.”

Tammy trusted and loved Daddy, and he didn’t need to mention Tom Finstein seeing as she dumped his lame ass ages ago and she wouldn’t be making out with anyone for a while. Still, she found her dad acting strange, drinking at home and talking to himself about birthing, biological retaliation, and salivary glands. Also, the medicine gave her nightmares and it made her skin dry and rough and her teeth hurt.

Now her dad was home and she was about to serve him dinner. Something didn’t seem right. “Daddy?” Tammy said, looking at her father. “You okay?”

Daddy rested in his recliner after working at the government lab all day. He didn’t look good. He wore an expression of pain and Tammy noted his ample beer-belly appeared larger.

She dropped the tray of Sloppy Joes as Daddy screamed out in pain. He ripped his plaid shirt open, revealing his round and hairy stomach, now rippling like the waves of a turbulent ocean. Daddy’s painful cry reached a soprano’s crescendo and his abdomen exploded.

Tammy, shielding her eyes from erupting blood, looked toward Daddy and saw him dead in his chair. The numerous fat, coiled, and slimy yellow things spilling out of Daddy’s bowels reminded Tammy of those nasty lamprey eels she saw in science class.

The glistening eel-things wriggled across the living-room floor with surprising speed. They hissed together, coming at her. Without thinking, she felt an immediate sense of defense and her mouth began watering. She hacked up a loogie from the bottom of her diaphragm and spit it out on several of the eel-things just as they reached her feet. As soon as the wad of phlegm hit the parasites, they erupted in a bright and foul-smelling flame. They roiled, hissed and sizzled.

Tammy stepped back, and spitting again, she ignited the remaining eels exiting her father’s gut. The house filled with smoke and soon the living room was on fire.

“Daddy,” she said, crying out and running to her dad’s side. She found him stone dead. “I love you,” she said and kissed his cheek.

As soon as her lips made contact with Dad’s skin, his flesh melted away and then his body caught fire. Shocked, she walked backwards and watched her father burning with the recliner and the house. She realized she cremated Dad with a wet kiss.

Tammy left the burning house behind, walking a mile up the main road to the Dead Loon Lake Facility to see who she was going to kiss and spit on.