MicroHorror

January 29, 2009

Friends & Neighbors

Little Jessica from two houses down was a righteous Catholic girl until a vampire strangled her with her own rosary beads and then changed her. When she tried to knock on my door, I staked her.

Timmy was a good boy too, until a werewolf caught him in the woods after sundown. I shot him down with silver bullets.

Old lady Johnson was the worst. Died of an aneurysm, then crawled out of her own deathbed. I lopped off her head with a machete.

You go out at night if you want to, but me? I’m staying inside with the door bolted tight.

Bad things happen out there.

December 25, 2008

So, Are You Ready For Christmas?

“So, are you ready for Christmas?” the teenage salesgirl said in a merry voice as she rang up my purchases.

What an annoying question. I hate when people ask me that. She really was a clueless little thing with her only-in-Texas teased blond hair and bubblegum lipstick. Grab it, ring it up and shove it in the bag. She hadn’t looked at a single thing I’d bought.

“Three hundred dollars and eighty-seven cents,” she chirped. “Somebody is going to have a nice Christmas this year.”

“Will they?” I said as I laid four crisp hundred-dollar bills in her childishly tiny hands. “Do you mind if I show you what I bought?”

She cocked her head to the side like a poodle and stared at me like she’d just woken up from a trance.

“Um… yeah… I guess… sure, mister.”

I carefully laid each item out on the counter. Four boxes of shotgun ammunition… two bowie knives… one hundred yards of double-woven rope… four padlocks… two boxes of razor blades… five thick wool scarves that make perfect gags… a gas can… box of matches… stacks and stacks of towels… two new mops for cleaning up the blood… and a large assortment of light pocket knives that could easily be thrown from a distance.

Disgust melted her Barbie-doll smile as she stared down at my purchases with dawning horror in her wide blue eyes. “Oooh.”

“Yes,” I said and chuckled. “I do believe I am ready for Christmas.”

December 8, 2008

Lazy Bones

Celeste Villalobos licked her lips as she heard her young neighbor fumble up the stairs. She cracked her door open and watched him precariously juggle plastic bags of frozen dinners and a case of beer. Celeste stepped out at just the right time. They collided. Frozen dinners and cans of Chef Boyardee and Coors Light rolled in all directions. She leisurely bent down as close to his nose as possible so Danny would get a whiff of her ginseng and honey shampoo.

“I’m sorry,” Danny stammered as she helped him pick up his groceries. “I always think that if I carry as many bags as I can then I won’t have to make as many trips up and down the steps.”

“Lazy bones,” Celeste said. She smiled as his wide blue eyes fixated on her cleavage. “That’s what Mama calls my little brother. He works harder to get out of work than he would if he just got off his ass.”

She teasingly poked a can of ravioli at his football player chest. “I see you two have the same eating habits as well. I hope you at least heat yours up before you start gobbling them from the can.” Celeste handed him back the can, teasingly brushing her long red nails across his palm as she did.

“Actually, I’m just a really baaaaad cook.”

The quiver in his voice and youthful uncertainty was delicious. Masculine heat rose off him like a sun lamp. It intoxicated her.

“I’m not,” Celeste teased.

“Well, if that’s a home-cooked dinner invitation, I promise I’ll even eat my vegetables. I’ve had all the micro-food I can stand for one week.”

“Great,” Celeste said as she loaded him back up with grocery bags. “Be at my apartment around twilight. I love candlelit dinners. No need to ring the doorbell. It’ll be unlocked.”

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Danny said and smoothed down his navy blue T-shirt to make sure it covered his waist. “What if some crazy person walks in?”

“Sometimes I like to be reckless,” she whispered softly in his ear.

Danny’s face was flushed; his cheeks were absolutely cherubic. The T-shirt did a poor job covering his excitement. “I–I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?”

“No, but don’t wear too much cologne.” Celeste wrinkled her nose playfully. “I don’t like men that smell girly.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Danny said and mock-saluted her.

Celeste shot him one last sweet smile and sauntered back to her apartment.

She went to her closet, quickly yanked out a faded dull black dress with spaghetti straps and tossed it on the bed. The hem was slightly unraveled at the bottom, but it was barely noticeable in the dim light. She ruffled through a cardboard box of old shoes until she found a pair of black heels that were scuffed around the ankles.

Celeste sat in front of her makeup table and sighed. She had second thoughts now that Danny wasn’t right under her nose. It was an awful lot of work to get dressed for a meal she didn’t intend to cook. Besides, the clothes were only going to get ripped to shreds anyway. She decided to just answer the door naked and save herself the bother.

Celeste whistled as she walked over to the stereo and programmed music by Disturbed, Foo Fighters and her personal favorite, “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses. She knew they weren’t the most romantic selections, but the vocals were loud and guttural enough to cover the impending screams. Celeste glanced at the calendar taped to the wall. Her stomach rumbled as she skipped past the day’s date and focused on the tiny yellow-highlighted words at the bottom: FULL MOON.

She was glad she waited for Danny to come home.

“Dining in is always much easier than hunting,” Celeste thought as she patiently waited for dinner to come knocking on her door.

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