Death Comes Halloween
Robby dashed to the next house with his skeleton mask bouncing on his face. He turned to his friend, Max, who wore a striped shirt and an eye patch.
“Hey Max, if I get more candy than you, I get a shot with your sister, Cindy.”
“No way, dude.”
“Pussy.”
Robby pressed the doorbell as he rocked on his toes. The door began opening. He shouted with Max, “Trick or Treat!”
“Hi, fellas,” an oaf of a man said. “Hold on a second.”
Robby stuck his head inside as he waited. Max grabbed his shoulder.
“Stop, man.”
Robby stared at a girl in a red dress with soft velvet horns. Her lips were wrapped around a bong. As she saw him, she let the smoke drift out of her mouth, and winked to him.
“Robby. Oh shit!”
The man came back with two cans of cheap beer.
“Here, sons. Don’t tell anyone where you got it. Alright?”
“Sure,” Max said. “Thanks, mister.”
The door closed and both the boys were left starry-eyed.
“Holy fuck,” Robby said.
They opened their beers and slammed them together, spraying froth. Each chugged the booze, tilting the can more until it was empty. In victory, they threw the cans down and ran across the street.
“Did you see that hot chick in red?” Robby asked.
“Yes, you dipshit. But you don’t stick your nose in the door and stare.”
“Shut up,” Robby said, shoving Max to the ground. Feeling bad, Robby offered his hand to help him up. Max grabbed his hand and stood up, then spit in Robby’s face.
“Asshole,” Robby said, slugging Max in the stomach. Max crouched, holding his stomach.
“You done now, Max?”
“Yea, I’m done. Sorry.”
Max stood up and kicked Robby between the legs.
“Ow!” Robby cried, rolling in the street. Max burst out in laughter. Yellow headlights bounced down the street, blinding them.
“Shit! Robby, get the fuck up. Now!”
The engine’s roar doubled in volume. The wheels squealed as the car drifted towards them. Max put his arms up to protect his face as the car slammed into him. Robby screamed as it ran over his lower body. He looked down, petrified at his flattened legs. Tire marks imprinted his skin into the street. The burned rubber hit his nose.
Max laid impaled on a fence’s spoke. “Help!” he cried, looking at his belly button that was speared through.
The driver of the car stepped out. He opened his trunk, and dragged a screaming Robby over to it.
“Help me, mister. Please! Take me to a hospital,” Max said.
The figure approached Max, lifted him off, and carried him to the trunk.
“Who are you?” Max asked, before it slammed shut.
The car drove off.
“Max, is that you?”
“Yea. Robby?”
“I can’t feel my legs.”
“Shirley, you are not leaving the house like that.”
“Aw, mom.”
“No! Get upstairs and find something else.”
“Whatever,” Shirley said, marching upstairs.
“It’s not fair,” she muttered to herself as she walked into her room and sat on her bed. She looked around the floor for the sharpest object, but a clack on the window distracted her. She opened it and leaned on the sill.
“Hey Shirley, let’s go,” a fat girl said who stood on her lawn.
Shirley mouthed the words ‘I can’t’.
The fat girl pointed to the adjacent tree. “Climb down, Shirley.”
Shirley looked at the door handle of her room with scorn.
“OK.”
She nervously climbed out, and sat on the windowsill with her legs dangling. Her skirt rode up, showing her panties. Sweat made her mascara run like a sad clown.
“Hurry,” the fat girl said.
Shirley pushed off the windowsill and stretched her arms out for the tree limb. Her fingers brushed the branch and her body tilted forward. She watched as the fat girl hopped backwards out of the way, but became optimistic when the grass below enclosed. Her feet gently hit the ground in her high heels, then her legs bent, and her kneecaps met the earth.
“Ah!,” she screamed, laying hopelessly on the wet grass. She cried, watching her kneecaps float beneath the skin. “No one will think I’m pretty now,” she sobbed. “They’ll all laugh, and call me a cripple.”
“No, Shirley, you’re too good of a person to be a cripple.”
She dragged her friend along the grass. “How bad is it?” she asked.
A yellow glow silhouetted the fat girl, and a roaring car slammed into view. The fat girl bent backwards over the car’s hood, snapping her legs.
The figure stepped out of the car, carried Shirley to the trunk, and wedged her inside. He stopped at the fat girl and cast a disgusted glare.
“Who are you?” she asked. He lifted her off the hood, and reached at his waistline. She watched the black gun move through the air. He jammed it between her teeth to the back of her throat, and pulled the trigger. Her head flew back with a stupid dolt of an expression on her face. He grunted as he stomped his weight onto her head. Instantly, he felt relieved as her features turned to gibs. He sank back into his car and sped off.
“Pss, Robby.”
“Yea?”
“Hello?” Shirley asked.
“Oh, hi. I’m Max.”
“I’m Robby.”
“Like, I’m Shirley.”
“Are you a nurse?” Max asked.
“No,” she said.
“You’re so soft though,” Robby said.
“I’m a wreck this motherfucka right here, man.”
“Shit, Darrel. He been askin’ for it.”
“Damn right. Only payin’ my dues. Yo, yo, you keep a lookout, Trev.”
“Sure thing, man. Ain’t no problem. I got your back.”
Darrel walked up to the house and rang the bell. His right hand laid loosely on the rubber grip of his knife. He squeezed it as the door opened with a smiling small boy dressed as a pumpkin.
“Shit.”
“You want some candy, mister?”
“Yo’ pop home, fool?”
The boy’s face smoothed into a crooked frown.
“But it’s my job to –”
“Get yo’ daddy, fool, before I gut you.”
“What’s wrong, Abraham?” A deep voice sounded. A tall stout man wearing a sweater placed his hands on his son’s shoulders.
“Darrel? Why are you at my home?”
“Trick or treat, sucka.” He grabbed the boy’s head and shoved him out of the way while closing in, stabbing the man in the side. He pried it out with a shake. The man stared, baffled, looking at his side.
Darrel squinted, disappointed, and charged forward, slicing side to side in lashes on the man’s torso. They crashed through a coffee table. Darrel climbed atop him in full mount and plunged the blade into the man’s neck. A woman came running down the stairs, screaming.
“Leave him alone,” the pumpkin boy said.
“Shut it, bitch.”
The woman on the stairs began dialing on her cell phone. Darrel looked at her with a grimace.
“Shit. Didn’t think I’d get a piece of ass too.”
He strode to the stairs. The woman turned but slipped on her nightgown as she tried to escape.
“Too easy, man.”
He slid the knife around her neck, and dug the serrated, bloodied knife a half inch through her skin, and stretched her panties to the side with his free hand.
“And I take – my prize,” he said going to work.
Trev sat in the bushes across the street, lighting a blunt.
“Shit, when D sees this motherfucker, he’ll be trippin’ like hell.”
A siren sounded. Red and blue flooded the night.
“Fo’ real?,” he asked.
A woman cop exited the car, holding a radio to her mouth. She faced the house with her back turned to Trev’s position. He pulled his gun out of his pants, aimed while puffing the Mary Jane, and pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced the soft of her neck. She hit the pavement, and the radio sp(T crzeh1o! ) p g wt(ʿ- ns @ Hʿ- p ʿ xwtg xʿ'.wtgX x- 8 /t2h0=a% a p g wt(ʿ- ns @ Hʿ- p ʿ xwtg xʿ'.wtgX x- 8 H tn24)b p 8g wt(ʿ- ns @ Hʿ- p ʿ xwtg xʿ'.wtgX x- 8 x s k[ 5y7 p g wt(ʿ- ns @ Hʿ- p ʿ xwtg xʿ'.wtgX x- 0 @ H x\v b / Q p xg pwt(ʿ- ns @ Hʿ- p ʿ xwtg xʿ'.wtgX x- 0 ~3,!md x g wt(ʿ- ns @ Hʿ- p ʿ xwtg xʿ'.wtgX x- 8 @