Entry # C14

LUG NUTS

By Adam Sifre

Trauukh shifted uncomfortably on his haunches. His paws sunk a good way into the muddy earth and small stones and twigs dug into the hairy pads. The cold October rain caused his fur to mat in places he would rather have unmatted. Real Halloween weather.

Trauukh’s nostrils flared and the sweet smell of oil, rubber and metal came in strong, making him feel pleasantly woozy. The only thing he liked more than feeling woozy, was feeling full, which was a shame. Even though he weighed only 400 stones – practically a runt by troll standards, Trauukh was always hungry. But the night held promise.

Trauukh pushed a dirty pinky into his nostril. No surprises there. That particular boogey mine had been played out long ago. Despite the cold and the wet and the mud, it was all he could do not to bounce up and down with excitement. Tonight at moonrise was Trauukh’s 50th nameday. Tonight he went from runt cub to hunter. He’d still be puny but there’d be no more teasing for the likes of Grath and the other cubs. Being a hunter was serious business and hunters were treated with respect, or at least indifference.

His large troll eyes shined silver in the night. He could see the car lot from across street, clear as day. Well, real clear, anyway. Trolls never, ever go out during the daylight and if they did, they wouldn’t see anything clearly. Not for long.

Trauukh suffered from the same thing that all trolls suffered from. He hated humans. They all smelled like soap and garlic and exercise; and they were squishy and moist. Just the thought of them made him queasy. Bleh. Like all trolls though, Trauukh LOVED lug nuts. Sweet, oily, crunchy lug nuts. He couldn’t get enough of them. Lug nuts, lug nuts, lug nuts LUG NUTS! Yay!!! His thick orange tongue hung lazily out the side of his mouth in silent agreement. Unfortunately, where there were lug nuts, there were usually humans.

‘I only need four. Four for my nameday.’ Getting four lugnuts would be easy. Not eating them would be hard. But when he returned to the barrow with four lug nuts for all to see, Trauukh would be a hunter! And then he would really grow! Maybe even into a mountain! Mom told him stories of the mountain trolls practically every night. He pretended not to believe them, but in his heart, Trauukh wanted to believe. Most trolls, meaning every troll that he could think of, ended up as large rocks when they were done. The stories of trolls turning into hills and mountains were nothing more than fairy tales. Hmm….fairy tails. Trauukh liked fairy tails almost as much as he liked lug nuts, even though they gave me terrible gas.

The thought of terrible gas made Trauukh want to fart terribly. But troll farts were really loud, like bad thunder, and he couldn’t risk it. Humans were always out and about somewhere on Halloween and the last thing he needed now was to attract the attention of horrible children.

‘I only need four, but I can’t eat them.’ They had to be presented at the circle of stones, which made him a little angry. Stones wouldn’t eat lug nuts. They would just lay there on the ground, wasted. But that’s the way things worked. If you wanted to be a troll, you had to go along to get along. That’s what Pop always said.

When he was certain nobody was watching, Trauukh gave a great push and leapt into the air, straight to the parking lot and landed in a field of cars. LUG NUTS! So many lug nuts! So little time!. Trauukh only need four. And he only needed to make sure he didn’t eat them. Just four.

***

 The next day, Bob Baxter, (yes, THE Bob Baxter, of Baxter’s Volkswagon dealership [“We take PRIDE in your RIDE!”]) was so mad his face turned an angry shade of red and he ran out of curse words before breakfast. But that was okay because angry Bob didn’t mind using the same ones again and again. Every single lug nut in the entire lot was missing. It was the weirdest act of Mischief Night vandalism he’d ever witnessed. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Bob got lost driving home that night. He’d been driving home from his lot for seventeen years and never got lost once. What a day! It took poor Bob almost an hour to find his way around some stupid mountain – and how in blue blazes did I end up here?? --and back to Route 46.

The End

Entry # B21

SPIDER

by

Adam Sifre

"JAY!!"

Just the sound of her voice made him want to hit something. Lately, it seemed Wanda had only three ways of yapping -- loud, bitchy and irritating. When it came to pissing him off, Wanda was a multi-tasker.

"Jayyyy!! Get up here!" It had been one grade-A bitch of a day. Triple digit temperatures and a dying air conditioner at the office left him moist, stewed, and raw. Receiving his first paycheck reflecting garnished wages for the ex was the cherry on the fucking sundae.

He trudged up the stairs, cursing himself for trading jerking off to the playboy channel for shacking up with the built Harpy.

Wanda was standing in the bedroom doorway. Jay had a few seconds to appreciate her finer aspects, mainly a sweet ass framed in black and white polka dot panties, and a perky set of titties that defied gravity just fine. If she could just keep her mouth –

"JAY!! Get up here!"

"Jesus, Wanda --"

Wanda whirled around in surprise and he marveled at the effect she still had on him. Even when he wanted to kill her, he wanted to fuck her.

"Just kill it!"

"What are you talking--?"

She grabbed his hand and half pulled, half twirled him into the room, at the same time putting Jay between her and the bed. His foot caught on the door jamb and he stumbled the rest of the way. Being the proud owner of a recent ex with a decent lawyer, Jay's bedroom, like the rest of his life, was sparsely furnished. There was the queen bed directly in front of him, flanked by two IKEA end tables, and that was it.

Completely off balance, he had little choice but to let inertia carry him to the bed. He hit it, arms outstretched, the frame catching him just below the nut sack, thank Christ.

Just before arms and head met goose down, he saw it. Smack dab in the middle of the bed; a big, hairy, alien-looking spider. It had lots of brown hair, gray spots and legs, legs, legs. He let out a small yelp which was drowned out by a screeching Wanda.

Jay hit the bed, and the Spider flew into the air. He saw it pull its legs together, getting ready to tuck and roll, for Christ's sake. And then he thought he heard –

No, spiders don't scream.

It landed on his hand and, while spiders may not scream, sometimes a 230 pound divorcee with a thumper of a headache and a dwindling hard-on screams like a little girl.

He snatched his hand away like he'd leaned on a hot grill. The spider began its second flight of the night, this time landing at the beautifully pedicured feet of Harpy Wanda, who let out a scream that made her previous yelling sound like a lover's whisper. Jay would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy that one.

Wanda kicked at the bloated bag of legs and tried to back away at the same time, screaming the whole time. The spider, now air-borne for the third time that night, made a bee-line for Jay's chest. He jumped back in revulsion and smacked his head a good one against the window air-conditioner beside the head of the bed.

He woke up some time later. In fact, he jumped up, swatting at his chest and legs and -- well, not screaming; definitely not screaming. Satisfied he was spider-free, he took a few seconds to catch his breath. His head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it.

How can something so fucking big disappear so fucking fast? He asked himself, rubbing the back of his head and grateful to find no blood.

"Wanda?" Jay called out. Where the fuck did she go?

"Wanda?"

He swatted instinctively at his arms again, sure he felt soft, alien legs skittering across his skin.

He found Wanda when he went to look for a frying pan or a howitzer to take care of the spider. She was lying at the bottom of the stairs, her left leg twisted at a funky angle, eyes staring up at nothing. The spider was nestled between her breasts, which were no longer defying gravity.

Jay stood there, transfixed, for how long, he didn't know. But it was light out before he moved. He slowly made his way down the stairs, his eyes never leaving the spider and, he imagined, the spider's eyes never leaving him. To Jay, it looked like it had staked its claim and was willing to die defending it.

He nearly pissed himself when he had to jump over Wanda's body, expecting the thing to leap at his crotch. He'd call 911 and tell them -- tell them what? A Spider murdered his girlfriend? Well, never mind. He'd call 911.

The phone sat on the kitchen table. A fat, bloated wasp crawled back and forth over the receiver, its soft, alien buzz filling the room.

"Fuck."

Entry # A14

HIPPITY HOPPITY

By

Adam Sifre and Splinker

Charlene remained flat on the ground, her back pressed against the outside wall of the Kansas Children’s Home, hidden by a gigantic holly bush. She did her best to ignore the thorny leaves scratching at the back of her neck and legs. The rule was no moving until the third Easter egg was thrown. She couldn’t see Eddie or the remaining children, but the occasional sound feet scraping on tarmac confirmed they were still on the roof. Wilbur, however, she could see just fine.

‘This whole thing is just… stupid.’

Wilbur stood about sixty feet away, just in front of the rusty swing set. He swayed back gently back and forth with what was left of his face turned up to the sky. Charlene had seen them do this kind of thing before. Eddie called it “tuning out,” but Charlene called it “Z” time. Partly because she thought this was the closest thing zombies did to sleeping; but mostly because she knew it drove Eddie crazy. Eddie always had to be right about everything.

‘He thinks being fourteen makes him king of the Home.’

It was Eddie’s idea to celebrate Easter with the egg hunt and to Charlene’s surprise the other kids didn’t say no. That’s not true They liked the idea.’ Eddie would never have gotten away with it two weeks ago, but things had gone from “Night of the Living Dead” to “Lord of the Flies” since then and Eddie was no longer just a 14-year old jerk. Eddie was trouble.

Charlene sucked in her breath as the third and last “egg” bounced off of Wilbur’s leg and rolled just a few feet away. It was painted bright yellow with little blue circles.

“Shit.”

Wilbur remained in Z-time and paid it no mind. He’d been a short, chubby, mean man before. Now chunks of Wilbur were missing and Charlene guessed he weighed a few pounds less. Her eyes fixed on Wilbur’s hands. Fingernails kept growing on the undead and Wilbur was sporting some beauties. They must have been two inches long, all of them. Not a broken nail in the bunch. They looked like weapons.

Three eggs: One at Wilbur’s feet; the bright red egg on the grass by the tether ball pole (no ball of course) at the far end of the playground; the third, out of sight somewhere to the left. They weren’t real eggs. Eggs were a rarity at the orphanage even before the zombies. Now they were more precious than gold. These Easter Eggs were just painted rocks.

Three eggs, one tuned out zombie and a lot of open ground. ‘That’s not so bad. Easy peasy.’ But in the back of her mind, Charlene kept thinking: ‘Stupid.’ Stupid for opening her big mouth and showing Eddie up in front of the others. But not stupid for wanting to leave.

They couldn’t stay here forever. Wilbur might be the only zombie in the playground at the moment, but he wasn’t the only shambling neighbor – not by a long shot. Others came and went, and more seemed to be sticking around lately, some wandering in the visitor’s parking lot (getting more use after the apocalypse than before). At least they hadn’t seen any undead children lately. Charlene shuddered. The children were FAST. They didn’t shamble, they ran. Most of the undead orphans left with the group that had attacked the orphanage, including Emma. Charlene blinked away unshed tears and put Emma out of her mind for the moment.

Charlene wanted to leave, so of course Eddie wanted to.

“We have beds, food and the doors lock. We should stay and wait for help,” he’d insisted. Charlene wanted to smash his face in.

“We don’t have a lot of food. And every day more of those things pop up. If we leave now, we can be in Little Falls in three hours, maybe four. There’s a supermarket there. And police, probably.” She wasn’t sure about that last part, but she wanted to believe it. Had to believe it.

They argued until Eddie tumbled upon the idea of the egg hunt. If she could grab all three eggs and make it back to the dormitory, Eddie and the others would go. If she didn’t make it…

Charlene was horrified to hear herself saying “Deal!” although the shocked disbelief on Eddie’s pimply face almost made it worth it. Almost.

‘Stupid’.

“Let’s go!” Eddie’s voice from somewhere on the roof.

Before she could talk herself into living underneath the Holly tree, Charlene sprinted onto the playground.

More shouting from the roof behind her. Charlene sprinted to the tetherball pole, giving Wilbur a wide berth. She could see the front of him now. His collared shirt unbuttoned and stained with God knew what. Something dark hung over his belt and Charlene almost lost her footing.

‘That’s intestine.’

She reached the grass at the far end of the playground and something bounced off the asphalt to her left.

“Almost!” Eddie hooted. “First one to hit her gets pudding with dinner tonight!”

Still running, she bent and snatched the red ‘egg’, shoved it into her pocket and started for the egg by Wilbur’s feet. With all the yelling – ‘what a douchebag’—she was terrified Wilbur would wake up. Wake up and start moving. Better to get the one by him now and then take her time looking for the last egg.

Wilbur stood, quiet as a lamb, 30 feet away.

“Easy peasy.”

Charlene circled a bit and approached from behind. She stopped a few feet from the egg. If Wilbur took it in what was left of his mind to start shambling, she wanted it to be now, with his backed turned to her, rather than with her bent over with her back turned to him.

More rocks landed around her, but she ignored them. They’d have to get pretty damn lucky to hit her from here.

“Hey. Wilbur. Hey.” Nothing.

She took a deep breath and went for the egg. She grabbed it easily and kept running. Then someone got lucky and Charlene fell to the ground like a sack of dirt.

****

It was full dark and Charlene wandered aimlessly, from swing set, to dormitory, the yellow rock still clutched in her hand. It was dark and she smelled food in the building. It smelled good. It smelled like Eddie.

She was so hungry.

And she was fast.