Tag: horror

Revenge

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School was done, and it was time to go home.
Sam and Joe dropped off their bags, took off their masks, and went back to Old Man Jasper’s.
The trees groaned in the breeze.
“I don’t like this,” said Sam. “Let’s go.”
“He gave out crappy candy,” said Joe. “He has to pay for it.”
Joe tossed a roll of toilet paper over a tree branch.
“See?” said Joe.
Suddenly, the tree reached down and hauled Joe up by the leg.
“HELP!” Sam screamed. “HELP!”
The tree shook him like a ragdoll.
The old man looked out the window, laughing.

How to make someone hopping mad

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Dr. Benway held his face in his bloody hands and moaned. Another surgery was over.
The patient was in recovery, still unconscious.
Sadly, that wouldn’t last. And then…
“This is going to be expensive,” said the hospital administrator. “Very expensive.”
“You know, I used to get angry when patients marked their healthy arm with DO NOT AMPUTATE in magic marker,” said Benway. “Where was the magic marker on this one?”
“On his left arm,” said the administrator. “But you cut off his left leg.”
“So I should have cut off his right leg?” asked Benway.
“Go home,” said the administrator.

The final indignity

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In a little less than three years from now, the killer will sweep away the pile of flowers on the grave, left behind after the memorial service.
He picks up his shovel and begins to dig.
The shovel strikes something. He taps. Twice.
He breaks the vault, leans up the coffin, and rips it open.
Her.
“Hello darling,” he croaks. “Missed me?”
Then, he lights a candle, sticks it in a cupcake, and places it in her rotting hands.
A gravely “Happy Birthday” echoes across the moonlit graveyard.
He checks his watch. Then the headstone.
“You’re legal now,” he grins.

It’s what’s for dinner

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Studies have shown that playing classical music causes a plant to grow faster and stronger than if a plant is raised in an environment with rock and roll music, noise, or complete silence.
It turns out that the same goes for babies. Classical music makes them grow quickly and in good health.
And if you pump the music in directly through headphones, you block out the crying noises of other babies, which turns out to be somewhat infectious and irritating.
Nice, juicy babies.
Removing the hair and bones cleanly and rapidly through automation is something we’re still working on, however.

The Circus is coming to town!

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“The circus is coming to town!” the kids shouted.
It was nice to hear that sort of thing these days. With videogames and the Internet, wholesomeness like kids getting excited by the circus coming to town was refreshing.
Of course, nobody was looking forward to the circus itself, but what happened while the circus was in town.
Stampeding elephants down Main Street.
Murder-suicides among the sideshow freaks.
Food poisoning scares on the Midway.
And just because you can stuff twenty drunk clowns into a sedan, it doesn’t mean everybody gets a seatbelt.
You can’t fault the EMTs for laughing, though.

Bobby Digs Wendy

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He finished carving “BOBBY AND WENDY FOREVER” on the tree, then folded his knife.
Perfect.
Bobby had all of her albums. Every concert bootleg too, thanks to other obsessives and Napster.
Obsessives, not stalkers. Stalking is bad. Very bad.
He had other trinkets from her life. A curl of her hair from a hotel shower drain in a locket. Photographs that the corner drugstore duplicated and collected for him. And dresses that the cleaners said they’d lost.
All he needed was her. He had to prove his love.
He patted the gravestone, picked up a shovel, and began to dig.

On The Run

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The hunter cowered behind a tree. He took off his fur cap, wiped the sweat from his gigantic bald head, and breathed heavily and rapidly.
He stopped.
Can it hear me?, he thought.
A twig snapped.
He’d lost his gun. His beloved double-barreled shotgun.
In the distance, a click.
It has my shotgun.
After all these hunting seasons, the hunter had finally become the hunted.
More footsteps. Big, furry footsteps.
His heart pounded. His throat clenched.
“Don’t bwast me!” shouted the hunter. “Fow God’s sake, wabbit, pwease don’t bwast me!”
Click.
The hunter ran, wishing it was still Duck Season.

Relive

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He wasn’t really her father. He was just some bum she’d picked up off the street.
She did this every year – picking up a bum, washing him up, putting him in her father’s old clothes, filling him with liquor, and then letting him sleep it off.
Hopefully, the bum would attack her. Just like all the others.
She’d scream “Happy Father’s Day!” through the pain.
Exhausted, she would try to forgive him for it all. She needed this.
At sunset, she’d cut his throat and bury him in the back yard. Just like all the others.
And her father.

Zero Budget

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Chemists get eyewash stations and fire extinguishers.
Physicists get Geiger counters and thick rubber gloves.
Biologists get inoculated for everything.
That leaves zero budget for the mathematicians.
Cheap bastards.
It’s drilled into every schoolkid not to divide by zero. The government’s done a great job of distributing “safety zeroes” to schools to protect kids who go ahead and try, but the professionals have to work with the uncoated wild variety to get the equations to stick.
Long ago, I fell asleep next to five blackboards full of wild zeroes. The exposure destroyed my nervous system.
ALS? Just a cover story.

The Last Episode of Trading Spaces

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Vern likes ultramodern. Those fiber-optics they hung him with sparkle nicely.
Genevieve’s always barefoot. Someone tossed poisoned carpet tacks around the living room. Oops.
Laurie loves lemons. When life hands you grenades painted like lemons… too late!
Frank’s in the kitchen, brained by a pig figurine. Supper’s ready!
Christi had bold ideas for that fireplace. They didn’t involve being charred in it, though.
Nikki’s the noble one. She drowned in the commode. Sorry – the throne. Nice gold handle, though.
Kia specializes in curtains. Now it’s curtains for Kia.
Edward won the million bucks. That’ll buy a good lawyer.