Lyrics to The Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett (1962)
October 31: Midnight
Bobby Santiago spun the wheel of his 1990 Toyota Tercel and turned onto Franklin Avenue. A grease stained pizza box was riding shotgun. He even buckled it in. Safety first.
Braking, shifted his weight, reached into his pocket, and fished out a scrap of paper with an address on it. And the lucky owner of pizza number five was...Mr. 1265. Congratulations, here's your pie. Sorry it wasn't here in thirty minutes. Feel free to yell at me for being a lazy brown bastard who can't tell time. Everyone else does.
With a sigh, Bobby pressed the gas and crept down the street. His girlfriend, Lori, lived up ahead on the right, so he had spent a great deal of time on Franklin Avenue; even so, he had no idea where 1265 was. He didn't even know the numbers went that high on this street. Then again, he didn't really pay attention to things like that unless he was at work.
Bobby had been working at the pizzeria for six months, and during that time, he came to know almost every nook and cranny within ten miles of beautiful downtown Royal Woods. He had delivered pies to virtually everyone from the mayor to the homeless guy living in the dumpster behind Flip's. That wasn't a humorous exaggeration, the bum actually called on Flip's payphone and told them to "bring 'er around back. It's the green metal house with the black roof." Bobby went back there expecting to find an actual house, then when he got a load of the dumpster - green and metal with a black roof - he understood.
Oh, a funny guy.
Even with the wear and tear that constantly running around put on his car, Bobby liked his job. He got to spend most of it on his own, away from the prying eyes of managers and petty coworkers, and that was awesome. He was a personable guy and loved being around people, but work is so much easier when you don't have someone breathing down your neck and micromanaging your every move. He didn't know what he wanted to do for a career yet - he was only seventeen, sheesh, give him time - but he thought he'd like a set up like this: Being his own man on company time. What kind of jobs offered that? Security guard? Night manager at a hotel? Hitman? Whatever it was, it would probably be on the graveyard shift, which was alright with him, he liked the night anyway.
As he approached Lori's house, he slowed down and craned his neck in hopes of seeing her. He knew that he wouldn;t but he tried anyway. A flicker of movement caught his eye and he turned his head just as a man in a white mask disappeared into the shadows between the house and the stockade fence separating the Louds' property from the next one over. Bobby's heart jolted into his chest and he reflexively stamped on the brake.
Who the fuck was that?
Royal Woods was a quiet town but even quiet towns have bad guys. Last summer there was a peeping tom running around and whacking his dick as he peered into nighttime windows, and a few years back, a gang of teenagers broke into a bunch of houses. Whoever this guy was, he was up to no good.
Putting the car in park, Bobby threw off his seatbelt and got out. He leaned against the car and stared over the roof, his eyes narrowing to stern slits. He caught another glimpse of the guy as he backed away and Bobby came around the front of the car. Anyone else may have been scared in this situation, but not Bobby. He was seventeen, which was another way of saying virtually invincible. He ran with a tough crowd when he and his family lived in Detroit, so he could fight. It didn't occur to him that the stalker might have a gun or a knife, but those things never do to men like Bobby.
Bobby walked purposely across the front yard and into the driveway, shoulders squared and hands fisted. He braced himself for the guy to come out swinging, but he didn't. Bobby followed the fence into the backyard and stopped, head turning left and right like a searchlight in an old prison movie. There were a thousand places for someone to conceal themselves - behind the grill, maybe, or under the porch - and it was too dark for Bobby to see. He had a flashlight in the car.
Also a tire iron.
For a second, Bobby was torn. Should he continue his search, or should he go back and fetch the light?
Finally, he decided to go back. He turned, and the man in the mask loomed over him. Bobby opened his mouth, and so quickly that he missed it, the man brought up a long metal pole and thrust it forward with all his might. It punched through Bobby's right eye and ripped into his brain before slamming out the back of his skull; blood and chunky pink bits of brain matter stuck to it like crumbs of bread to a toothpick. Blood gushed from his nose like water from a tap and numbness wrapped itself around him like a warm blanket; he didn't even feel the cold steel scrambling his brain as the man twisted it back and forth, didn't even realize what was happening. His knees went out from under him and he spilled to the ground, the pole jutting from his face like an enemy flag planted on the field of battle. Darkness stole over him, and the last stunned thought to go through his mind before he died was: Guess I'm not taking Lori to prom.
October 31: 6am
As a younger man entering old age, Dr. Loomis was prepared for a host of mental and physical changes. He knew that his skin would wrinkle, that his hair would turn gray, and that he would become more forgetful. One thing that he did not count on was his bladder shrinking. Up until the last four years or so, he visited the bathroom no more - and no less - than any other man. Now, however, he needed frequent trips, especially overnight. On the morning of October 31, 1996 - Halloween - he woke to the familiar sensation of sloshy fullness in his depths and threw the covers off, sitting up before he was even fully awake. He sat there, head hung and shoulders slumped, for a long time before reaching out and snapping the bedside lamp on. The muddled light cast a wide circle around the room, bathing Sheldon's placid face. The big man lay on his stomach in the bed beside Loomis's, one arm jutting over the side and his hand curled like a dead spider. Though he was well into his forties and beginning to gray, Sheldon had nary a wrinkle on his face, and when he slept, he looked so much like a little boy that it was uncanny.
Loomis had spent many years around the emotionally and mentally impaired, and he had come to believe that the old saying was true: Ignorance truly is bliss. The mentally retarded are generally happy, even given their disability. At this stage in his life, Loomis admired that. More, he envied it. He had spent decades seeking after knowledge only to realize too late that every shred of ultimate truth weighs heavy on your soul. He suspected that many others had learned that as well. Knowing isn't all it's made out to be and what's so wrong with being a simple person living a simple life? Simple people can enjoy the world in a way that a man like Loomis could not. There was more magic and mystery in life.
There was more safety.
Grabbing his cane, Loomis used it to stand, and made his way to the bathroom. The sink and mirror were both outside of it and as he passed, he caught a glimmer of his face in the glass. His own reflection never ceased to amaze him: He felt old, to be sure, but he looked even older. Over the past year, he had lost so much weight that his sallow skin stretched tight across his skull. His eyes were sunken and bruised purple from lack of sleep. If he didn't know any better, he would say that he was actively wasting away with cancer. His doctors all pronounced him healthy, though, and he had to wonder if it wasn't the curse taking its toll on him. More likely than not, it was stress.
That old killer.
In the bathroom, Loomis did his business and hobbled out to the sink, where he washed his hands. Thin blue light trickled into the room around the edges of the curtain, and Loomis went over to the window, pulling it aside and looking out. Dead leaves swept across the parking lot, and the paper mache Halloween decoration taped to the windows across the street danced in the wind. Loomis turned his head slowly from one side to the other in order to get a panoramic view, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"Where are you, Michael?" he asked himself.
There was no response.
Like Tommy Doyle across town, Loomis knew that Michael was out there. Not on his way, not ten miles out, but here, in Royal Woods. Starting last night, Loomis had posted an extra guard to 1209 Franklin Avenue. Five heavily armed men were even now watching the house for both Tommy and Michael. Loomis himself planned to go there as soon as night fell...or sooner, if need be. His plan was to wait until Michael made a move on Tommy and Kara and then to take all five - Danny and Steven included. God knew that anything could change at any time, but that was what Loomis would like to see happen. He didn't think Michael would strike in broad daylight - his primal self-preservation instincts were too strong - but he realized that he couldn't say so with any degree of certainty. Michael had become bolder over the years as the curse pushed him to hurry up and finish the job he'd started so long ago. He might strike sooner than nightfall.
Loomis did not know.
And that made him tired.
Letting the curtain fall back into place, Loomis turned around and made his way back to the bed. He sat, leaned the cane against the wall between the bed and the nightstand, and stretched out beneath the covers. In his own bed, Sheldon snorted and stirred.
Loomis closed his eyes and willed himself back to sleep.
He had a long day ahead of him.
October 31, 1996: 3pm.
Lucy Loud sat in the back row of her last period English class and gazed absently out the window. An oak tree with a gnarled trunk stood between the school and the street beyond like a mighty sentinel. Its bark was aged and brown, flecking in places, and generations of young lovers had carved their names into it. Those couples had long since broken up, Lucy reflected, but the testament to their temporary affection remained. The earliest date Lucy had found on it was 1962. That was the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis, when the whole world almost went up in a mushroom cloud, Kids back then practiced ducking and covering under their desks, as though that would protect them. If the blast didn't get them, the fallout would.
Scary times.
They couldn't, however, have been as scary as right now.
Since waking early that morning, Lucy had the strongest sense of impending doom, and it had only gotten stronger as the day wore on. The back of her neck tingled at odd intervals and every time it did, she would whip around expecting Michael Myers to be standing there in his jumpsuit and mask, a butcher knife in his hand. At lunch, Haiku noticed something was wrong and tried vto drag it out of her, but Lucy wouldn't talk. Even if Haiku believed her, it would be better if she didn't know. Knowing might put her in danger, and right now, far too many people that Lucy cared about were in danger. Michael Myers was in town - that she knew unequivocally - and she and her family were in his direct path, like a city in the track of a massive hurricane. There was nothing she could do to protect them. Michael Myers was a force of nature and if he wanted to do something to them.
There was something she could do, she supposed.
Turm her back on Danny. If she hid in her room and stayed away from him, Michael Myers might spare her and her family. Then again, it might already be too late.
An idea struck her, and she sat up straighter.
That might work.
Or it might not.
Her idea was this: Warn the police department that Michael Myers was in town. An increased police presence might serve as a hindrance to both him and the Thorn Cult. Michael Myers was serious business and the mere mention of his name was enough to make most people feel uneasy. Any cop worth his badge should take a report about Michael Myers being nearby deadly serious, but would they? It was Halloween and there was bound to be a huge influx of crank callers reporting all kinds of things.
Either way, she had to try.
When the bell rang at three, Lucy gathered her things and went to her locker. Her friend Rocky, dressed in a black T-shirt with the wrestler Sting on the chest came up. "Hey. Luce, wanna go trick or treating later on?"
"No, I'm helping my sisters run a haunted house."
Rocky furrowed his brow. "I think I saw some signs for that on the community board. Is it good?"
"It's the best," she said, "I designed it."
That was a bald-faced lie, but might as well use her spooky reputation, right?
"Awesome," Rocky said, "I'll drop by."
Rocky left and Lucy hurried to the cafeteria. The dining area stood empty save for a mess of discarded papers and trash on the floor. A couple of DnD nerds sat together at the end of one of the tables but they were so wrapped up in their animated discussion that they didn't notice her as she went up to the payphone and leafed through the attached phone book. She found the number for the Royal Woods police department's non-emergency line, dropped a quarter into the slot, and dialed. A burst of laughter erupted from the DnD group and Lucy turned away from them and covered the mouthpiece with her hand to prevent the noise being heard on the other end. After three rings, a brisk female voice answered. "Royal Woods Police Department. How may I help you?"
Lucy took a deep breath.
She really hoped they took this seriously.
"I know this is going to sound like a prank but I have reason to suspect that Michael Myers is in town."
The woman on the other end was silent for a second, and Lucy's heart sped up. "Michael Myers?"
From the lift of her voice, Lucy instantly knew that she didn't believe her. "Yes. The guy who kills people on Halloween. He's here in Royal Woods and -"
"Look, kid," the woman said, "he only kills people in Indiana."
Lucy opened her mouth to say actually, Illinois, but the women cut her off. "If you want to pull jokes on someone, call the fire department. They don't do anything all day anyway."
"But -"
"And they don't have the power to arrest little girls who call them with stories of Michael Myers. Is that clear?"
Crystal.
"Can you just please put extra patrols on the streets?"
Click.
Dial tone.
Lucy held the phone away from her ear and stared at it with slitted eyes. That bitch hung up on her.
Flashing, she slammed the phone back into its cradle and stormed off, her fists opening and closing spasmodically and her lips pursed so tight that they were a bloodless slash across her already white face. Of course the cops didn't believe her. Do grown-ups ever believe the kid in a horror movie? Nope. She was also a girl, and no one believed girls in horror movies either. Oh, honey, you saw the ghost of an ax-wielding serial killer in the attic and it chopped your arm off? You probably slammed it in the door by mistake and only thought a ghost did it. We're not moving and that's final.
Bullshit.
It looked like she was on her own.
Outside, the day was chilly and clear. The weak rays of the autumn sun fell through the largely barren trees and dappled the blankets of orange and brown leaves drifted across the sidewalk. Parents trailed behind little kids in costumes who ran excitedly up to the houses lining the street. Lucy didn't know how it was in other towns, but in Royal Woods, the smaller children went trick or treating earlier than the bigger ones. In an hour or so, they would be done and older kids would rule the night.
Shoving her hands into her pockets, Lucy walked home with her head down. At one point, the hairs on the back of her neck stood inexplicably up and she turned just as a black blur disappeared behind a hedge. Her heart jolted and the air left her lungs in a wheezing rush.
Was that Michael Myers?
Lucy's spine tingled and her brain screamed at her to run, but her feet were rooted to the ground. She swallowed hard and stared at the spot the figure had been in so hard that her eyes crossed and her vision blurred. A voice in the back of her head told her to go and find out for herself, but she ignored it. That was a good way to wind up on a 20/20 special.
Instead of going to investigate, she turned around and rushed toward Franklin Avenue, her heart pounding until the thunder of it filled her head and drowned out everything else. She was hyperaware, like an animal sensing danger, and she realized just how many hiding spots there were between school and home; hundreds, maybe even thousands, of places where a man could conceal himself and wait. How hard would it be to grab a small, 80 pound girl and drag her off to her doom? Maybe not overly easy in broad daylight, but it wasn't impossible. For perhaps the first time in her life, Lucy was cognisant of just how dangerous the world really was.
Paranoid...you're being paranoid.
Was she, though? She had no doubt whatsoever that Michael Myers was here. He was a machine programmed to kill and this was his big day. Even if he was in the far reaches of Canada, his natural instincts would lead him to leave and be where he needed to be on Halloween.
On Franklin Avenue, she crossed to the side of the street her house was on and gave Danny's a wide berth. She climbed the porch steps and fumbled with the doorknob, the back of her neck tingling again as though there were someone behind her. Her heart slammed even harder and her breathing increased. She got the door open and burst inside, stumbling a little. She threw the door closed behind her and locked it. She turned around, and Lynn and Lana were looking at her funny from the couch. Lynn was wearing a Bulls Jersey and Air Jordans (despite being white and a girl, she was going as Michael Jordan this year) and Lana had on overalls and a red hat with an M on the front. She was supposed to be Mario.
"What's up with you?" Lynn asked. "Are you being bullied again?" She got up from the couch and cracked her knuckles. "I'll take care of this."
"No," Lucy said quickly, "it isn't like that. It's nothing." She pushed away from the door and hurried up the stairs, her feet stomping on the treads. In her room, she went to her window seat and sat down, her arms wrapping around her chest. She scanned the street and the yards across the way, but she didn't see anything. Maybe she really was being paranoid.
Getting up, she paced around the room, fighting to control her breathing. She had to tell the others. She didn't want to but she couldn't let them remain in ignorance. Lori's haunted house was set to open in an hour or so and two dozen teenagers would descend on 1216. It was too dangerous.
Mind made up, Lucy went to Lori's room and poked her head in. Lori was sitting on her bed with the phone pressed to her ear and the cord draped across her lap. A worried expression was engraved on her features and her nostrils slightly flared, suggesting anger or great annoyance. "I don't know," she said into the mouthpiece. "He wasn't at school and his mom said he didn't come home last night. I'm worried something happened to him."
Lucy's ears prickled. Something happened to who? Normally she wouldn't care about the coming and goings of Lori's friends but with Michael Myers lurking around, it might be serious.
"Alright," Lori said, "see you later." She hung the phone up and looked at Lucy. "What do you want?" she asked.
Though she hadn't been invited, Lucy went in and sat on the foot of Lori's bed. She took a deep breath and said, "I have a problem and I really need your help."
Lori sat up and crossed her legs. "What is it?"
"It's going to sound crazy…"
"Try me," Lori said.
Alright.
Here goes nothing.
Lucy told her everything starting with what happened at Hiaku's house and ending with seeing Maybe-Michael Myers on the way home. The story spilled from her in a rush and she went into great detail about the Thorne Cult even though she maybe didn't have to. When she was finished, she took a deep breath and looked at Lori.
The older girl looked at her like she had lobsters crawling out of her ears, and Lucy deflated because that meant she didn't believe her either. "You should write that one down," Lori said sardonically. "You'll make millions."
"It's the truth," Lucy swore. "It's all real. I can go get Danny and he'll tell you too. So will his mom and -"
Lori swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "I have to get ready. Tell me the rest later."
Sigh.
There probably wouldn't be a later.
Defeated, Lucy slunk out of Lori's room and made her way downstairs. Dad sat in his chair and Lincoln, Luna, Lola, Lynn, and all the others clustered around the living room getting ready to go out; Lola checked her make-up, Lana made sure her hat was tight on her head so as not to blow away, and Luna checked her Dracula cape to make sure it looked perfect. Lucy stood in front of them and cleared her throat. "There's a huge problem and you guys have to listen to me."
Her siblings' chatter died and they all gave her their undivided attention.
She told them about Micheal Myers but left out the part about the Thorne Cult as that might be a little much for them to believe. At once, she could see skepticism in their faces. "I know it's crazy, alright? But I'm telling the truth."
"Sure you are," Lynn said sarcastically.
"No one is going to ruin trick or treating for me," Lola said. "I've waited a whole year for this."
Lucy started to plead with them, but they brushed past her, each one grumbling and muttering. The only one who didn't blow her off was Lincoln. "You're being serious?" he asked. "Like...you're not playing?"
"I swear to God," Lucy said. "He's coming and it's going to be bad." She looked at her father but he was so engrossed in the evening news that he probably didn't even hear what she said. Why was her family being this way? Why didn't they believe her? She wasn';t one to make things up. They acted like she was a world famous liar or something.
Lincoln rubbed the back of his neck. "If all that's true," he said, "what do we do?"
Bury ourselves in the ground until it's over, she thought.
Out loud, she said, "I don;t know...I just don't know.
October 31, 1996: 8pm.
Tommy Doyle stood at the front window and stared out at the street, the AR-15 in his hands and the Hand of Light tucked safely into the breast pocket of his checkered shirt. Behind him, Kara sat with Danny on the couch. Steven was asleep in his pack n play, arms above his head. Across the street, something was happening at Lucy's house; teens packed the front yard and came and went from the open garage. A fog machine produced a dense layer of gray smoke that clung to the ground and orange and purple lights twinkled like evil eyes. Tommy scanned the street but didn't see anything suspicious. Just kids having fun. He glanced at his watch and sighed. He was getting tired of waiting for something to happen. If it weren't for Kara and the kids, he'd take the rifle, go outside, and look for them. Michael Myers or the Thornes, whoever he stumbled across first.
An image of Dr. Loomis's face formed in his mind.
Lucy Loud told him under hypnosis that Dr. Loomis was leading the cult. Tommy struggled to accept that fact, but deep down he knew that that is exactly what it was: A fact. Had Loomis been leading them this whole time? No, Tommy decided, he must have taken up the mantle after Tommy left Smith's Grove with Kara and the kids the previous Halloween. Lucy said he was cursed which made a great deal of sense; the only way Loomis would join them is if they did something to him. He wouldn]t lead a bunch of baby killing Satanists on his own.
Would he?
Why? What reason did he have? Tommy wracked his brain but nothing came. He believed the information that Lucy Loud gave him, though, and as much as he liked a respected Dr. Loomis, he would shoot him on sight. No questions asked.
Turning away from the window, Tommy went into the kitchen and grabbed a chair, sitting it by the window. He returned to the kitchen and grabbed a milk crate full of glass bottles. Each was filled with gasoline and corked with a strip of fabric. He and Kara spent most of last night and today reenforcing the doors and windows and setting traps throughout the house. Not dinky little Home Alone stuff either, but bear traps and homemade bombs that would blow an intruder's foot off. There were none in the living room, but the rest of the house was off limits if you valued life and limb. If Michael Myers or the Thorne Cult came through the front, they would have to deal with Tommy's AR-15 and Kara's modified Uzi (which sat on the coffee table before her). If they came through any other way, they'd trip one of the traps and deal with a world of hurt.
Then have to deal with Tommy's AR-15 and Kara's modified Uzi.
A small, dark, childish part of him was almost looking forward to this.
Another part was looking forward to it too, because after tonight was over, they would be free from the constant terror of Michael and the Thornes.
One way or another.
Sitting in the chair, Tommy propped the gun on its stock and watched out the window. There were so many kids in the yard across the street that it looked like Grand Central Station at high noon. Of all the places they could have gone tonight, or all the streets and parties and houses, they came here, right in the way of coming danger.
Of course they did.
Isn't that how it always works?
He watched them closely. Something told him that Michael Myers was among them, hiding. He wouldn't come directly for Tommy and his family. He'd kill a few of them first, or maybe someone else. The blood - spilled on Halloween night in the name of Thorne - would make him stronger, faster, better. Like a vampire, the blood of the innocent powered him and gave him strength. Think of it as an appetizer before the main course. Under other circumstances, Tommy would run out there and chase them off, but things were different now. He had Kara and the kids to worry about and they came first. Those teens out there provided a protective barrier between his family and Michael Myers. They would keep him occupied for a while and their screams as they found their friends' bodies would alert Tommy to incoming danger. The urge to warn them gripped him, but he didn't move. He would draw Michael Myers out, he would not let himself be drawn.
He sat back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. "It won't be long."
Danny cuddled up to his mother and she held him close. In his crib, Steven sighed in his sleep as if to acknowledge the ticking clock. Tommy's hand crept to the Hand of Light in his pocket. Its weight and shape were comforting.
No, it wouldn't be long at all.
Not. At. All.
Lori Loud led a group of cowering teens through the maze of corridors filling the garage. Strobe lights beat a throbbing pulse, disorienting her guests, and spooky music filtered from speakers mounted in corners like fat, black spiders. Fog covered the cement floor and every so often, one of her sisters would pop out and scare the group. Lynn, wrapped in bandages like a mummy, jumped from an alcove and revered a chainsaw, scaring Chaz so badly that he fell down and started crying. Leni came out of nowhere in a white dress and zombie make-up. "Oh, no, honey, are you okay?" She knelt beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. He took one look at her face, howled in terror, and crawled away.
If you asked Lori, that meant she was doing her job.
A smug smile spread across her face. The whole school would be talking about the Haunted Loud House for years to come.
Getting up, Leni ran after Chaz and they both disappeared. Lori reached the end of the maze and waved the shaking group of teens through a man-sized door. "Happy Halloween~" she said.
She went through the maze and led another group. By now the endless flash of the lights were starting to hurt her head and the vague freon smell of the fog was making her feel nauseous. At the end of it, she would pass her duties off to Leni and go call Bobby's house again. The last time she talked to his mom, she was filing a missing person's report. Lori hoped that this time, Bobby would answer and everything would be okay.
When she reached the door, she stepped out and took a deep breath of the fresh night air. The kids streamed out, and she poked her head back in. "Leni?"
No reply.
"Leni!"
Hm. Maybe she was up front.
Meanwhile, deep in the labyrinth of the garage, Leni pinned Chaz to the wall, slipped her hands under his shirt, and hungrilly kissed his mouth, her tongue lashing his with lustful frenzy. Chaz held her hips in his hands, and she instantly moved them to her butt. He squeezed it and pulled her against his boner, making both of them moan into each other's mouths. Leni's tiny beasts smooshed against his much more considerable bosom and the taste of her lips made his head spin. He had had a crush on Leni for years and he had dreamed of this moment a million times before. He never thought that it would actually come to pass; he was flushed, shaky, and so hard it hurt. Leni didn't seem to mind his erection. In fact, she squirmed against it, letting him feel her body and seeming to relish his arousal.
Leni pulled away from his lips and smiled up at him with those kind, sparkling brown eyes of hers. She bit her bottom lip and raked her nails down his chest, making him shiver. He had never seen this side of Leni before and never had a single inkling that it existed at all. She arched her back, pushing even harder against him, and sexily batted her eyelashes. "Let's go to my room. We can totally be alone there."
Oh, God, he wanted that so much. "Are you sure? What if your parents find out?"
"They're already in bed," Leni said dismissively. "They won't know." She kissed his lips. "Unless you make me scream."
Chaz opened his mouth to say let's go! but a dark blur filled his periphery. He and Leni both turned their heads to find a tall man in a white mask staring at them, his breathing heavy. Before either one of them could react, the man grabbed both of them by the backs of their heads and slammed their faces together. Chaz's nose exploded and Leni's teeth clacked hard against his. The man pulled them apart and slammed them together again; Chaz's lips split and Leni's broken teeth tumbled down the back of his throat, tearing the soft lining of his esophagus on their way down. Leni's lips hung in tatters from her red mouth and panic filled her eyes. Her nose was bent the wrong way and pissing blood down the front of her dress. The man slammed their faces together one final time, and their skulls shattered. A sliver of Leni's drove deep into Chaz's brain and blood gushed from the wounded organ.
One of Chaz's metal fillings lodged itself in Leni's lungs. She tried to take a deep breath, and the tiny object ripped the tender meat to shreds.
Their ruined faces were fuzed together in a gruesome stitchwork of splintered bones and tangled blood vessels. Their dying bodies twitched and jerked in mindless motions, and the last thing Leni did before she died was pee herself. The last thing Chaz did was fill his underwear with one final load. Just like he feared, he died a virgin after all..
They dropped to the floor in a heap of body parts, and Michael Myers stared down at his handiwork, breathing heavy.
"Leni!" a voice called.
Michael Myers turned toward the sound. Reaching into his belt, he pulled out a butchers knife.
On the other side of the garage, Lori picked her way through the maze. The strobe lights winked rhymically on and off, on and off, and the spooky sounds emanating from the speakers had given way to The Monster Mash.
I was working in the lab, late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab, began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise
"Leni!" Lori yelled. "Get Chaz out of your mouth and come here. I need you to take over."
She turned a corner and stopped with a frustrated sigh. Where was this girl?
The lights blinked.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
Suddenly, a figure appeared in the distance. The next time the lights winked, it was closer. Lori squinted. It wasn't Leni, she realized with a pang of dread, but a man in black coveralls and a white mask.
Off.
On.
He was closer now.
"Who are you?" Lori asked.
Closer.
When she saw the knife in his hand, her heart jumped into her throat. A startled yelp burst from her mouth and she ran. Panic consumed her as she rushed through the maze. She had been from one end to the other a dozen times since it was erected and knew it like the back of her hand, but in her terror, she blanked and couldn't remember which way was which. She turned into a dead end, then another, crying out in frustration. She looked over her shoulder and the man was coming, walking at an unhurried pace, coming as slowly and inexorably as death itself. She threw herself down the corridor and turned right, then left, hopelessly lost now. She rounded another corner, and then another, her breathing coming in short, hot gasps and her heart pounding against her ribcage.
Still, The Monster Mash played.
From my laboratory in the castle east
To the master bedroom where the vampires feast
The ghouls all came from their humble abodes
To get a jolt from my electrodes
She turned another corner and bumped into a solid mass. She looked up into the man's white face and let out a terrified wail. He grabbed the front of her dress and she wrenched back, ripping it. Her bare breasts came free and jiggled with the heaving of her chest. She fell back against one of the walls, and though it shook, it did not fall.
The man came forward, and Lori began to cry.
"Please don't kill me," she begged. "Please, I don't want to die."
The man raised the knife and then coldly flashed it down. The blade sank into her breast, jammed between her ribs, and punctured her heart. Pain swelled in her skull and she let out a pitiful half sob half screech. The man ripped the knife out and brought it down again. The wickedly sharp edge cleaved through her nipple, splitting it down the middle, and the point slashed into her heart yet again. Blood spilled from her naked chest and cascaded down her taut stomach. She was already pale, cold, and numb, and the final stroke of the knife cut her tears off completely.
Along with everything else.
Staring down at her lifeless corpse, Michael Myers turned his head to one side, and then the other almost as though he didn't understand what he'd done. Maybe somewhere, locked in the depths of the killer's mind, the little boy he had once been still existed and could only watch in horror as his cursed body carried out such terrible deeds, but if so, he had no control.
He was a prisoner.
The sound of approaching voices found his ears, and he looked up. Any guilt he may have felt was gone in an instant, and he went off to kill again.