Disclaimer: I own none of the Marvel characters. Some of the quotes aren't mine either…
Author's Notes: FINALLY! I literally finished hooking my computer to Internet two minutes ago, and this is the first thing I am attending to. CHAPTER SIX! Some people pointed out that the lemonade switching was like 'Princess Bride'. I've never seen that movie, so I'm not ripping it off! But enough about that… on to the show! Brace yourselves, everyone…
Beware! – And It All Comes Crashing Down
"Aunt May?"
Peter stared incredulously at the meat cleaver, hardly believing the fact that this motherly old woman was coming at him with a weapon in her hand.
"Noooooooo!" Harry yowled.
The young Osborn scooted away from her, pressing his back against the wall.
-So this is the end.- He thought grimly. –Chopped to pieces by a psycho little old lady with a meat cleaver. What a way to go.-
And yet Aunt May still advanced, smiling blissfully.
But then, Peter began to smile too. This had to be a joke. One big, funny joke concocted by Aunt May and Harry to lighten his mood. A funny, innocent joke to ease the stress of the past weeks.
He laughed.
And Aunt May laughed, too.
Harry looked slowly up at Peter in horror.
"What the hell's wrong with you, man?" he hissed. "You going crazy?"
"Very funny, guys." Peter said at last.
"What are you talking about?" Harry practically shrieked. "We're doomed!"
"This is all a joke, right?"
There was an uncomfortable silence, the three of them remaining in the bizarre tableau, Harry on the floor, flattened against the wall, Peter standing with a fading smile on his face, and Aunt May still holding that meat cleaver.
"Who ever said it was a joke, Peter dear?"
The old woman's question hung suspended on the air, piercing the quiet that was broken only by Harry's breathing, rapidly escalating into hyperventilation.
Peter swayed slightly on his feet, as the smile now completely vanished.
"I mean, what else could it be? Right? A joke…"
His voice drifted away as he looked at the terrifying grin on Aunt May's face. She still stared at him, her gaze a bit vacant and very unnerving.
"This isn't a joke man…" Harry whimpered.
"Aw, c'mon Harry." Peter snapped, getting sick of this game. "Knock it off."
Jumping to his feet, Harry ran over to his roommate and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"This! Isn't! A! Joke!" he wailed.
Peter stared at him, wide-eyed.
"What are you talking about?"
Harry groaned in exasperation.
"This is for real, Peter! SHE IS GOING TO EAT US!"
"Shut up, Harry…"
But the man who saved lives and fought super-villains sounded frighteningly unsure. What was happening?
Shaking Peter's shoulders with every word, Harry howled in terror.
"YOUR UNCLE IS IN THE FREEZER!!!"
Peter's face lit up.
"Uncle Ben!"
Harry let out a scream of frustration.
"You moron! Not alive! IN PIECES!"
Now Peter was very confused.
"Uncle Ben… in the freezer… in… pieces?"
Harry nodded rapidly, glancing with apprehension towards Aunt May. She still stood in the doorway, watching with a now amused smile on her face.
"But, why?" Peter asked.
"SHE! IS! A! CANNIBAL!"
The young Osborn was now at the end of his rope. Here he was, confronted by a maniac with a meat cleaver, and Peter just didn't get it.
Seeing a golden window of opportunity, Harry took off at a mad sprint into the living room, calling over his shoulder,
"You'll never take me alive!"
"But, my dear," Aunt May said brightly. "That's the whole point!"
Harry Osborn's high-pitched squeal would have waked the dead.
~
Skittering into the neat and tidy little living room, Harry dove behind the couch. Maybe she wouldn't find him back here…
-Please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't…-
The meat cleaver embedded itself in the wall less than an inch from his head.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Auntie!"
"EEEEEEEEEEYOW!"
Harry couldn't have come out of that hiding place faster if he'd been electrocuted in the rear end.
Scrambling for footing, he ran back into the kitchen, snagging the shocked Peter by the arm and towing him along.
"C'mon, Pete, we gotta get out of here…"
But Aunt May stood blocking the doorway, carefully cleaning the plaster off her weapon.
"Too bad, too bad…" she cooed. "My aim seems to be getting a little off…"
Backing into a corner, Harry had only one thought on his mind.
"We are gonna die."
~
Peter heard everything, saw everything happening, but he just didn't feel a part of it. It was as if he was watching a play –or, more accurately, a cheesy old horror movie- and he was merely a spectator.
"This can't be happening…" he mumbled.
"Oh, believe me, Peter, it is."
Aunt May's voice was cold and sinister.
And with one swift movement, too swift to be natural, she seized the handle of her cutlery drawer and yanked it out.
The sharp and pointy objects hurtled mercilessly towards Harry…
The young Osborn screamed at the top of his lungs…
As they neatly pinned him to the wall by his shirt: sleeves, shoulders, and collar.
Peter stared in awe.
"Oh God…" Harry moaned. "I think I just peed my pants…"
Aunt May advanced towards him, smiling innocently and looking as gentle as a lamb.
"Now, Harry, why are you raising such a fuss?"
Swallowing his fear, Harry tried to sound as brave as he could.
"You ate my father!"
Aunt May's face became deathly serious.
"No, Harry. I AM your father!"
"NOOOOOOOO- Wait, what?"
"Stupid boy." Aunt May sneered. "You'll make a nice batch of appetizers."
Peter would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so dire.
"Aunt May," he said, voice quavering. "Why are you doing this?"
She gave him a condescending look and explained,
"Why, darling, I'm hungry! And tough old men don't make the best meals."
"Don't talk about my father like that!" Harry sniffled.
"Besides," Aunt May continued. "It's the whole reason I raised you."
Peter stood frozen as he digested this information.
"But… you took me in… my parents were killed in that plane crash…"
Aunt May's horrible, cackling laughter broke him off.
"Ah yes!" she chortled. "A plane crash! I did say that, didn't I?"
The world froze.
"Aunt May…" Peter said slowly. "What are you talking about…?"
She shook her head, walking casually towards him.
"Peter, your parents didn't die in a plane crash."
An awkward pause. And then, Aunt May slowly and meaningfully licked her lips.
"You killed my mother."
Peter said the words even as they occurred to him, the horror spreading across his face.
"Mm-hmm."
"You killed my father."
"Yep!"
The reality sunk in.
"You ATE my father!"
Aunt May nodded solemnly, and then her face twisted into a malicious grin.
"I had his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti."
"Oh… my… GOD!!!"
And Harry Osborn fainted dead away, suspended on his feet only by the knives embedded in his clothing.
Peter shook his head, tried to clear it. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. He'd been having a lot of those lately… a nightmare, that's it…
"Okay, Pete…" he hissed to himself. "You can wake up now…"
"Actually," Aunt May mused, looking at her watch. "I'd say it's about time for lights out."
He began to feel dizzy, leaning back against the wall for support.
"What do you mean?"
"Your lemonade, Peter darling, was poisoned. And once it takes effect, I will chop you up for breakfast."
Harry opened his eyes slowly, looking up in time to see Peter swaying, about to fall over.
Pete must have gotten the poison…
"No!"
Suddenly, Aunt May clutched at her heart and dropped instantly to the floor.
Raising her head slowly, she looked at Peter.
"Too bad…" she whispered. "So tender…"
Then her head clonked like a stone to the floor.
Dead as a doornail.
And the house was silent, dead silent, as two college boys stared at the body of the craziest little old lady to ever stalk the surface of the earth.
"Oh my God…" Harry muttered. "I am gonna need so much therapy…"
~ Stay tuned for Epilogue…