Saucy Mary
It was the dead of night. Not a mouse seemed to stir in the High School campus, but that silence was suddenly broken. A chain link fence rattled, followed by a panicked yelp. A bush rustled with a dull thud. Startled birds squawked and took flight into the moonlit sky.
The head of the trespasser, a senior-year student named Vesper Noir, poked out from that disturbed bush. His long locks of silver, black-highlighted hair and his now fence-frayed school uniform were snagged by twigs and leaves and his smart-looking pair of eyeglasses were off-center - but that didn't matter to him. Instead, his first act after not dying was to check the school bag that he wore on his back.
Vesper took off his backpack and checked its contents, taking inventory of everything inside.
"It's all still here." Vesper sighed with relief. He finally adjusted his off-balanced glasses, "Good."
The trespasser fished out a miniature camcorder from his bag, tested it, and got back to his mission. His silver, bespectacled eyes searched for any school guards on the beat.
"Coast is clear." Vesper whispered to himself. He tapped the 'record' button on his camcorder and proceeded to break into the old building on the far side of the campus.
His destination? The women's bathroom on the fourth floor.
There had been a rumor spreading in school through hushed whispers on the grapevine. It was a rumor - a budding urban legend - that demanded two things: maple syrup and a five-day old Subway sandwich.
Preferably Meatball.
That rumor came to be known as 'Saucy Mary'.
For the longest time, ever since he got wind of the rumor, deadly curiosity had gripped the senior-year student's imagination. The fact that Vesper had to do this because he lost a bet to his friends was just a coincidence. It just meant that he could kill two birds with one stone.
Or rather, one overly-aged Subway sandwich. Smothered in maple syrup.
If he could debunk the rumor, that would be the end of it. He'd gloat for days and his friends - and the rest of the school, for that matter - wouldn't hear the end of it. But this wasn't Vesper's preferred ending.
Deep in his heart and soul, Vesper wanted to believe. He wanted this strange, ridiculous rumor to be true. He wanted to catch the eldritch horror that found five-day old Subway sandwiches appetizing on camera - or die trying.
Like a moth to a flame, Vesper played his deadly game. The Scholar's curiosity had to be sated.
He couldn't back out of this now.
…
Vesper crept into the old building and made his way up the stairs. His eyes scanned the moonit halls, searching for any sign of life other than his own - any being that might consider the sandwich in his bag to be even mildly appetizing.
Was the sandwich wrapped in the ' eat fresh ' motto still fresh - or was it starting to go bad? Would the maple syrup make it taste better - or unfathomably worse? Would Schrodinger's cat dare to eat that artificially-sweetened sandwich of questionable, unknown quality?
The intruder would have his answer soon enough.
Vesper reached the fourth floor women's washroom and slipped inside. He set up his camcorder on a tripod and kept the tape running. Then, he began the god-forsaken ritual.
The paper wrapper of the sandwich rustled as Vesper pulled it out of his now somewhat-funky bag. A peculiar smell filled the women's washroom - a smell that screamed 'almost rancid' at full volume and maximum reverb. Italian herbs and spices weren't supposed to smell anything like that at all.
Vesper winced, but the looming, dreadful odor didn't deter him. His curiosity and dogged determination pulled him through.
He unwrapped the five-day old sub and opened it up like a pair of open-faced sandwiches. Then, he brought out the final ingredient: maple syrup. With the obnoxiously maple-leaf shaped bottle in hand, he poured the maple syrup onto the open sandwich and anointed it.
All the while, he quietly prayed to Justin Bieber, Drake, Wayne Gretzky, Tim Horton, and whatever gods he thought Canadians believed in. To them, he prayed for forgiveness for the sacrilege he was committing with the sacred Canadian sauce.
The last of the maple syrup left the bottle.
The sacrilege was complete.
Now, it was time to summon the demon.
Vesper raised up the sticky, smelly, cursed abomination of a sandwich up before the washroom mirror and started to chant.
"SAUCY MARY! SAUCY MARY! SAUCY MARY!"
As soon as he said this, the door of a bathroom stall burst open. Vesper's heart nearly leapt out of his chest and he froze in place. Maple syrup dripped down from the desecrated five-day old meatball sub he held above him made him squirm, but he held his breath.
A curious, animalistic sniff filled the confines of the women's bathroom. It drew closer and closer towards the fright-frozen Vesper. Then, he heard the strange entity smacking its lips.
"Nice." The entity spoke.
It was a familiar voice.
The deranged creature stepped into the moonlight and appeared before Vesper - a creature that was the spitting image of Kronii Ouro, an esteemed member of the Student Council.
A myriad of questions started popping up in Vesper's mind.
What the hell was Kronii doing at school this late at night, still in her school uniform?
Why wasn't she the least bit bothered that Vesper was in the women's bathroom?
And why the hell wasn't she put off by the soggy abomination in Vesper's hands!?
Kronii took the syrup-soaked sandwich from Vesper's hands, accepting his sufficiently-aged offering. Then, she proceeded to eat it right in front of him. She wolfed it down with no reservation, gorging on sandwich and syrup alike. Abject fear shook Vesper to his core, but he - like his camcorder - kept watching the midnight feast.
Delight painted Kronii's moonlit face. A single word escaped her lips.
"Mmm~! Moist."
Vesper shuddered. He was at a loss for words. The way Kronii said that word roused uncomfortable memories in his mind.
To make matters worse, Vesper realized that Kronii only ate half of the sub. She offered the half-eaten sandwich to Vesper and asked innocently.
"Want some? It's still pretty good!"
Vesper shook his head violently.
"N-no. Please…" He stammered, barely able to speak.
"Too bad." Kronii smirked.
The door of the women's bathroom suddenly closed and locked. Then, a peculiar appliance floated towards Kronii from the bathroom stall that she burst out of.
It was a blender.
Vesper ran for the door, but he couldn't open it. Or rather, it wouldn't open for him. Not until he got a taste of Kronii's pureed, five-day old, syrup-soaked Meatball sub sandwich. Knowing this, Vesper banged on it and screamed at the top of his lungs!
"LET ME OUT! PLEASE! LET ME OUT!"
However, his cries for help were drowned out by the merciless whirr of Kronii's blender.
The End
