New story is new. I've been having this idea ringing on my mind, taking over my brain until it was let loose. Only time will tell whether or not that was a good idea. As for my older projects... I will get to them eventually. I promise.
Just in case someone wants to support me, you can commission me on Ko-Fi!
Here's the link for my profile: ko -fi nagan oriiga ras hi/comm issio ns
Just take the spaces off. Now, I just hope you all will enjoy this funny little romp of... Edgy, cannibalistic, abhorrent murderfest...?
"Y'know, the guillotine was meant to be a human alternative."
"What?" Renee Graves turned to face Andrew, raising an eyebrow.
"I just remembered it," Andrew said, his eyes still glued to the TV screen, their shoulders touching as they stared blankly, enjoying the comfort of their couch, since there was very little that both could do in their apartment. "Back in the days of the French Revolution, most executions were seen as too gruesome, so the guillotine was suggested as a more human alternative, since it would be over in an instant. Can you picture it mom?"
"Hogtied, pinned down in front of a massive crowd, you hear the sound of a heavy blade cutting the air and then it's all over." He said, a small smirk on his face. "Honestly, much better than this."
"And why are you being so morbid today?" Renee asked. "Have you finally lost it, Andrew? Should I be worried that you lost your mind before losing your virginity?"
"Mom!" He glared at her, reviled. "I'm just saying that I'd rather have instant beheading than… This." He said, making a wide gesture to their run-down, dingy apartment. "At least that would be over soon."
It wasn't the best place, small and cramped as it was, with two rooms and a living room that tripled as kitchen and dining room, but at least the view of the balcony… Renee wouldn't say it was nice, but it was something at least, even if that something was very shitty. It was the best she could afford, especially since her husband–-
She shook her head. Now it wasn't time to think about that piece of trash. But she understood what he really meant: it was the quarantine.
"It has been what? Two months?" She asked.
"Three months yesterday. I would have baked a cake, but it's hard when we have nothing to eat, let alone bake." He remarked sarcastically.
Three months since they were locked into their apartment because of so-called parasites in the water. Three months wasting away having no one but each other.
On the upper hand, the quarantine did wonders to her figure! Who would've thought that starvation was the best way to control her weight?
It's been hard on the two of them, especially when food started running out and they had to rationalize to the best of their abilities.
The first week wasn't that bad.
The second week was tough.
The first month was hell.
Renee didn't even bother keeping up with dates. She could if she wanted simply through her bills, which kept coming with clockwork precision on their due dates. Because you still had to pay your taxes even when the world was ending. The greatest evil unleashed upon the world truly was the IRS.
"Good evening!" A sharp, crisp voice cut the air as Andrew's shitty, black-n'-white movie finally ended and the news started. If that was his idea of a 'good time', then she had failed with her son and society as a whole. However, Andrew's awful ideas for what counted as a 'pastime' aside, it was time for the news.
Renee despised the news.
It wasn't hatred since that took too much energy, energy she couldn't spare when she had to save every bit she could to not die. No, she despised them, passively disparaging their existence while accepting that as a fact. News sucked and that was it. Yet, both she and Andrew had a little ritual where they would sit on the couch and watch something until they started. That was born out of simple necessity: how else were they going to know when this nightmare would be over and they could finally leave?
The anchor spoke. She was a pretty woman in an unremarkable way, wearing her hair in a short bob cut meant to look professional, but made her look like a teenage boy. She wore a suit that was three sizes too small, clearly meant to emphasize her cleavage, barely contained by the navy jacket and the small white shirt she wore underneath.
Her frown deepened.
"Today, we share some wonderful developments in regards to the contaminated water situation!" She said with a wide smile meant to make her look friendly, but, in Renee's opinion, just made clear that her face was more plastic than flesh if the way her skin stretched near the edges of her mouth was anything to go by.
"As of now, all of the sites that received the contaminated water have been properly secured! It has been three months since the original leak and the death count has increased to 53!"
"Not a big deal, honestly." The news lady smiled. Renee could almost hear the crinkles.
"And, for those currently in quarantine, the period has been extended for another two weeks for further monitoring!"
"Again?!" Andrew snarled at the screen. "What kind of parasite can survive for three months without a single symptom showing up?!"
"Now, for our repulsive quarantined neighbors, I mean, esteemed members of the community, I'm thankful that your disgusting, parasite-ridden bodies are very far from me!"
"I mean, I'm thankful for your continued consideration for public safety and your unwavering patience", she corrected, reading from a piece of paper that was slid into her hands by what was clearly an unpaid intern, "Your sacrifice is going to be in vain."
"Now, on better news, a new art museum is goi—" They never figured out what was going with the new art museum since Andrew turned off the TV.
"I can't believe this!" He huffed. "How can they extend the period like that?! There's no way that a parasite can go over two months without any symptoms showing up!"
"Preaching to the choir, but there isn't much we can do about this, Andrew." Renee said as she got up from her seat. "I'm going to sleep and maybe you should too."
"Yeah, let's." Andrew agreed with a sigh. "Good night, mom", he said, before heading to his room. Renee couldn't help but look at her son as he walked away. There was something she wanted to say, something important, but she couldn't form the words and thus simply sighed before leaving for her own room, having the only company she never got comfortable with: herself and her own thoughts.
"Why are you still calling?" He said on the other side of the line. "I told you, I need someone else in my life! We can settle the divorce like adults, Renee!"
"I'm not calling about you, Dick!" Renee replied, exasperated. Why was he so fixated on always acting like she was obsessed with him? "It's about Andrew!"
"Last time I checked, he was your responsibility."
"Yes, because he's my son and mine only." She rolled her eyes. "Because poor little old me made Andrew with my fingers."
"But what do you even expect from me, Renee? I can't help you! I can't send the food you say you need! The news—"
"Are lying, you idiot!" Renee shot back. "They are lying! Why would I lie about starving with your son in our apartment?!"
"You always had a thing for attention-seeking…"
"Fuck off, you pedophile."
"You know this isn't true, Renee! Going for potshots is not how adults talk!"
"You're right." She conceded. "I was just talking just like your new wife!"
"Leave her out of this, Renee!"
"Hard when you found a girl young enough to be your daughter and left me and Andrew to rot in this mousetrap!"
"You have no idea what I was going through!" He tried to defend himself. Renee couldn't help but feel pure, visceral revulsion at his pathetic attempts of justifying the unjustifiable. "I needed time for myself to—"
"To find some stupid highschooler, fill her ears with empty promises, impregnate her and skip town after marking another tally on the back of your truck and feeling like you're a god among men?" That got him silent. "Oh, did I strike a nerve?" She laughed without humor. "I mean, wasn't that your M.O.? I wonder, is she even old enough to have a driver's license?"
"Renee, I won't tolerate you badmouthing my wife."
"You will tolerate anything as long as you don't have to work for it!" She growled, her fingers gripping the phone handle harder, her knuckles turning white."But all of that's beside the point! If you don't want to help me, then at least make sure that Andrew won't starve! He's your son too!"
"I can't! I can't do it, the news say that there are armed guards ready to use force to stop people trying to barge in or give supplies! Besides, all of your needs are being looked for!"
"My needs, like starvation." She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I married a worm like you. But if your news and your kindergartner wife are so important, then hang up!"
"Renee, she has nothing to do with us! Leave her out of this!"
"You are a cowardly piece of crap, Richard."
"A-and you're a bitch! A massive bitch! Have you ever considered that you deserve to be locked away?!"
That got her silent. Richard was never aggressive nor assertive: in fact, he was tough as a wet paper towel and reliable as the weather forecast. So that took Renee by surprise and he took his chance to keep going on.
"And you better not harass me nor my wife anymore! We are just living our lives, thank you very much! I-if you don't, then I'll get a restraining order on you!"
Now that made her laugh.
"A restraining order? I'm already restrained, you stupid shitstain! I can't leave the apartment! And I'm not asking for me, I'm asking for your son! Our son!"
There was silence for a couple of seconds.
"Goodbye Renee. Don't ever call me again. And… Tell Andy I'm proud of him."
Those were the last words that Renee heard of her husband before he hung up on her, the shock and surprise stunning her into a stupefied silence, her fingers letting go of the phone as her mind tried to process Richard's last words.
How…
How could he be callous enough to discard them so wholly without even looking back…?
After reminiscing about all of the bad life choices that led her to her current situation, Renee woke up. As one does.
She sat on her bed, looking around her bedroom: a small, cramped room with a double bed, a small nightstand with a lamp and a shitty DIY bookshelf that Richard assembled while refusing to look at the manual, claiming he used to do these kinds of handiworks all the time with his father "back in the day".
Renee was sure that if she sneezed on it hard enough, the entire thing would fall apart.
The books themselves didn't help much, with depressing titles like "Bored of Your Marriage? Get a Divorce!", "10 Ways To Improve Your Boring Vanilla Sex", "How to Appease Your Nagging Wife" and "Breaking the Wall Between Your Insufferable Wife and Your Freedom!"
All were Richard's.
Renee frowned as she got up and left the room. She could barely sleep there anymore due to how ingrained that place was with her husband's grubby fingerprints. He was still her husband even if in name only. At least until she got out of that mess and could sue for divorce.
The fact that he left both she and Andrew for his preschooler lover one day before they were quarantined had no bearing on that.
Their marriage was over a long time ago, way before he came to her and said they needed some time. She remembered the look on his face: it was the stupid longing gaze of a kid asking their parent for permission to do something the parent clearly disapproves.
Andrew never looked at her like that.
He was very easy to raise: always polite, intelligent, keeping to himself. Well, Renee could use some more spine on her son, but she was proud of him regardless, bad life choices or not.
Seriously, what job was he expecting to find with a major on Cinema and a minor on Literature and Poetry?
As she left her room, she couldn't help but look around the living room, her eyes going from the small couch she shared with Andrew on the regular, the trash bags all dumped near the door, the bills that covered the small dining table, the empty counters on their kitchen. The only thing resembling food they still had were a couple of spices and they were only there because not even their starved bodies could take those raw. They've tried.
It was a mess.
Maybe she should do some cleaning today… That would get her mind off the useless worm she let ruin her life.
She sighed and grabbed the trash bags: maybe letting them out here wasn't a very good idea. Maybe they should put them somewhere else. Not that Renee expected or them to be let out soon, but, at least they should keep it stashed in a place where it wouldn't be that much of a bother.
So, as she reached for the bags, Renee felt a hard, flat and smooth surface against her hand when she grabbed one of them. She cocked an eyebrow, now wasn't that weird? Upon removing the bag, she saw it.
Canned tomatoes.
A closed can of tomatoes.
An uneaten can of tomatoes.
"Andrew! Get your ass right here now!" Renee yelled.
"I'm going!" He answered from his room, his voice still sleepy. "Just… Five minutes, mom!"
"Now!"
"Okay okay! Sheesh…" He replied and Renee could almost see him rolling his eyes. And lo and behold, in a minute there he was. Judging by the way he rubbed his eyes, Andrew had just woken up and dressed. Renee felt a pang of pity, quickly buried by the fact that he was hiding food! Food! Just the thing they needed the most!
"What is this, Andrew?" Renee asked, glaring daggers at her son while holding the canned goods.
"It's a can." He said, with a pokerface so perfect he almost could pass as innocent, the little shit. "By the label, I think it's a can of tomatoes."
"I know what it is, Andrew, what I'm asking is, how this perfectly fine, clearly unopened and uneaten can of tomatoes ended up in the trash?"
"Who knows?" Andrew shrugged. "Maybe one of us forgot and put it there by mistake?" He said, a small grin creeping to the corners of his mouth.
"A mistake."
"Yeah." He didn't even look guilty.
"So, if it was such a big mistake, then it shouldn't be a problem if we rectified it here and now by having those wonderful tomatoes for dinner, right?" Renee said, her voice going a pitch higher just to make Andrew squirm. Unlike her mother and grand-mère, Renee believed that giving what your child wanted in the way they didn't want it… That was the best punishment ever. The number of times she did it to Andrew while he was growing up… She could count in the fingers of one hand and still have three to spare. Seeing how he turned out (mostly) fine is one of the many prides Renee had as a mother, since her methods clearly worked most of the time!
"Mom…" He started, his breathing getting more ragged, his hands opening and closing as he tried to look calm, a daunting task when you were anything but. "Are you sure you want to do it?"
"Why not? We're starving and this might save us for another day or two." She replied. "So what's the problem? If one of us saved this for an emergency, I think that counts as one…" Renee waited for a moment before going for the coup-de-grâce. She didn't have to wait, but she wanted to watch Andrew squirm a little. And she didn't need to go that far, but this was about teaching a lesson and making a point.
"Don't you think so, Andrew Richard Graves?"
"It was me!" He finally folded, looking every bit like the day where she caught him with the hand in the cookie jar. She didn't think kids literally did that, but that was children for you.
"So."
"It was our last food! I-I was just making sure we had provisions, mom! Just in case anything happened!"
"Something is happening already, Andrew!" Renee shot back. "We are starving to death! Or what, were you planning on letting me die so you wouldn't need to share? Is that it?!"
"No! I wouldn't let anything happen to you, mom!" He replied. "We could go maybe two or three more days with no food and, if we have something, we gotta make it last as long as possible because, without it, there's nothing more for us!"
"You little… Do you know just how long we've been without eating anything?"She glared at him. At least Andrew had the decency to look uncomfortable and squirm under her gaze. "Should I be worried for any more betrayals like that, Andrew? Have you been hoarding more food for an emergency greater than death by starvation?"
He shuffled in place, unable to meet her gaze.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question."
"No, mom… That was all I could salvage and keep in case we ever needed it."
"Like now." Renee said. "This is going to be our dinner. No discussion", she said, cutting off her son before he could say anything in protest. "You kept it in case we needed it and we are needing it right now."
"But what if we need them in the future?" Andrew said, biting his finger as he often did when he was nervous.
"Then, the future us can curse our past selves as they wish. I'm starving, Andrew…" Both heard a rumbling sound, one that Andrew tried to muffle by hugging his belly, "And it seems like you are too."
He sighed, defeated. "Okay fine. You can cook our last meal, but don't be mad at me when we go hungry again."
As Andrew sat down to eat, he couldn't help but touch the small, red amorphous blob of… Something on the plate in front of him.
"Something wrong?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow, daring him to say something stupid. While the snark was on the tip of his tongue, his self-preservation instincts kicked in before he could doom himself.
"Ah, no, mom!" He said, poking at the small red blob with his fork. "Ketchup soup. My favorite." Andrew took a piece of it with his fork and ate it. It tasted like seasoned tomato sauce. His body didn't recognize the alien matter as proper food and he felt the retching coming as soon as the viscous feeling reached his empty stomach.
"Well, next time let's see you turn tomato sauce into edible food", Renee replied, her eyes digging into his. "Oh, I forgot, you wouldn't since you never help at home!"
"Yeah mom, woe is you and I'm the freeloader who just happens to give you more chores", he rolled his eyes. "Truly, I am the worst."
"No sarcasm, young man. It's hard keeping a home nice and tidy as is, especially with a grown-ass man who lazes around all day and doesn't move a finger to help." Her glare intensified.
"I'm telling you, I 'll help when it's work that needs to be done."
"I didn't know I raised a world-class bullshitter until now", Mom snorted. "I mean, that's a good one! And what, pray tell, is work that needs to be done, young man?"
"For starters, we have—"
Whatever housework Andrew was going to argue that had to be done was never listed because the music started blasting, coming straight from their neighbor.
"Again?!" Mom looked absolutely furious. He was mad as well, but at this point, it was more by the choice of music rather than anything else. It barely sounded like… Music! It was more like someone was trying to wrestle a cat into submission while scratching a black board with a pitchfork, followed by an accompaniment of what Andrew could only describe as pure, inhuman torture, something that he could never endure should he ever be subjected to it.
Opera music.
Not that he'd be caught dead admitting it: he valued his reputation and image as an artistic soul (which he was), and so, that came with certain… Limitations. Besides, Andrew just liked being superior by not sharing the pedestrian tastes of his peers.
It's not that he felt superior. He was superior and knew it. He just enjoyed rubbing it in.
Unfortunately, his mom either lacked his inclinations… Or she plain didn't care.
"It's the fifth time just this week! Who does he think he is?!"
"Who knows", he shrugged. "But it's insufferable. There are more people than just him living here."
"Go with me, Andrew." Mom said, getting up and taking the balcony key. "We're going to him and we're going now!"
"Mom, you can't just barge into someone's house like that!"
"If you don't want to go, then just don't. I'll do it alone", she scoffed, "as always."
"I never said I wouldn't go with you", Andrew sighed. "Just be careful, okay?" He asked while following her to the balcony, where Mom was already hurling insults like party tricks.
"What, are you afraid of a proper conversation?!" She growled, her voice drowned by the sound. "Come on, get out!"
"I don't think he's listening, mom…" Andrew wisely pointed out, right before she turned to glare at him. "If you want to make him listen, we might as well knock on his door and ask him nicely to turn the volume down."
He meant that sarcastically, but Andrew could see the gears turning on her head.
"Mom, you can't be seriously—"
"I'm pretty sure I cam make the leap."
"It's the fourth floor, mom! One mistake, one slip, and you'd fall to your death!" He huffed.
"Well… In this case, I know what to do." Mom looked at him. "You know, I never thought I'd ever thank your father for being a lazy idiot, but there's always a first for everything."
"What do you mean, mom?"
"Come inside and trust me on this", She grabbed his arm and pulled him alongside as she entered, crossing the living room in three decisive steps before entering her room.
Andrew couldn't help but watch as his mom marched to the shitty bookshelf his father assembled and… Started banging on one of the shelves.
"MOM?! Have you gone crazy?!"
"Just… Shut up… And Help me, Andrew!" She shot back, banging with her two hands on the wood. He wanted to argue, to try and understand what the hell she intended to, but honestly? The only good thing that Andrew learned from Richard was that, sometimes, when you have a stubborn woman at the house, it's better to go with the flow. So he did, hitting the wood shelf with his hands until it fell apart.
Mom looked satisfied at their work, taking the plank that fell off the shelf and going for the balcony. Andrew had no choice but to follow her.
"Mom, are you really—"
"Yes, I am." She cut him, putting the plank between their balconies, turning it into an improvised bridge. "I can't take this anymore, Andrew… Someone has to remember this crusty wanker that there is more than one single person in this building!"
He wanted to dispute that, but all he could do was pinch the bridge of his noise, finally giving up. "Okay, I'll go with you… If he tries something, at least I can protect you somehow."
"My hero." Mom chuckled, amused, before they crossed their makeshift bridge. It was remarkably unsafe, but perhaps God was real and Andrew should reconsider his atheist status, because the only thing that could explain them not falling to their deaths when they crossed it safely was a miracle.
Religious status and statements aside, Mom was already at his door, but for some reason she was looking through the glass. Maybe a sudden curiosity to see what the hell his neighbor was doing that demanded bothering everyone on their floor. She looked at him and just signaled for him to come closer. Andrew raised and eyebrow but so he did, crouching just a little above her as both looked.
"OH DEMONS OF HELL, HEAR MY PLEA!" Their neighbor almost screamed, his voice drowned by the music blasting from a real life, honest-to-God boombox. "OH LORD UNKNOWN, I CALL YOU! I BEG YOU, DEMONS OF HELL, ANSWER MY CALL!"
Andrew saw himself as a smart man, able to foresee the outcomes to most decisions and was a smug little shit about it, he wasn't going to lie.
But their neighbor trying to sell his soul to the Devil? Now that was something original, all right.
Not that he was impressed by the cheesy summoning.
Nor was Mom.
Nor the forces of evil, given the clear lack of summoned demons.
"Crap, what did I do wrong this time?" His neighbor grumbled, after turning the insufferable music off. He was an average, unremarkable guy as far as Andrew remembered, but it was hard to discern most of his features given how he was wearing a long, dirty robe, making him look like a member of the evil council of some cheesy fantasy movie Andrew wouldn't be caught dead watching. "I knew I should have used the warden as bait…"
And then he turned to them.
"You…! What… How did you get here?!"
"Doesn't matter." Mom replied. "What matters is that you're blasting this at full volume all the time!"
"I wouldn't expect those unenlightened to understand…"
"We just saw you fail at your little demon summoning ritual…" Andrew pointed.
"I-it was a trial run! Now, you go! You have no idea what you're dealing with! I have powers much beyond your feeble comprehension!"
"If you're this powerful wizard, then why didn't you find open a portal and leave the building, huh?" Renee taunted. Now that got him to shut up and Andrew let a sound that sounded like a mix of a sigh and a chuckle.
"What we're talking is, we don't care what you're doing, be it summoning demons, the saddest rave ever or using dark magic to kill the president. Just tune the volume down, okay? We live right next doors and we'd like the peace."
"You…" He bristled, but Mom's snark was enough to have culled any desire to argue back he might've had. "I will keep the volume down… But just for the record, I can open a portal to the outside! I-I just don't want to!"
Now it was time for Andrew to snort. "Talk sure is cheap, Old Man Whateley. Now we'll leave you to… Work on another 'trial run'." He said, putting his hand on Mom's back. Andrew didn't want to hear the excuses of the saddest demon worshipper ever, so he and Mom were soon back to their apartment.
Just as a little measure to safeguard their privacy, he took the plank off and left it on the floor, by the balcony.
"Did you see that, Andrew? That was pathetic…" Mom said when they were back home.
"I guess everyone needs a hobby… Maybe the cabin fever finally got to him." Andrew shrugged.
"That or he finally lost his marbles. Never saw a case of cabin fever get so bad someone goes delirious." She said, but the usual snark sounded a little hollow.
"I can assure you, if that's the competition, we're doing much better than him." He joked, trying to get Mom's mind outside the gutter. She raised an eyebrow as she turned to face him.
"I mean, we still didn't resort to deals with the devil, mom. As far as I can tell, we're doing great."
That made her chuckle. For some reason, Andrew loved that sound. Soothing and calming and it also made her features light up in a way that really highlighted her beauty.
Because, yes, Renee Graves was a very beautiful woman and Andrew wasn't saying that just because she was his mom. She was indeed a very beautiful woman that overwork, stress and being abandoned by his shitty father couldn't topple. She was shaken, but she managed to get up time and time again.
"You're right!" She said, still chuckling. "You're right, Andrew!"
"When am I not?" He replied, smugness dripping from his voice.
"Well, that one time with the ducks…"
"Not my fault the zoo put them in the wrong cages, Mom."
"Either way, it's nice to know that we're not doing so bad, especially by knowing someone is worse off than us", she said, cleaning a small tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. "But… I think it's best for us to rest for now."
"I agree…" He nodded. "Good night, mom."
"Good night, Andrew."