Then Dandy slowly turned to stare at me, and started licking his lips. Licking his pale-blue lips with a dark-blue tongue.
So of course I turned and ran. I’m no idiot.
* * * *
Koko Fantastic: The Absinthe Martini is run by a weird little clique that’s into S&M, so none of us Deathquakers ever went there, even though it was Goth. Xavier knew those folks, but even he never went to their place. No sirree. But I guess Dandy went there. They were the ones who ended up with Trouble, so I suppose he had some kind of thing with them. An agreement. An alliance. I don’t know what you’d call—what they had. I’m sure they were the ones who took away the sets for the movie after Dandy died. They left the body because they knew what it was going to become.
Eventually the police figured out a way to load him into a truck and take his zombie ass away. That’s what he was, you know. A zombie. And not your garden-variety, me-want-brains, drive-in-movie-style zombie. He was some kind of freaky primal thing, cooked up out of that damned Aleister Crowley magic.
Poor Dandy. Poor man-child.
Poor thing.
* * * *
Arabella Cream: That chant, that’s what did it to him. But you know, I don’t think it did what it was supposed to do. That Dandy—he never could stick to a script.
But evidently his rendition of the chant was caught on film. I can just see him, setting up the camera, getting everything ready, then running in front of it to do his bit. Mr. Do-It-Yourself. None of us Deathquakers went to the premiere of Trouble—we never went to The Absinthe Martini and besides, we weren’t invited. But it’s just as well. The film turned everyone in the audience into zombies. Which leads me to wonder how the film was edited…? Maybe different people took turns editing different parts. Maybe it was edited out of sequence. Or maybe zombies edited it. I don’t know.
You know, I’m really sick of art. Running the Saunders Gallery was hard enough, having to deal with whiny diva artists. But having to contend with art-film zombies—that’s just too much. One of these days I’m just going to move to some small town, find me a hunky gas-station attendant and settle down to a quiet, fat, frumpy life with a few brats and a station wagon.
I’ll even start using my original first name again. Darla.
* * * *
Xavier Y. Zerba: You know, I was supposed to go to the premiere of Trouble. The gang at The Absinthe Martini even sent me an invitation. They were a strange little group. Pale, tattooed men who always wore leather. And that was management—you should’ve seen the bartenders. All of them had names like Toad-Scar and Crow-Claw and Barbed-Wire Joe. They’d have been the first to admit that they loved stirring up—trouble! I guess that made the movie’s title especially apropos.
I always told the other Deathquakers I never went to The Absinthe Martini, but yeah, sure I did…all the time. Just for fun. I took Dandy once, just for fun. I think he had more fun than I realized.
But I wasn’t able to make it to the premiere because I was sick—stomach flu, puking and diarrhea all night. I’ve been pretty lucky. If I’d have played Macbeth in that movie…or gone to that premiere…I’d be a zombie now.
There were probably about a couple hundred people at that premiere—The Absinthe Martini can be standing room only on a good night. Now all those folks are zombies, roaming the streets day and night, blasting chunks out of people with their eye rays. I hear some of them have managed to turn other folks into zombies—not sure how, but I’m not sticking around to find out.
Luck only lasts for so long, so I’m getting out while the getting is good. I’ll be on the first plane taking off tomorrow morning—I don’t even care where it’s going.
I’ve had a lot of fun in this city. Now I’ll have fun in another city. Sans the living dead.
* * * *
Taffy Belasco: Papa has connections, so this morning, I asked him to find out what the authorities are doing to Dandy’s zombie. He made a few calls, pulled a few strings—Papa’s wonderful that way. He found out that Dandy is being tested at some sort of institution. They’ve got him locked up in a concrete room, and they’re running all sorts of tests on him—which isn’t easy, since he can fire those eye-beams. In fact, Papa’s taking me to the institute next week. He said I can watch Dandy on a monitor. Dandy on TV, at long last! Yesterday he managed to turn one of the guards into a zombie—he recited that chant to him. So Papa said he’ll have them turn down the sound on the monitor while we’re watching Dandy.
The police are having a terrible time hunting down all those zombies. The horrid things don’t care about bullets at all, and they can shoot that burning light out of their eyes. They’re kind of like movie projectors, aren’t they? They shoot out beams that make a lasting impression! It really was naughty of Dandy to use that Crowley chant to make so much mischief. So much trouble. Trouble begetting trouble. I wonder if he really knew what he was doing? This whole affair stinks of an experiment gone wrong.
But you know what’s the funny part of this whole mess? Well, of course, the zombies attack anyone who attacks them—that’s human nature, even if the human in question is one of the living dead. But if they’re left to their own devices, they’ll only attack and eat good-looking people. It isn’t what you gnaw, it’s who you gnaw! Isn’t that a stitch? The media has really picked up on that—especially since some zombies have already attacked two health spas and a beauty salon. So ugly people and fatties have nothing to worry about. Ha, I guess that means Koko Fantastic is safe!
The other night, the Channel 17 Action News gal, Sharla Fontaine, was doing a report on the whole zombie scene from the street when suddenly one of those creatures rounded the corner—and marched right past her. Oh, but she was flabbergasted! She practically threw herself at it—did everything but stick her head in its mouth—but that zombie just wasn’t having any of that, thank you very much! It was delightful! But you know, I’ve always thought she should do something about those teeth of hers. And those crow’s-feet! A little Botox wouldn’t hurt.
It seems those awful creatures have a lot of Dandy in them. Not his sweet side, which I must admit was pretty puny most of the time—but certainly his discerning nature. So maybe the meek will inherit the Earth after all, if these zombies take over and the beautiful people are turned into fodder.
Of course I still have all the Crowley papers. I’ve checked, and the chant is still there. Dandy didn’t steal it—he must have just copied it. I bet he screwed it up. He probably left out some words when he was writing it down. And knowing him, he probably added some lines and said “Gee!” too many times while reciting it for the movie.
I’m tempted, you know. I really am. Tempted to go into the library, dig out those papers again, and recite that chant perfectly. Perfectly. Perfectly.
Just to see what happens. Or rather, what’s meant to happen.
But not today.
I’m sure there will come a day when—horror of horrors!—my beauty will start to fade. My curves will sag. My limbs will ache and my eyes will bag.
Maybe then.
CLAWS OF THE INTERNET WITCHES
(SYSTEM MESSAGE: Internet Witch Coven No. 37 Chatroom Session 856 initiated)
(GYMALKA has entered Chatroom)
(MODERATOR: GYMALKA)
(TRANSCRIPT: initiate RECORD function)
GYMALKA: TEST
(MIZIMBA has entered Chatroom)
MIZIMBA: Greetings to you, sister. Where are the others?
GYMALKA: GREETINGS M I GOT HERE JUST A MINUTE AGO IM MODERATING TONIGHT THE CHAT DOESNT START FOR A FEW MINUTES YOURE EARLY YOUR CLOCK MUST BE OFF
MIZIMBA: You’re probably right. I thought I was a little late. My clock says 12:03.
GYMALKA: HAVENT TALKED TO YOU SINCE THE LAST CHAT HOW ARE THINGS WITH YOU
MIZIMBA: I’ve set up seven website
s since our last chat. Three turn mortals into the living dead. Two turn them into fat, delicious goats. One turns them into crows and the last gives them painful cancerous tumors.
GYMALKA: WHERE ON THE BODY
MIZIMBA: The genitals, of course.
GYMALKA: EXCELLENT
(VATHIMA has entered Chatroom)
VATHIMA: Greetings to you, sisters.
MIZIMBA: Greetings to you, Vathima.
GYMALKA: GREETINGS V
(POGMI has entered Chatroom)
POGMI: greetings to you, sisters.
(AGMELLA has entered Chatroom)
AGMELLA: Greetings to you, sisters.
GYMALKA: GREETINGS P & A
VATHIMA: Greetings, Pogmi and Agmella.
MIZIMBA: Greetings to you, sisters.
GYMALKA: I TRUST YOU ALL HAVE BEEN PRODUCTIVE MIZIMBA WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HER MOST RECENT ACCOMPLISHMENTS SHE HAS SET UP 7 WEBSITES TO TORMENT THE MORTALS WHO VISIT THEM HER SITES TURN THEM INTO ZOMBIES WE CAN USE FOR SLAVES AND GOATS WE CAN EAT AND CROWS THAT CAN SNATCH OUT HUMAN EYES AND 1 GIVES THEM TUMORS ON THEIR STINKING GENITALS SO THEY CANNOT BREED
VATHIMA: Excellent work, Mizimba. I have only had time to put up two websites. One bathes mortal visitors in radiation that cooks them to the bone, while the other turns them into monkeys with rabies. I would have set up more, but I have been having problems with my daughter Vulpa. The worry makes it difficult to concentrate on my work.
GYMALKA: WHAT IS THE PROBLEM WHY IS SHE MISSING OUR SESSION WHY IS SHE NOT HERE
VATHIMA: I do not know why Vulpa is not here. She is being very difficult. She is not sure she wants to be an internet witch. Such a ridiculous notion. Of course she must follow the way—she has no choice, it is in her blood. But still she insists she wants to be a dancer. A dancer, entertaining those putrid mortal animals!
GYMALKA: SHE IS STILL YOUNG ONLY 25 AND THE YOUNG NEVER KNOW WHAT THEY REALLY WANT THEY ONLY THINK THEY KNOW WHAT THEY WANT THEY KNOW NOTHING OF THE THREADS OF FATE THAT BIND US ALL
POGMI: she can be a witch and still dance. i dance every night.
AGMELLA: But you are very fat.
POGMI: a fat witch can dance!
VATHIMA: So what should I do about Vulpa?
MIZIMBA: She wastes time. Slap her. Someone should slap Pogmi, too.
POGMI: i will slap your head right off your body, you bitch!
AGMELLA: Do not let Vulpa stray from the path, Vathima. Pogmi strays too much. I have seen her at bars with mortals, laughing and drinking. She is a fat, stupid whore.
POGMI: how dare you spy on me!
GYMALKA: SOMEDAY THIS SHALL BE OUR WORLD BUT UNTIL THEN WE MUST BLEND IN WITH THE MORTALS WHEN WE ARE NOT AT OUR COMPUTERS TELL VULPA SHE CAN DANCE ONLY WHEN HER WORK IS DONE POGMI IS YOUR WORK DONE
POGMI: no, i have been busy
AGMELLA: Busy playing the whore!
GYMALKA: POGMI THE ONLY THING THAT SHOULD BE KEEPING YOU BUSY IS THE GREAT WORK WE MUST CONQUER THE WORLD MUST FIND NEW WAYS TO ENSLAVE THE MORTALS YOU USED TO BE SUCH A HARD WORKER POGMI YOU EVEN SET UP THIS CHATROOM FOR US SO TELL ME WHAT IS KEEPING YOU BUSY
POGMI: i have met a man and i want to have a baby with him.
GYMALKA: WE DO NEED THE MORTAL MEN FOR THEIR SEED BUT THAT IS ALL POGMI IT DOES NOT TAKE LONG FOR A MAN TO PLANT HIS SEED WHAT IS KEEPING YOU BUSY
POGMI: i love him. we are having fun. i want to have his baby and i want it to be a boy.
GYMALKA: WHAT ARE YOU SAYING YOU KNOW ANY BOYS WE MIGHT BEAR WOULD BE SLAIN AT BIRTH WE HAVE SPECIAL PILLS AND SPELLS TO MAKE SURE OUR BABIES ARE ONLY FEMALE WE DO NOT ALLOW MALE BABIES OUR COVENS ARE ONLY FOR FEMALE WITCHES FEMALE YOU MUST BE INSANE WITH SUCH HIDEOUS TALK OF LOVE AND MALE BABIES
AGMELLA: See? She is a fat whore who wastes time on a foolish man.
GYMALKA: POGMI LET THE MAN PLANT HIS SEED AND THEN KILL HIM TAKE THE PILLS AND SAY THE SPELLS TO MAKE SURE THE BABY IS FEMALE
MIZIMBA: What is wrong with you, Pogmi? Why are you acting in such a disgusting manner?
VATHIMA: I should go to Vulpa’s house and slap her to be sure she does not act as foolishly as Pogmi.
POGMI: you are all such sad, jealous bitches! i have found a fine man to love and i am going to keep him. your work means nothing to me now. i have my own work.
GYMALKA: YOUR OWN WORK WHAT DOES THAT MEAN
MIZIMBA: You had better change your ways, Pogmi, or face destruction.
AGMELLA: The fat whore has turned against us! I knew it! I shall run tracers on her sites immediately.
VATHIMA: What have you done, Pogmi?
POGMI: you can’t frighten me. love has given me more power than all of you combined.
GYMALKA: I SHOULD MAKE YOUR COMPUTER EXPLODE I CAN DO IT YOU KNOW ANY TIME I WANT I AM THE MODERATOR
POGMI: go ahead! see what happens, bitch!
MIZIMBA: So you think you have found love, Pogmi? What will you do when your mortal idiot tires of you? What will you do then?
POGMI: then i will just find love again. that’s how love works. love is strange. it hurts sometimes but it’s still better than being nothing. better than just being a hateful machine made out of flesh.
(VULPA has entered Chatroom)
VULPA: Greetings to you, sisters. I apologize for being so late. I had to drive a neighbor to the hospital.
VATHIMA: See how she fawns upon the wretched mortals?
VULPA: Mr. Graham is very old and has always been good to me.
AGMELLA: A man! She is late because of a man! An old, sickly, useless man at that!
VATHIMA: We have a problem going on here, Vulpa. Pogmi is out of control.
VULPA: I’m sorry to hear that. I like Pogmi.
AGMELLA: I have finished running tracers on Pogmi’s sites. She is giving the mortals browser updates to protect them from our websites! She has gone insane. She must be destroyed.
VULPA: Pogmi is nice! Leave her alone!
GYMALKA: GOODBYE POGMI IT IS TIME FOR US TO BE RID OF YOU
(GYMALKA has exited Chatroom)
(MODERATOR: MIZIMBA)
VATHIMA: What’s going on? Where did Gymalka go?
AGMELLA: Gymalka must be having computer problems. Mizimba, you are the Moderator now, so pick up where she left off.
MIZIMBA: Will do.
(MIZIMBA has exited Chatroom)
(MODERATOR: AGMELLA)
POGMI: go ahead, agmella! You’re the moderator, blow up my computer! you know you want to!
AGMELLA: With pleasure, you stupid, fat whore!
(AGMELLA has exited Chatroom)
(MODERATOR: VATHIMA)
VATHIMA: I am confused. What happened to Gymalka and Mizimba and Agmella?
POGMI: i set up this chatroom, remember? i recently changed some settings. all termination commands now redirect automatically to the sender.
VULPA: Don’t try to blow up Pogmi’s computer, mother.
VATHIMA: Your love of that mortal man has ruined you, Pogmi.
VULPA: Mother, I know you have always cared for father. I know you still talk to him every now and then. Maybe you love him. I hope you do. Pogmi just wants to be as happy as the mortals when they are in love, and so do I.
VATHIMA: We are too different from the mortals. We are superior to them.
POGMI: more powerful, yes. but not superior. we live like spiders, always weaving webs. but we don’t have to. there’s more to life than just thinking about death.
VATHIMA: I used to have such thoughts, back when I first met Vulpa’s father. His name is Evan. Mortals think he is a big, strong man, but knowing how weak he really is, how vulnerable, makes me too sad. It makes no sense to love such a creature.
VULPA: Our power is our curs
e, mother. It only makes us hungry for more power, and so we claw and claw for more, always more. And what’s the point of that? What’s the point of ruling a warzone, filled with dead enemies?
VATHIMA: But what choice do we have? What else can we do?
POGMI: i have my own work to do so i must stay online. but you and vulpa can always pull the cord.
VATHIMA: Explain.
POGMI: unplug your computers. throw them in the garbage.
VATHIMA: What will I do then?
POGMI: walk in the sun. discover love.
VULPA: Turn off your computer, mother. Do as Pogmi said and throw it away. Forget about it. Just be free. Just be you. That’s what I’m going to do right now.
(VULPA has exited Chatroom)
VATHIMA: Can I really do that?
POGMI: of course you can. the choice has always been yours. there’s nothing to fear. the witches can’t get you if you’re not online.
VATHIMA: Yes. You’re right.
POGMI: without the internet, you’ll be just as weak as evan. or just as strong. go to him. see what happens.
VATHIMA: Very well. I shall try.
POGMI: i know you will be happy, and that is all that matters. goodbye, sister.
VATHIMA: Thank you. Goodbye, Pogmi.
(VATHIMA has exited Chatroom)
(MODERATOR: POGMI)
(TRANSCRIPT: stop RECORD function)
(TRANSCRIPT: initiate DELETE function)
(TRANSCRIPT: DELETE function completed)
(POGMI has exited Chatroom)
(End of Session 856)
SPIDERBREAD
Isn’t that a horrible name for a town? Not a good name to consider for too long. Such disgusting images come to mind. Hairy tarantula legs sticking out of hot white loaves. Dark pumpernickels dotted with daddy longlegs. Or maybe plump golden buns, each with a juicy black widow baked into the center. No matter how you slice it, Spiderbread sounds absolutely nauseating.
In fact, it’s a peaceful rural community, population 368, with a school (kindergarten through sixth grade), a grocery store, and a tavern (you can’t really call it a bar—that’s a sleazy word, a city word). The town is surrounded with pig and dairy farms, corn and hay fields, and it seems there are always dogs running around.
Hideous Faces, Beautiful Skulls: Tales of Horror and the Bizarre Page 19
