by Vaughn Ashby
Shane held the spray can out, “Would you like to close it?”
“Sure,” he took the can from Shane and read the label, Black Oil Based Paint. “Paint?”
Shane went back to the table to exam more of the cans. “Yep paint, I don’t think we can actually close it, but we can paint over it and Oil paint is a bitch to get off, so we paint it and leave it forever. Some family will move in here never knowing there is a door to hell right next to grandma’s bed in the basement.”
Slowly, Jason stepped towards the portal, he held the can out and started spraying. Back and forth, the paint leaving the can and stopping before it actually entered the portal. Just like painting over a window. “How many have you painted over?”
“This will be the 5th, but I know of at least a dozen more, all painted over. People are learning about them online. You know this isn’t what they are actually trying to do, or at least I think most of them aren’t. But like shitty cooks they make dumb substitution, and end up with this crap.” Shane glanced over at Jason he was almost done. The once red doorway to hell was mostly covered in black spray paint. All that was left was a small corner in the top, where something was looking back at him. “There actually trying to…” Shane stumbled back knocking over a few things on the table, “Jason.” He tried to get it out but hardly any sound escaped him.
The falling cans caught Jason’s attention, “What? You ok?” The look of terror on Shane’s face gave it away. He could see Shane looking at something, something behind him. He jumped forward away from the mostly closed portal, just in time to avoid a massive spider trying to force its way through. The term spider is used loosely here. The spider had from what they could tell way more than 8 legs. Its body seemed to be armored, and its legs were hairy, and like gross way too long shaggy dog hairy. Strangest of all, the damn thing didn't seem to have any eyes.
Six of its legs were already through the opening, it’s giant body prevented it from already enjoying the taste of them.
“Oh that’s fucking gross, I hate spiders,” Jason yelled.
The spider tried to force itself through but couldn’t get the portal to open any wider. Thankfully the portal was no sphincter.
The spider moved back into its side of the portal and ran towards the opening trying to crash through. It hit the other side hard, but nothing happened on this end. It jammed 8 legs through, with at least that many more still back on its side of where ever it was from. Then from the end of every leg it had through the opening it shot a load of webs into the room, covering both Shane and Jason along with the table, the walls, and the door, basically everything. The spider pulled and the table flew towards it, spilling the contents everywhere.
“This is beyond gross,” Jason said as he pulled the webbing from his clothes.
“You’re the cop, shoot the fucker,” Shane said as he backed towards the door.
The two of them stood there just staring at it. Both taking a mental poop. Were they really looking at what they were looking at? No chance the Walrus was going to believe them.
The spider re-positioned its legs, managing only to get 8 of it's legs through and still working on the body.
Jason unclipped the safety strap on his sidearm and was about to pull it out. Images of him having to do paperwork for this flashed in his head. How the fuck was he going to write this up? 'Two shells used on giant spider that was attempting to escape from portal to hell that was created by an artsy wife by using bear…,' he dove towards the bear spray on the floor. He shook and found it at least half full. He pointed it at the very gross spider-like creature, closed his mouth and eyes, then pulled the trigger.
From there it was easy, the spider thingy ran away, they painted up the last little bit of the portal and then tried to come up with a good reason why they had bear sprayed themselves. They came up with nothing good, other then it was an accident. Better that than trying to convince everyone they had used it on a giant gross spider.
CHAPTER FOUR
2014 Shane: The Guy From Underworld and Love Actually
Shane keyed in the last couple letters to finish his post about the portal spider from yesterday. He found waiting until the next day to write about things always gave his brain the needed time to sort out the details, plus he had more time to think of amazing titles. He pressed publish and 'Yes, Hell Has Spiders and They are Gross’ went up on the site.
He closed the laptop and slid it into his bag. His wife was standing there behind the laptop when he closed it. She was putting stuff in her bag for the day. Sorry, I should correct that by saying she was bent over putting stuff in her bag for the day and Shane watched in amazement. He wasn't sure, not having the ability to see himself, but he was pretty certain his mouth was hanging open.
She turned and saw him, he quickly tried to act busy moving some papers around. He knew she wouldn't buy it, his mouth-hanging-open level of attraction to her. If she did, Shane figured she probably wouldn’t care. She smiled and picked her large gym bag up.
“See you tonight, honey,” she blew him a kiss and grabbed her keys. “Don’t forget about dinner.”
“Ok,” he nodded, “Wait, what about dinner?”
“It’s in our calendars,” she said as she went out the door. It clicked shut behind, and he came to a conclusion that there was a real strong possibility he was never going to have sex again. He let out a sigh and grabbed his work bag.
The car ride to work was uneventful, basically everything in your life is after you’ve seen a hell spider. He really needed to come up with a name for that thing. He still couldn’t believe that none of this was on the mainstream news yet. He’d clicked around all the news sites last night and no one anywhere had mentioned anything like it outside of his own blog. Jason had convinced him a long time ago it was better to play this as Batman rather than Iron Man. Everyone knows who Iron Man is, so his normal life is shot to shit. Whereas Batman can still date the girls from whatever show is in town and still throw his own tights on at night, no one's the wiser. If they want to publish about any of this, their lives would be changed forever. How could he ever apply for another job again? They’d google him and then promptly move his resume to the trash can.
He pulled into the stall at work, the two mammoth trucks on either side were playing Pac-Man with the yellow lines that divided the stalls. Shane squeaked out his door and slid towards the back of the car. Both trucks were sporting those ever so subtle signs that the driver has an incredibly small penis, yep the trucks had testicles hanging from the trailer hitch. He looked at one than the other. He was sure he had a knife in his emergency kit, he could grab the knife, cut the balls off and dispose of the testicular evidence Lightning McQueen fast, ok maybe he’d been watching too many kid’s movies with his nieces & nephews.
He turned, trying his best to ignore the giant balls and headed off to work. The building was relatively new and required that he swipe his access card as he got to the door. He had to swipe it again to get the elevator to move, and one last time to get onto his floors, probably overkill. He passed through the door that led him into the cubicle farm. Rows and rows of little cubes, people’s homes away from home. The floor was deserted, he loved being the first one here. It’s not that he didn’t like the people he worked with, he actually really liked them, he just found standard morning small talk unfuckingbearable. They’d ask how his night or weekend was, and what was he suppose to say? 'Oh you know, investigated some ghosts who keep waking people up by fucking too loudly,' or 'nearly shit my pants from running through the woods from something that he would only describe as toothy, or maybe just the Hell Spider would be enough'. He hated lying and making up some bull shit story, so it was just better to avoid morning chit-chat.
He passed through the rows, it was also a good time to see just what other people kept in their cubicles without them feeling like you are judging them. He passed by a cubicle with a what looked like a Tribble stuck to a monitor, definitely a Treky. Another cube with pictures
of cats everywhere, that was basically a warning sign to stay away. The cubicles he liked best were the ones with family pictures, he knew they weren’t his family but seeing a smiling happy family made him happy. He rounded another corner towards his desk when he noticed the glow of a monitor from his bosses’ cube.
Shane froze. Out of everyone here, his boss was the very last person he wanted to talk with. And for the exact opposite reason of everyone else. His boss knew about everything and wanted to know more. No way around, he had to pass. He rocked back on his heels and felt like an Olympic pole vaulter, maybe he could just leap over the cube without him noticing.
“Hello, Shane.”
Fuck. He wasn’t even in the cubicle, how did he know? Shane slowed his walk since he was screwed already, might as well lean into it.
“Hey Boss, did you have a good…”
“That was your post wasn’t it?” he got up from his desk and took his glasses off. “I’ve read those posts so many times I can tell when it’s your writing now, it was you, right? Plus, it matches your standard grammar from your work reports.” He was using his glasses to point at Shane.
“Yep, it was me,” Shane knew he’d read the site, heck when IT tried to block it at one point, it was him who had battled to keep it free for the people or whatever bullshit he'd used. But learning Shane’s writing style was something else, or maybe he just always knew it was Shane’s based on the massive spelling mistakes.
“Come on, give me some details.” Now’s probably a good time to point out a few things about Shane’s boss. He’s old, British and basically sounds and looks like Bill Nighy. You know the guy from Underworld and Love Actually, such a good movie, Love Actually that is not Underworld, go rent it. Anyways, in Shane’s head, he basically was Bill Nighy so we’ll just call him Bill Nighy. Don’t be confused, Shane is well aware he isn’t actually Bill Nighy, just wanted to point that out.
“Details man, details! Should I book us a meeting room?” Bill was excited, and Shane hated to be a dick, plus it was almost time for his annual review.
“You know what sure. Fine. Let me put my bag down and check my email, then I’ll come back and tell you all about it.”
Shane wasn’t sure but there was a good chance Bill peed a little with excitement, the faint smell of urine hinted at it. Bill clapped Shane on the back, and Shane took that as a sign that yes, he would be getting that raise at his review.
He left Bill’s cube and went down the row to his. He realized at this point how dumb it was to have only one way to his cubicle, wasn’t there some fire code that should prevent that? Or maybe he’s expected to leap over the cubes in an emergency. He should bring that up to someone. Plus, having an extra path to his desk that doesn’t cross in front of his bosses’ cube is an added bonus.
As always his desk was how he left it Friday night, everything put away nicely and cleaned off. He hated leaving it disorganized. It lacked the charm that most other people’s desks had. He did have a picture of him and the Mrs., plus a mug that said Worlds Best Entry Level Employee, and that’s about it. Except for a FedEx package in front of the monitor. He grabbed it and flipped it over to read the from address, it listed somewhere he’d never heard before, Barrhead. He’d have to google it later. He double checked that it was to him, the address matched his work address but it was listed to a Vaughn Ashby. Obviously not his name but it was who he posted under on the website. He paused before opening it, how did someone put together to use that name and this address? The two should not be connected at all. Ok, he was really curious and ripped it open.
The great thing about the blog was that no one was supposed to know who had entered what, everyone posted under the same name. He should never get strange packages from people or have to chat with his boss about it for that matter.
He peeked into the box, sticking his hand in without looking first seemed like a poor choice. It could be from the Hell Spider, or maybe the spider’s wife, do spiders have wives? FedEx does deliver to a shit ton of places. Nothing jumped out at him, so that was good. Still alive and breathing a little bit too hard for simply opening mail, he pulled the contents out. It was a journal, labeled simply 'M'. He ran his hand across the cover expecting layers of dust to roll off, they didn’t, it was clean.
Had Bill sent him this? It would make a lot of sense actually if it was from Bill, but why mail it? He’d have to find a way to ask him about it that wouldn’t give anything away if it turns out he didn’t send it. Just another topic he didn’t want to talk about if he didn’t have to.
The book looked to be in very good condition, it wasn’t a new book by any means, just a well taken care of book. A leather exterior with nice thick quality paper on the inside. His fingers traced the title, he was almost mesmerized by it. What the fuck did the M stand for? Was there an A to L he wasn't privy to? His fingers wrapped around the cover, about to open it when he heard a couple familiar voices.
Shane flipped the book over and moved it to the side, then he threw the packing under his desk. He didn’t know if he was ready to share it just yet, so he grabbed a pen and paper to pretend to take notes about something.
That’s when Travers came in, he dropped himself into the chair in front of Shane’s desk. He flashed Shane a smirk that quickly went away. Travers hated smiling, he had no time for it, besides the ladies loved his calm cool and serious smirk look.
“Did you find the source of the signal?” Shane asked, neither of them bothering to say hello. By this point between the two of them it was a waste of time.
“No,” Travers said threw chewing his gum. “The station has to be in that area somewhere, but no luck last night. Pratt and I were all over it, nothing.”
Shane was about to ask where Pratt was, then he heard Bill laughing and knew exactly where he was. His eyes quickly glanced at the book, then back to Travers. “Strange, it's a strong signal, should be easy to…” he trailed off noticing Travers’ arms were covered in some sort of purple substance. Actually, it was splattered all over him. “What the fuck is this?” Shane pointed with his pen. “That better fucking come off that chair easy.”
Travers ran his hands over his head, where his hair should be, he liked keeping it buzzed beyond short. Again he did it for the ladies. “So we may have got off track a little last night.”
“OK, what’s a little off track?”
“It’s a long story, I can show…”
“How did you get up here? No, it doesn’t matter, go on.”
Travers sat back and crossed his legs, “There is no way you're going to believe it. I should just go put it on the site and you can read about it there.”
“Fuck that,”
“Oh, I flirted with a woman in the parking lot and stole her key card, I may have I kissed her.”
“Wait, maybe that’s the story you should tell me about.”
The laughing from down the cubicle hall got louder. Pratt and Bill came up behind Travers. The cubicle was feeling small.
“You’ve got the best boss ever, you should totally get him a Worlds Best Boss mug,” Pratt said as Shane eyed his own mug.
“Mark here was telling me about there little adventure last night, it was, well a rousing tale,” Bill said. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
It should probably be pointed out at this point that both Pratt and Travers are last names. Both of them are named Mark and both of them hate the name. So they go by Travers and Pratt, and they will go to great lengths to point it out that they prefer their last names, just like Oprah, Cher & Ruxin. Those might not all be last names. Anyways.
“Actually, it’s Pratt.”
“Actually, why don’t you get to the fucking…” Shane was interrupted.
“That is a nice looking book you have there Shane,” Bill was leaning over Travers to get a better look. “Where on earth did you get it? The binding is exquisite.”
Well, that crossed Bill off the list of possible senders. Shane slid the book away from Bill. “Someon
e sent it to me, can you please tell me what the fuck happened last night, what are you covered in?” he gestured to Travers then looked over at Pratt, he also had the purple stuff on him. “If you tell me that’s slime so help me, that will never wash out of that chair.”
Travers got up, “Come on, it’s easier if we just show you.”
“Two words, field trip,” Pratt said as he high-fived Bill again.
The four of them made their way back through the three security card checkpoints and passed the woman who’s card Travers had borrowed at the front desk, she was filling out some paperwork. She smacked Travers’ ass on the way by, he smirked, someone was going to have an HR meeting for sure. They crossed the parking lot and found Pratt’s jeep. Bright orange and muddy as hell. The sun was finally coming up and exposed the jeep for the muddy mess it was.
Pratt put his hand on the latch to open the back door of the jeep. In the light of the sun, Shane could see just how disheveled both him & Travers were. “Shane try not to get too giddy when you see this, and Bill I like you but please try not to shit yourself.”
He pulled the latch and the door opened. There was a large something draped in garbage bags. Shane’s first thought was that they’d killed a hooker and lost their minds, but then he figured that was dumb. Why would they want to show him that? Plus, based on the size of whatever was under there it would be one very big boned hooker. Pratt pulled a couple bags off, and Bill pooped a little.
CHAPTER FIVE
2014 Pratt & Travers: A Little More Rape-y Then I Expected
What Travers can do with data is nothing short of art. Finding patterns, outliers, statistical holes, you name it and he can probably do it better than you. Basically, if there were an Olympic sport for it he’d be getting his brains fucked out at the Olympic village and they’d just hand him the medal.
So when he told Shane that he narrowed down the area for the signal they’d been investigating, Shane didn’t question him. When Travers asked him to accompany him into said woods however, Shane said he had a thing. Shane had a thing with forests in general. So he was out here with Pratt, who to be fair was probably better equipped physically for the challenge.
