‘‘‘Passionately, looking Herod directly in the eyes, eventually dropping those same seductive eyes to his visible hard-on creating a Leaning Tower of Pisa in the lap of his tunic, Salome tore the fishnet bodysuit from her chest. Her breasts fell like two swollen grapefruits from the confines of the fishnet. They bounced once, and Herod’s rod filled with so much blood he soon felt lightheaded. Salome’s nipples, pink with ruddy areolas, hardened until they were painful. They stood at attention, saluting Herod’s purple meat thermometer like two loyal soldiers.
‘‘‘King Herod ordered his burly entourage surrounding him to leave. Some whined, others took their plates with them so they could finish eating outside. He ordered the women sitting next to his wife, Herodias, to follow. Herodias stood to leave with them, but he motioned for her to sit back down.
‘‘‘As his court shuffled quickly out of the room, Salome crawled on her knees up his throne. She put one hand under his tunic and wrapped her fingers around his royal shaft. Herod watched the expression on her face change once she realized his kingly size. She slowly began to jerk her hand up and down, her palm sweaty and his pulsating bratwurst swelling to epic proportions.
‘‘‘She inched closer to him, crawling between his sandaled feet. She dropped her head to his right ankle and began kissing her way up his leg. She stopped at his knee, her hand still on his cock, and looked up at him. King Herod closed his eyes, trying his hardest not to blow his load right then and there. He pulled his tunic up until he was fully exposed.
‘‘‘Across the room, King Herod’s wife, Herodias, blew a kiss at her husband and flicked her tongue against the top of her lips. Seconds later, His Highness looked down to find Salome’s mess of hair covering his waist. Her head moved up and down like the wheel of a chariot. Salome moaned as she took him into her sticky warm mouth. Herodias released her robes to reveal a pair of perfectly rounded tits and walked over to her husband. She came up slowly behind her daughter and tilted her breasts over her noble husband’s face. King Herod devoured them greedily, until they were red with bite marks and scratches from his beard.’’’
Boy’s phone buzzes.
‘Who is it?’ Salome asks.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well look.’
‘Later, it’s probably just a friend or maybe my mom.’
‘Could be a gallery?’
‘Unlikely.’ Boy makes a mental keep his phone on silent from now on. ‘Continue, please.’
‘‘‘Herodias leaned forward and whispered into her daughter’s ear, ‘Ask for the head of John the Baptist.’ Salome, cock still in her mouth, looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye. Herodias nodded and returned her hand the back of her daughter’s head. ‘You always were a good daughter.’ With that, she pushed her daughter’s head back down onto her husband’s member. Salome continued slurping until she heard her stepfather say again, ‘I’ll do anything for you.’ King Herod was close now; she could feel him tensing up. ‘Ask him now,’ Herodias hissed.
‘‘‘Salome peeled her mouth off her stepfather and looked up at him with big doe eyes. ‘Anything?’ she asked. ‘I’ll do anything!’ he said, unable to control himself. She ran her cheek along the insides of his legs. ‘Anything?’ she purred. ‘Anything! Dammit, I swear!’ He cried out. ‘John the Baptist,’ Salome whispered. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘John the Baptist’s head.’ She kisses the other side of his thigh. King Herod looked from his step-daughter to his wife. ‘It shall be done,’ he said finally. He placed his hand on Salome’s head and guided it back to his salami piston.’’’
‘His what?’ Boy laughed. ‘Where do you get these words?’
‘I just try and combine things that are meaty with things that move up and down—salami piston, meat spring, sausage pumper. It’s kind of fun.’
‘So when’s the threesome happen?’
‘Be patient! You’re a horrible listener.’
₪₪₪
Salome reads to him for another fifteen minutes and announces she has to leave. She asks if he wants to meet for dinner, but Boy declines, telling her he’s tired. Once she leaves, Boy begins cleaning up the broken lamp in his living room.
He finishes sweeping all the pieces onto an old newspaper and goes into the kitchen to drop it into the trash can. Curiously, the trashcan is gone from its normal place. Holding the debris in what resemble an oversized paper taco, Boy walks back into the living room, searching for the trash can. The trashcan is now to the right of the front door.
What the hell? Boy picks up the trash can and takes it back to the kitchen. His phone buzzes again and he finally checks it. Two messages from Friend, three from Maeve, one missed call from Salome, one missed call and a message from Mom.
Friend’s message: Dude what it doeth? When thoust haseth the time calleth upon me. I haveth a tidbit of information of great benefit to thee. Friend’s second message: Dudebroeth, whereupon art thou? At great speed getteth at me.
Maeve’s first message: Hey, are u with Nobody? Maeve’s second message: What are u going to do today? Maeve’s third message: Am I annoying you? If u r free tonight, give me a call. Maybe we can watch a movie at my place? :-*
Mom’s message: Hi, give me a call soon. It’s about your sister.
Slightly overwhelmed, Boy sits down on his couch and looks at the thin streak of blue paint on his floor. All this and now another ghost. How many more will there be?
₪₪₪
When Boy was a child, he lived in several different housing projects with Mom and Girl. They wouldn’t live there long, maybe a year, then it was off to some new place. Mom hated the housing projects – too many minorities – and would go on racial tirades the likes of which would have given an imperial grand wizard a zipper-snapping boner.
In Philadelphia, they moved into the shabby one bedroom apartment, the smallest place they would ever live, and prepared for the biting Philly winter. Mom took an overnight job at a pretzel factory, always managing to bring home pretzels for breakfast. Every night, Boy settled in next to Girl, sharing the mattress that unfolded from the depths of the couch. It wasn’t a glamorous life by any means, but it worked, and the three quickly settled into a routine.
One night, Boy awoke after feeling something brush against his face. He turned to see the whites of a man’s eyes bearing down upon him. The man stepped away and fell back into the shadows. Boy kicked off his blanket. He tried to scream, but his voice was caught in his throat, lodged like there was a clump of hair keeping the sound from passing through. It was the first ghost he would see, the ghost that opened the floodgates for the haunts to follow.
The man re-emerged from the shadows. Skinny, shirtless with a sharp collar bone. Darkness swelled around him, fog-like and thick. They stared at each other, Boy trembling as the shadows swung in arcs across the man’s chiseled face.
What do you want? Boy finally whispered.
The man turned back to the shadowy corner. As soon as the coast was clear, Boy hopped up and flicked on the light. Sparks of luminosity sprayed to the far reaches of the room. Girl continued to snore lightly.
Boy grabbed the nearest object, one of his winter boots, and turned towards the corner. The corner was empty; the kitchen was empty; the bathroom was empty. Boy checked the windows. They were locked from the inside. He checked the pantry. Nothing.
Boy assumed he was dreaming and went back to bed. Hours later, Mom came home with pretzels and pastries from Dunkin’ Donuts. They ate and Boy didn’t say a word about what he’d seen. Mom didn’t need anything else to stress about.
The next night, Mom left just before eight, and Boy and Girl went to bed at the same time, just after ten. The sounds of the apartments around him soothed him to sleep as they had the night before. He awoke ice-bath cold. The covers had been stripped off the two of them. Girl was shivering next to him, clutching her knees to her chest. Boy could see the whites of the man’s eyes in the corner again – he knew the man had taken the blanket.
&
nbsp; Boy sat up slowly and asked, W-w-what do you want?
The man dipped into the yellow light stemming from the parking lot outside. His head sat awkwardly on a body that seemed too big. His skin, a midnight blue, made it difficult to see the parts of his body that weren’t clothed. He held the end of the blanket in his hands. The rest cascaded down to the floor like a gloomy bride’s dress.
Can you speak? Boy suppressed the sense of the terror with a big gulp of stale air.
The man shook his head.
You took our blanket, Boy said.
The man nodded his head.
I can see you, Boy said.
The man nodded his head.
Can my sister see you?
The man shook his head.
So you’re dead?
The man nodded his head. The man shook his head.
Do you want to hurt us?
The man shook his head. He took a step forward and handed Boy the blanket. Boy took it from him, still in the bed, and draped it around his sister.
What do you want? Boy asked.
The man continued to stare at him.
Did you used to live here?
The man nodded his head and turned back towards the shadow.
Thanks, Boy said.
Mom came home the following morning with lukewarm pretzels. She scrambled eggs and tossed the pretzels in. Once mustard was poured over the concoction, she christened it a North Philly Breakfast. They ate, went to school while Mom slept, and came home for dinner, a mixture of sliced pretzels and hot dogs sautéed with onions Mom called a North Philly dinner.
Mom left for work and Boy and Girl went to sleep at their normal time. Boy awoke a few hours later and looked at the dark corner and asked, Are you there?
The whites of the man’s eyes opened in the corner like an animal in the wild. He shuffled out into the light.
How long have you been here? he whispered to the man.
The man looked at his long pointy fingers and began counting out a number. He flashed his hands at Boy. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.
Twenty years?
The man nodded.
Do you want to leave?
The man nodded.
Can I help you leave?
The man shrugged. He turned to go back to his corner.
Wait, Boy said. The man pivoted back to him and stepped back into the light.
How can I help you? I want to help you.
The man leaned forward into the light and bared his gums. All his teeth were missing and the spots where his teeth should have been were dark with rot. A rotten stench – eggs, broccoli, decay – filled the room.
What happened?
The man snapped his mouth shut.
You want me to find your teeth? Boy asked.
The man nodded.
I’ll try.
The next morning Mom didn’t come home in time for breakfast. She always worked late on Saturday mornings, hoping to gain some desperately needed overtime. Boy cooked eggs and canned corn with garlic powder, a dish they jokingly called Big Bird, which he ate alongside Girl in front of the television.
I need your help, Boy said to Girl, lowering the volume of the cartoon.
What kind of help?
I think there might be some teeth around here.
Teeth?
I need to find them.
What kind of teeth?
Probably white teeth. Can you help me? If you help me find them, I’ll buy you a Whatchamacallit.
Sure.
Our secret though, okay?
Okay.
Promise not to tell Mom?
Cross my heart, hope to die.
Together they moved the couch, no easy feat due its weight, and searched beneath it. They split up, Boy rifling through Mom’s bedroom and Girl searching in the kitchen. With a flashlight, Girl checked under the shelves in the far back corner of the pantry.
Gross!
What is it? Boy asked.
I found a dead cockroach.
Pick it up and throw it away.
No way José! You pick it up. I promised to help you search, not clean!
Boy walked past Girl and entered the pantry. Where is it? He held a piece of toilet paper in his hand.
Um, it’s kind of under the plastic bags.
Boy lifted the plastic bag and found the crunchy cockroach on its back with its legs curled. He picked it up and noticed something against the wall. A streak of white paint covered the outline of a small circle about the size of a fist.
I think I found something, Boy said. He placed the dead cockroach wrapped in toilet paper on one of the shelves in the pantry.
What is it?
Go get me a screwdriver. The one with the flathead.
Okay, Girl said. Where is it?
In the drawer by the couch. Get me the flashlight, too.
Girl returned with the screw driver and the flashlight. Boy pointed at the small circle hidden by paint. Did you see that when you were looking in here?
No.
That might be where the teeth are.
Okay.
Remember, you can’t tell Mom.
I promise.
Boy jammed the screwdriver against the edge of the circle. The paint gave way and the piece of painted plywood fell to the floor. Give me the flashlight.
Girl gave Boy the flashlight and he shone it into the hole. He reached his hand in with his eyes closed, hoping something wouldn’t bite him. His hand latched onto an orange pill bottle and he quickly pulled it out into the light, the contents rattling against the inside of the bottle.
Whoa, he said, wiping the pill bottle against his leg to clean it.
What is it?
Ummmm, found it.
The teeth? Girl asked, excited.
Yep.
What are you going to do with them? I want to see!
He turned to show her the pill bottle full of teeth.
Can we open it?
Let’s not and say we did.
Please? she asked.
Fine, let me fix this hole first though. Got any gum?
No, but I can chew some.
Girl popped a few pieces of Wrigley’s in her mouth and chewed frantically. Boy threw the cockroach away and set the pill bottle on the counter. He thrust his palm out and Girl spit the gum into his hand. After pressing the gum around the rim of the hole, he stuck the piece of plywood back in its place.
He turned to find Girl opening the pill bottle.
Be careful, he said. You can look at them just once then I need to get them back from you. They aren’t toys.
Okay, don’t worry…
She sprinkled the teeth onto the linoleum countertop. The teeth were in various states of decay, brown and off-white, black with partially serrated edges. She started counting them, arranging them by size.
Thirty-two, she said.
Good, now let’s put them back.
Teeth are so cool! I think I will keep mine next time instead of giving them to the Tooth Fairy.
I wouldn’t do that. The Tooth Fairy might be angry.
Mom’s key jiggled into the door lock. The deadbolt clicked to the left once, twice. That familiar sound, déjà vu in a way.
Hurry! Boy said, scooping the teeth into the bottle. A single tooth fell to the floor, dinging like an iron mallet trickling across a marimba.
Go distract Mom!
Hi Mom! Girl said, running into the living room. She attacked her with a big hug, hanging off her body as she pulled her feet into the air.
Hi!
I missed you!
Boy used the distraction to drop to his knees. He began searching frantically for the last tooth.
Mom, how was work? Girl asked, trying her best to keep her away from the kitchen.
Boy noticed something lonely and white in the corner near the pantry and grabbed it. He tossed the final tooth in the pill bottle, capped it, shoved it into his pocket.
While Mom slept that afternoon, Boy and Girl played Uno
at the old kitchen table that had come with the place. Boy even let Girl look at the teeth once again, provided she didn’t drop any or let them leave the table. Later, after a quick trip to the store, Mom cooked dinner, a modified version of Charlotte’s Web at Girl’s request, and left again for work before they could finish eating.
That night, Girl fell asleep watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show reruns. She liked the show, but never quite understood the jokes. Boy made sure she was tucked in and turned the television off. The familiar sound of neighbors going about their lives bladed the cold air in the apartment.
Are you there? he asked, after waiting thirty minutes to make sure his sister was asleep.
The whites of the man’s eyes flickered in the corner as he stepped out into the light. He wore the same clothing he’d worn every night, had the same solemn look on his face.
I got your teeth, Boy said. All thirty-two.
At the edge of the bed now, the man nodded as Boy showed him the pill bottle. A bizarre smile spread across his face. The smile looked almost painful, as if the man hadn’t smiled in a long time. The man took the pill bottle from Boy and turned back to the corner.
That’s it? Boy called out. The man never looked back. That’s it?
Boy didn’t see the man again until two weeks before they were set to move out of the apartment. That night, Mom left even earlier for work than usual, and Boy ended up making Girl a quick Ren and Stimpy. They also shared a package of Chocolate Pop-Tarts, a treat that was usually rationed in their home.
Girl fell asleep not long after, while watching the Discovery Channel. Boy too started to drift off. He’d long since given up waiting for the mysterious Philly Ghost to return.
The sound of something being smashed sent a jolt through his spine. Girl screamed as a brick ricocheted against the steel bars covering their window. Glass scattered supernova. A gloved hand pushed the glass aside and reached inside, unlocking the door from the inside.
Boy grabbed his screaming sister’s hand and dragged her into the kitchen, where he retrieved the broom and ran back to the bed. The door popped open; a man wearing a ski mask pushed his way into the house. He pointed at Boy.
Boy versus Self: (A Psychological Thriller) Page 12
