by Gary Jonas
“Did you say something?” I asked.
“And I rest my case.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Demetrius sat on the front porch of the house he still haunted. As always, he wore his yellow shirt, brown shorts, and flip-flops. He was lucky the ectoplasmic boogers he always dug out of his nostrils couldn’t be wiped on his ghost shirt. He wasn’t picking his nose right now, but I knew I needed to be ready in case he started. He liked to wipe the extractions on me.
I pulled up to the curb and parked. Kevin peered out the window at the ghost.
“The kid is waiting for you?” Kevin asked.
“No,” I said. “He likes to sit on the porch in the afternoon. When you’re dead, it’s sometimes good to see life going on around you.”
“If you say so,” Kevin said.
I grabbed the bag of comics I’d picked up on the drive over, and climbed out of the car. The neighborhood was quiet, which suited me fine. An old woman sat in a rocking chair on her front porch a few houses down, but she was the only other person I saw. Other than that, it was old houses and palm trees lining both sides of the street.
“Hey, Demetrius,” I said waving the brown paper bag.
“Hi, Brat.”
“Brett,” I said.
“That’s what I said.”
“I brought you some comics.”
He perked up. “Cool.”
I walked up to the porch and sat down beside him.
“What did you bring me? Something awesome, I hope!”
He didn’t look at Kevin, so maybe Demetrius couldn’t see him. It was hard to tell with Demetrius.
“I always make awesome choices. Check it out,” I said and pulled a comic book out of the bag. “The latest issue of Power Man and Iron Fist. I figured you’d want to catch up.”
Demetrius frowned. “Oh. Sabrina brought that issue to me last week.”
“She did?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I also grabbed a couple of old Werewolf by Night comics,” I said as I took them out of the bag.
His eyes widened, and I knew I was on the right track. “Is Brother Voodoo in them?”
Maybe I wasn’t on the right track. “No, but he fights Dracula in this one.”
“I don’t like Dracula.”
“Oh,” I said, and tried to save myself. “This one has other vampires on the moon. You like vampires, don’t you?”
“Sure, I guess. I mean, I like Michael.”
“There you go. Check this one out.”
He looked at the cover of the comic book where two vampires held the werewolf in a combined full nelson on the moon with the planet Earth visible in the background. A vampire chick named Liza was chomping down on the werewolf’s shoulder while the vampire dude in a cape told her in no uncertain terms that even a wolf-man could feed the undead. Demetrius shook his head. “Looks like Dracula.”
To be honest, I thought it was Dracula when I bought it. What kid doesn’t like Dracula? Obviously, the one I was buying for. My bad.
“Got any others?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, dude, I thought three was good enough.”
“Sabrina bought me ten comics this week.”
“Wow,” I said, thinking, that bitch. “She sure showed me. I’ll do better next time.”
Demetrius sighed. “It’s okay, Brat.”
“Brett.”
“Whatever.”
“Want me to read one of the comics Sabrina brought over?”
“She already read them to me. She and Michael are coming over tonight with a computer to show me a movie where Will Smith fights aliens.”
“Independence Day?” I asked, surprised that he knew who Will Smith was. He hadn’t seen a movie since the early 1980s.
“No, we watched that last week. It was cool. This time it’s a series, though. I think there are three of them. Men in Black.”
“Yeah, there are three of them. Fun movies. You’ll like them. Okay then.”
“We might even do a triple feature! Sabrina and Michael are so cool. I love it when they come over.”
Kevin hopped off the porch and pointed a finger at me. “The implication, in case you missed it, is that you aren’t cool, Brett.”
Demetrius didn’t react, so that meant Kevin was invisible and inaudible to him. I didn’t respond. Instead I just nodded to Demetrius. “Yeah,” I said. “They are pretty cool. How often do they visit you?”
“They come over quite a bit. Sabrina will sometimes come alone in the daytime, and Michael will sometimes come alone at night too.”
“I see. Well, I’ll tell you what, Dee, you tell me which comics you want and I’ll buy them for you.”
“Don’t call me Dee,” he said. “That’s Sabrina’s nickname for me. And don’t worry about the comics. She brings me all the comics I need. But thanks for stopping by. I’m gonna go inside now. Catch ya in a few weeks.”
He got up and walked through the door.
Kevin stared at me. “Few weeks? The ghost kid is all alone and you see him every few weeks?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what? Sleeping?”
“Working on magic.”
“All day?”
“Shut up, Kevin.”
“I gotta hand it to you, Brett. I’ve never seen a ghost sigh before. Good job.”
“I don’t get credit for trying?”
It sounded better in my head. When I spoke the words out loud, I felt like a shithead. You shouldn’t have to try to be friends with someone. Especially a lonely ghost boy.
“This is getting a bit too Dickensian for me,” I said. “If you show up as the Demon of Christmas Future, I’m gonna get worried.”
But Kevin didn’t pay any attention to me. He slid into the car and waited.
I sat on the porch for a few more minutes feeling sorry for myself. Then I put on my big boy pants and went to the car. It was time to go home. I needed a nap.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
My balls hurt.
I woke up from my nap and gingerly moved my legs over the side of the bed. My first thought was that Kevin must have kicked me while I slept, but he wasn’t even in the room. Maybe he kicked me and ran? But no, the pain felt different. Like it was coming from inside my testicles. I stood and stumbled to the dresser. I checked the time on my phone. 6:30.
Apollo wanted me to audition at seven. And then I remembered his warning. I pulled off my underwear and examined my balls. They were less than half normal size.
“Kevin!” I yelled.
Kevin rushed into the room with an evil grin. “You rang?” he said as if he were playing a tiny red version of Lurch from The Addams Family.
“Did you do this?” I asked, pointing at my nut sack.
Kevin crept up to me. He got down on one knee and stared up at my balls. “Congratulations,” he said. “You’re becoming a eunuch.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No, but this is,” he said, grabbing my dick and yanking it twice as he made a high-pitched train whistle. “Toot toot!”
“Don’t touch my dick, you douchebag!”
“Don’t dangle it in front of me.”
“Blow me. Wait. Don’t blow me.”
He grinned. “Make up your mind. But be warned, I have sharp teeth.”
I pulled my underwear back on then stepped into a pair of shorts. “Did you shrink my balls, or did Apollo?”
“It’s not my work. I’d make them get bigger and bigger until they exploded, but your father won’t let me do actual harm to you.”
“So this is Apollo’s way of getting me to audition?”
“Figured that one out all by your lonesome?”
I walked to the closet. My balls throbbed as they got smaller. I pushed shirts on hangers from side to side. “Where’s my Korn T-shirt?”
“Next to your broccoli T-shirt.”
“Korn the band, dumbass.”
“Like I’m up to date on Earth music.”
/> “Screw it,” I said, and threw on a plain black T-shirt. “Where’s my guitar?”
“Not my day to keep up with it.”
“Move,” I said, pushing him aside.
“Be nice or I’ll piss on your brand-new pillow.”
“Please don’t.”
“Well, since you said the magic word, and since I don’t need to go right now, your pillow is safe.”
I went downstairs.
Sabrina was in the kitchen cooking dinner.
“Do I smell bacon?” I asked.
“You do,” she said. “What were you yelling about?”
“Don’t worry about it. Why are you making bacon now? It’s dinnertime.”
“Anytime is good for bacon.”
“Can’t argue with that. Have you seen my guitar?”
She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “It was doing a dance in the backyard earlier.”
“Very funny.”
“You asked.”
“Is Michael coming over?”
“Later. He has to pick up some blood at the hospital first.”
“You two are quite the couple.”
She flipped the bacon in the pan with a pair of tongs. It sizzled and popped. “We’re going through a rough patch.”
“Because of Helen?”
“The siren you’re helping? That’s only part of it. I think Michael’s getting tired of me.”
“He hasn’t said anything like that to me.”
“Guys always get tired of me. Who needs them?”
“I certainly don’t.”
She moved the bacon around with the tongs. “You slept through today’s magic lesson, and your demon wouldn’t let me wake you.”
“I have an audition.”
“What? You’re leaving the band?”
“No. Let me rephrase that. I’m being forced to audition. I think I’m going to intentionally tank it, but I still need my guitar.”
“Did you bring it inside after the last gig?”
“How should I know? I’ve slept since then.”
“Check the backseat of your car.”
“Good idea.”
I took small steps as I moved toward the hall.
“Is something wrong? You’re walking funny.”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
I went outside, and peered into my backseat. Sure enough, my guitar was there. Good.
Kevin came outside carrying my shoes. He thrust them into my gut. “You might want these.”
“I should go brush my teeth.”
“Why? You going to kiss Apollo?”
“No, but Helen might be there.”
“She won’t kiss you either. You messed that up by talking.”
“Maybe I can win her over.”
“To know you is to hate you, dipshit. Now, unless you want to be the Ball-less Wonder, we should hit the road.”
Kevin was right. Time was slipping away and it was taking my family plans with it.
“Get in.”
I yanked on the door handle. The door didn’t open.
“I forgot to grab my keys. I’ll be right back.”
Kevin leaned against the car and laughed. “Might want to move a little faster. Once the balls are gone, your cock is next. And truth be told, you can’t afford any shrinkage in that department.”
Demons should be ignored. Pretty much always. The pain in my balls intensified as I stepped into the house. I grabbed my crotch and winced. Sabrina now sat on the sofa munching on a strip of bacon.
“Do you have to pee?” she asked.
“I’m good,” I said, and went upstairs to fetch my keys.
By the time I came back downstairs, she had the TV on and was watching a rerun of Friends. Chandler was asking Joey what kind of scary-ass clowns went to his birthday parties. Sabrina laughed, and I left the house.
“Chop chop, baby balls,” Kevin said.
“Not funny.”
He grinned. “Not to you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Traffic was sparse, but I managed to get stuck at every light. Every time I sat there waiting for the light to change, I squirmed in my seat and scrunched my face in agony. It seemed like the lights were timed to stop me no matter how quickly I took off at each intersection. As the light turned red ahead of me, I glanced over at Kevin, who stared out the passenger window.
“Are you doing this?” I asked.
“Doing what?”
“Making the lights change.”
“They’re on a timer, stupid.”
“Timed to stop me.”
“Relax. Even if your balls disappear, you’ll still have your sparkling personality to fall back on. Oh, wait…” He slowly grinned at me, then pointed ahead. “Light’s green.”
When I pulled into the parking lot by the recording studio, I was irritated and hurting and tired and scared.
The car clock changed from 6:58 to 6:59.
“You’d better run,” Kevin said. “If you don’t get inside by seven, you won’t have anything left in your ball sack. I’ll carry your guitar for you.”
I took off running for the door. Every step hurt.
“You’re welcome!” Kevin called after me.
The door was locked.
I knocked.
No answer.
I doubled over in pain, and pounded on the door.
Still no answer.
Kevin reached the door with my guitar case in his right hand. “It’s seven o’clock. Do I rename you Captain Eunuch now?”
“Get the damn door open.”
He laughed. “Seven oh one, Nutless Nimrod.”
I dropped to my knees. The pain shot up into my gut. I pounded on the door one last time.
Finally, Apollo opened the door. He looked down at me. “I see you’re finally discovering penitence. Admirable.”
“Give me back my balls!”
Kevin elbowed my shoulder. “He’s like a whining little brat on a playground, ain’t he?”
“Indeed,” Apollo said. “Come on in, Mr. Masters.”
“Ms. Masters,” Kevin said. “No cojones, no mister.”
I grabbed the door handle and pulled myself to my feet. It still hurt like a son of a bitch. I staggered into the building. Kevin followed me with the guitar case.
Apollo walked down the hall to the studio. “Go in here.”
“I want my balls back, and I want the pain to stop.”
“You’ll have to earn them. There’s a stool in the center of the room. Sit there, and place the microphone in front of you, adjusted to guitar level. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded.
There were a number of microphones, speakers, various musical instruments crowding the back wall, and of course, the window to the meeting room. Another window across the way faced a control room, where Helen stood behind a bank of buttons and dials with the engineer, Thomas.
On the positive side, someone had cleaned the window to the meeting room.
On the negative side, I found it difficult to breathe through the pain. When I gingerly touched my crotch, I couldn’t feel anything beneath my dick. Smooth as a goddamn Ken doll.
Kevin followed me into the room and as I sat on the stool, he opened my guitar case.
When he carried the guitar over to me, I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close. “Helen said I don’t want to pass this audition,” I whispered. “What did she mean?”
He grinned at me and shoved the guitar into my gut. “Maybe she likes you better as a girl.”
Helen’s voice came over a speaker above me. “Get the demon out of the studio.”
Kevin patted my shoulder. “You’re on your own, kid. Make me proud.”
I flipped him off.
“Oh, baby,” he said and left the room.
“I told you not to audition,” Helen said.
“Can you hear me?” I asked.
“Of course. Apollo will be here in a second. Make sure you mess up your playing. Don’t use the mag
ic pick.”
“He took my balls.”
“He did what?” She shook her head. “Don’t repeat it. Trust me, you’re better off without them as long as you’re not in his band.”
“I disagree.”
Apollo entered the control room. Thomas put on a pair of headphones and gave him a nod. Then Thomas sat down out of my view, and Apollo waved to me through the window as he approached Helen. He leaned into a microphone. “Play something with balls, Elvis.”
A Greek god quoting the movie Road House was not what I expected. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t Jeff Healey, but I doubted he’d know the name. I considered laying the guitar across my lap like Healey and playing the way he did. I could even do “Hoochie Coochie Man.” But I couldn’t play properly that way, and Healey had never used my pick.
I adjusted the microphone, plucked the magic pick from between the strings where I’d tucked it after our last gig. I turned on my wireless amp, and hoped the batteries would last. I hadn’t recharged them, and while I might have been able to boost the power with magic, I was too focused on trying to ignore the pain.
Fortunately, the pick had pre-paid blood magic, so even if I hit the wrong chords or tapped the wrong string to get a harmonic or did a bad hammer on, or pull-off, the magic from the pick would give me a flawless performance.
He wanted something with balls. Fine. I launched into “Eruption” by Van Halen.
“Enough,” Apollo said. “Play something pretty.”
Pretty? “Okay,” I said, and played Joe Satriani’s “The Forgotten (Part Two).” While I didn’t have the backing instruments, the lead guitar opening the song was one of my favorites.
He cut me off after ninety seconds, right before things sped up in the song.
“Play a ballad.”
“Fine,” I said, and started playing “Still Loving You” by The Scorpions.
He stopped me after a bit. “Can you play an acoustic?” he asked.
