by Grivante
“Get ready,” I said, holding up the hairspray and lighter.
“Jesus Christ!” Daniel said. “You’ll burn the building down!”
“Which is why you’ll grab the fire extinguisher once you can get to the door! Go get it, run right back and be ready to put the room out!”
Daniel nodded, eyes wide with fear. The Siberian-farmed parasite had slid into the room and was reassembling on the floor, claws and teeth bared. “GO!” I shouted at Daniel, taking aim.
Daniel tore the door open and ran, leaving me alone with the monster.
The lighter lit, I took aim with my hairspray flamethrower. The slimy reanimated spuds sensed an attack and leaped from the jet of flames onto my dresser. Without hesitation, the oozing monster lunged at me, claws extended and jaws open to eviscerate me with its broken rows of glass teeth.
I don’t know how I reacted so fast, but I ducked. The demon-taters missed me by inches and landed on the bed with a splat. I pivoted, hairspray still raised, lighter still lit and shot a wave of fire at the wretched reconstituted spud, catching it as it struggled to its feet. The microwavable mistake was engulfed in flame. It let out a high-pitched scream as its mushy flesh withered under my hairspray inferno, causing it to stumble and collapse on the bedding. Even as the buttery beast succumbed to the fire, it took feeble swipes at me with its jagged talons. Its claws raked the mattress, leaving deep gouges, but it advanced no further. The tormented tubers let out a final gasp and then crumbled from its humanoid form, overcome by the flames.
The bedding was also catching fire, but Daniel came roaring in and aimed the fire extinguisher at the dead monster and the bedroom at large. He didn’t stop until the canister was empty.
Can’t fault him for enthusiasm.
As the chemical fog settled, we were left standing in a powdery room, in front of a smoldering pile of instant mashed potatoes and glass. The bed was ruined, but we were unscathed.
The lighter and hairspray fell from my hands and Daniel set down the fire extinguisher. We looked at each other amidst the smoldering carnage.
“What do we do now?” Daniel asked.
“Want to sit on the balcony?”
“Wait, what? You want to sit outside after all this?”
“Damn it, Daniel. Come on. We could use a quiet moment, we’ll talk about it outside.”
We went and sat out on the balcony and held hands. After a while, Daniel said, “I wonder if those potatoes were GMOs.”
I didn’t glorify that comment with an answer. I mean, they were clearly modified in some way, but I wasn’t going to follow up on that one.
Daniel squeezed my hand and looked at me. “From now on, I’ll make real mashed taters with dinner.”
“Agreed.”
-END
To learn more about the author, Alex Colvin, find his author bio at
http://www.grivantepress.com/our-authors/our-authors/anthology-authors/alex-colvin/
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