by Amy Berg
From the manicured lawn of the Mediterranean mini-palace, Suzie took in the majestic view of downtown Los Angeles as she fidgeted with the cotton maxi dress that clung uncomfortably to the sweat forming under her cleavage. It was the only outfit she owned that strategically covered her tattoos. Well, most of them. The tail of the rising phoenix that snaked up her shoulder still peeked out from under her cap sleeve. For Jenn’s sake Suzie wore her hair down, hiding her razor-shaved temples and dyed purple streak. She was in Bel Air, after all. She didn’t want to scare the natives.
She had even donned pearls. Not real ones, of course, but close enough.
Rustling in nearby Oleander bushes startled Suzie and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She knew she was being watched. More rustling.
“Probably just deer,” surmised Amber, the aforementioned literal backseat driver and owner of the modest McMansion. She flashed Suzie an overly-collagen-injected-lipped smile. “But that’s life up in the hills, right? That’s why Ted and I love it here. We like being one with nature.”
Suzie nodded, “I could tell by the three Escalades in your driveway.”
Suzie veers past abandoned cars on the debris-filled canyon road. Next to her, Jenn repeats the Lord’s Prayer under her breath, while in the back a nervous Amber bleats. As Suzie turns off Mulholland, she thinks about her husband and kids. She wants to believe they’re sleeping in their beds, blissfully unaware. Safe. Suzie needs to see them. To hold them. She needs to get home. Now.
Suzie guns the minivan—a vehicle not conducive to gunning.
THUD!
“What the hell was that?!?!” Jenn yells.
Something heavy now hangs on to the car’s side panel door next to Amber. It tears at the vehicle’s outer shell, “It’s trying to break in!” she cries.
Thick, blackened nails rip through the metal, creating a large opening. Amber screams. Something furry, something bloody with blazing red eyes hisses back as it attempts to claw its way in.
Suzie felt the women’s stares upon entering the marble-lined hallway, her clogs silent amongst the cacophony of Louboutins, Choos and Blahniks.
Air kisses. Faux smiles.
Only Jenn’s urgent hand squeezes prevented Suzie from bolting.
After introductions—Suzie couldn’t keep them straight, they were all variations of the same woman, one somehow thinner than the next—Amber gushed to the others, “And this is Suzie. She brought a cobbler!”
The tall one, Brie? Feta? Some kind of cheese, piped up, “I hope it’s organic.”
Oh, it’s organic all right, Buster organic-ed all over that peach tree.
But before Suzie could open her mouth, Jenn answered for her, “She made it with fruit from her backyard.”
“How quaint,” replied the cheese one.
There’s that word again. Quaint. Like she was some fucking tchotchke they’d buy at an overpriced seaside tourist trap antique “shoppe.”
Katie, the red head with the unfortunate boob job, asked Suzie, “Are you planning on making us something tonight?”
It took a moment for Suzie to realize she was referring to the knitting needles poking out of her bag, “No, I always have these with me in case I need to pass the time.”
“Well, I hope you don’t plan on using them tonight. We wouldn’t want to bore you!” cackled Katie.
Too late. “Must be nice knowing how to knit your own clothes,” chimed Addie, the Brit, another skinny beauty whose face emitted an unnatural dewy glow. Knitting is not the same as sewing, asswipes.
But Suzie didn’t bother explaining. Or telling them that knitting beat the hell out of her hands. Or that it was an excuse to bond with her disapproving grandmother. The old hag might have appeared frail, but she was a nasty, withholding, vengeful bitch.
“Well aren’t you quite the homemaker?” Amber mused. “You make your own clothes. Grow your own food. Don’t tell Ted you do any of this or he’ll start getting ideas.”
“Your husband shouldn’t have ideas?” Suzie inquired. Another hand squeeze from Jenn. Hard.
Suzie swerves the car, trying to knock the revolting brute from the minivan. The hissing what-appears-to-be-a-raccoon still clutches to the side door. Jenn grabs the nearest object and heaves it towards the savage creature.
“Not my Birkin!!!” cries Amber. Her plea goes unnoticed. The enormous bag grazes off the rodent and flies out the door. “No!!!”
The unaffected putrid critter bares its sharp, crooked teeth.
“I don’t have time for this shit” mutters Suzie.
Suzie jerks the wheel sharply again, aiming the minivan toward a row of bushes just off the asphalt. The force flings off the crazed animal. When Suzie peers at the side view mirror, she sees the determined son-of-a-bitch still clinging on; its feral jaws clenching the running board.
Dammit.
The wild-eyed raccoon dives through the hole in the door in one swift move. His mouth open wide. Bellowing an Amazonian war cry, Jenn jumps into the backseat and jams her four-inch heel into the beast’s nasal cavity. Its death wail pierces the night as it releases and disappears into the darkness.
Suzie’s impressed. She may have to give Stilettos another try.
The women gathered in Amber’s perfectly decorated library. It displayed the right lamp, the right table, the right chairs… the kind that hurt in all the wrong places.
Suzie looked around, bothered by a faint but persistent wheezing sound just outside the house.
“Oh, that’s just Bob,” Amber assured her, “he’s our neighborhood squirrel. Poor little thing’s always looking for more food. Don’t worry, he’ll find his way to Felix’s stash through the cat door. That’s why we keep the laundry room door closed,” Amber cheerily winked. Suzie somehow managed to not vomit.
Then, instead of discussing one word of that miserable tome Suzie had forced herself to read while stealing five minutes on the toilet (the only respite when one’s home with toddlers), Amber presented Addie the Brit to the others.
“As most of you know, Addie here is an aesthetician--”
So that explains her freakish dewy glow.
“--and the two of us arranged a little something special for tonight.”
Held breaths. Suspense. “Surprise! It’s a botox party!” Squeals of delight. Suzie glared at Jenn, who shrugged, then mouthed back, “Pre. School.” Dammit.
Suzie needed a drink. She turned to find Addie blocking her path, botox needle in hand, expectant. An enthusiastic Amber, who stood next to Addie, gushed, “I’m telling you, it’s a total lifesaver. I swear you’ll thank me for this.”
Doubt it.
“No. I’m fine,” said Suzie. “You really should consider it,” offered Addie. “Jowls are no girl’s best friend.”
The minivan crests the hill. In the distance, on the vast and dark Valley floor, they see a neighborhood of twinkling lights. Electricity. Signs of life. Suzie and Jenn exchange relieved smiles. Suzie just needs to get them past Ventura Boulevard.
Behind her, a dejected Amber stares out the back. She brightens, “My Birkin! I see it! It’s still on the car!”
Both Suzie and Jenn interject, “Amber, no! Leave it!” “Are you fucking insane?!”
But a determined Amber peers out the open side panel at her bag miraculously caught on the back runner, “You don’t understand! It’s saltwater crocodile! You know how long that wait list was?”
Amber leans her weight out the door opening. Her fingers outstretched, “I can still reach it. Just. Another. Inch. Closer.”
“Ow!” exclaimed Katie, the enhanced redhead.
“Hold still!” reprimanded Suzie.
The two stood in Amber’s laundry “facility,” which was bigger than Suzie’s kitchen and living room… combined. Katie cutting her finger while slicing an under-ripe strawberry had given Suzie the perfect excuse to leave the insipid Botox-injecting spectacle.
Katie noticed her bloodstained skirt and pouted, “It’s ru
ined.”
Suzie had been mid eye roll when a loud hacking distracted her.
Felix the cat had feebly crawled in from outside and was now heaving on the cold, speckled, granite floor. Suzie could tell something was off. Katie, however, could not, “Oh, you poor thing.”
“I wouldn’t get too close.”
But Katie didn’t heed Suzie’s warning. Bent over and caressing the struggling cat, she didn’t notice the mangy squirrel that popped through the cat door. Or the next one. Or the next. Their pupils all similarly red and dilated.
Alarmed, Suzie grabbed Katie’s hand, “We’ve got to get out of here.” Katie looked back to the injured feline, just as Felix opened his eyes. Angry red pupils like the others. And in an instant, fangs bared, Felix leapt onto Katie’s neck and chomped down. Katie howled in fear and pain.
Suzie grabbed a nearby iron and bashed it against Felix’s head. Nothing. She pummeled him again. And again. Finally, his jaw slackened and let go. Katie collapsed, blood oozing from her punctured neck. Armed with spray cans of starch, Suzie jumped in front of the woman’s slumped body.
Before Felix and his mangled backup crew of deranged squirrels could lunge, Suzie unloaded the cans of their contents into the animals’ eyes, giving her the ten-second opening she needed to flee.
On her way out, Suzie pilfered nearby toilet bowl cleaner and bleach and dragged Katie from the room. But Suzie knew, judging from the telltale arterial spray splattered against the dryer, that Katie wouldn’t be waking up.
Suzie keeps her eyes focused on the winding canyon road ahead of her. She doesn’t dare look in the rear view mirror, dreading the outcome.
A scream forces her to glance behind her.
To Suzie’s surprise, Amber’s still alive, Jenn the only thing saving her from becoming another piece of road kill. But Jenn’s grasp on Amber’s ankles is slipping.
“Give me your hand!” Jenn shouts to Amber.
But Amber’s still determined to save her bag, “I can almost grab one of the handles!”
“Seriously, I’m losing my grip!” Jenn warns.
Amber doesn’t cave.
From the dense brush, a snarling, barbaric varmint, a former opossum perhaps, darts toward the opening. Seeing him, Suzie yanks the wheel to the left. The creature bounces off, but not before taking squealing Amber with him.
Addie had just applied the final touches to Amber’s freshly-botoxed forehead when a blood-soaked Suzie rushed back into the library, dragging the lifeless Katie behind her. Whatever her name, the cheese one-Gruyere? Gouda?—shrieked, startling the others. They all gasped upon seeing Suzie.
“Oh my god!”
“What happened to Katie?”
“Are you okay?”
Suzie couldn’t speak, winded from the short run. Dammit, why hadn’t she and Jenn actually worked out when they met at the gym?
Catching her breath, Suzie finally managed to say one thing, “RUN!”
That was when the others noticed the howling, hissing, and mewling that seemed to surround them. They huddled together, a whimpering, nervous mass.
The noises around them intensified. Suzie and Jenn locked eyes. Grim agreement. The scratching and clawing were coming from inside the house.
Shit.
The lights went out. The women anxiously watched as the entire hillside leading into West Hollywood fell dark. Attempts at cell reception failed. No signal.
“Amber, where’s your land line?” shouted Suzie.
“Who still has a land line?”
A high-pitched scream from Addie, “Something just ran across my foot!”
“Everyone to my minivan. Now!” Suzie ordered.
“We’re all going to die!!!” cried Amber.
Not all of us, Suzie thought. Some of us, yes, but not all.
“Amber!” Jenn screams.
Suzie slams on the brake. Reverses. She backs the minivan to be parallel with the bruised, blonde-haired mass in the street. The lump moves. Amber’s alive.
Jenn and Suzie exhale, relieved.
“Amber! Get in the car, before it returns,” Suzie yells. A dazed Amber sits up, scared, yet victorious—her Birkin bag back in her clutches.
Jenn reaches out for her, and just as Amber takes her hand, three feral squirrels, their red eyes ablaze, leap onto Amber’s head.
“No!!!” cries Jenn.
Amber falls back onto the street, her outstretched hand helpless against the barrage.
Using the glow from their smart phones, the women slowly made their way towards the front door.
Naturally, Amber had to live in such a big ass house, Suzie thought. One thing was certain: she would never attend another book club. Preschool be damned. Holden would have to learn Mandarin from Chinese take-out menus like everyone else.
From a dark corner of the entrance, a disfigured fur ball possessing the most heinous smell landed on Jenn’s back.
Not waiting to find out what it was, Suzie whipped out her knitting needles and struck. Neck. Eyes. Soft tissue. When it came to gutting animals, she was swift. The creature fell away with a sickening splat.
Suzie then pushed Jenn and the others toward her minivan in the driveway.
“Wait, I’ve got GPS!” countered Brie-Feta. “My Mercedes is just parked on the side!”
“No, we must stick together!” shouted Jenn.
But the cheese one and Addie were already gone.
Amber didn’t noticed—too concerned that Suzie had squeezed out the entire bottle of toilet bowl cleaner behind them. “What the hell are you doing to my floors?”
Suzie ignored her. “Get to the car. NOW.” While Jenn grabbed a protesting Amber and ushered her through the door, Suzie poured out the bleach on top of the toxic toilet cleaner.
The trio exited, coughing and sputtering, before the noxious fumes from the combined chemicals overwhelmed the house. As they ran for the minivan, they heard squealing from the suffocating creatures trapped inside.
The three piled into the vehicle. Suzie started the car. “What about the others?” asked Amber.
“They made their choice,” said Suzie.
They had made their choice. She couldn’t waste time worrying about them. Suzie had to get home.
Jenn and Suzie can’t watch as the vermin feast on Amber’s face.
Seizing their opportunity to escape, Suzie hits the gas. The car stalls.
“Go, go, go, go, go … ” urges Jenn, her eyes never leaving the creatures a few yards from the hole in the ravaged side panel.
Suzie turns the key. The minivan doesn’t start. She turns it again. And again. Another pump of the gas pedal. The engine continues to make an awful choking sound, refusing to turn over. They’re stuck.
“Dammit!” she yells.
Hearing the commotion, the rabid squirrels stop indulging on Amber’s face and turn their attention to the minivan.
Jenn clutches Suzie’s hand as the animals approach.
Even though Suzie continues to turn the key, she closes her eyes, praying for a swift end, but then …
“Look! They’re slowing!” says Jenn.
Suzie sneaks a glance. The beasts take a step and collapse. One spins in circles, the other two sway, sluggish and confused.
Suzie and Jenn exchange baffled looks.
Suzie takes in Amber’s bloody, contorted body splayed in the middle of the street, then notices the remnants of Amber’s prized, wrinkle-free forehead now lodged in the teeth of the woozy critters. Suzie gasps as realization strikes.
No fucking way. It’s the Botox.
As the engine finally turns over, Suzie peels the minivan away from the dying, diseased squirrels. As Suzie and Jenn continue down Laurel Canyon into the Valley, Suzie shakes her head and smiles.
Amber had been right. Botox was a lifesaver after all. And, Suzie, indeed, was thankful.
About The Author
Pang-Ni Landrum, a recovering Big 10 mascot and daughter of an Asian tiger mom and a Southern military c
op dad, has written on both comedy and drama shows including Malcolm in the Middle and JJ Abrams’ Six Degrees. She has sold pilot scripts to Sony, Touchstone Television and E! Aside from developing for television, she co-founded SeaGlass Theatre in Los Angeles, and writes/produces The Aftermooners, a micro web series that exposes what love really looks like after the honeymoon phase.
Follow her on Twitter: @pangni
Check out Pang-Ni's micro web series "The Aftermooners" at www.funnyordie.com/theaftermooners.
“Positive Symptoms”
by Lauren LeFranc
It’s minus fifteen degrees and the wind’s picking up. I shout for Richard, but there’s no answer. He left to collect samples near the crater forty minutes ago. I try him on the radio, but it’s dead. The electronics always go first when a large storm is coming in. I know that I should move, find Richard, and tell him about the woman.
I look down at her. At least a foot of ice encases her body. She must have been frozen here a long time. Her eyes are closed and her skin is almost transparent. She has a peculiar expression on her face. Almost like a smirk. What’s so funny, I wonder.
A man’s voice breaks through on my walkie.
I reach for it, “Richard, can you hear me?”
Static.
I try again, “Richard.”
Nothing. Was he trying to tell me to wait for him? Or find my way back to the research hut? My body tightens. This storm is going to be a bad one. Mount Erebus is beautiful but violent. It already took this woman’s life. I cannot allow it to take mine too.
I wonder if she was at peace when her body expired. Regardless, she was alone. I inch closer to the ice and make her a promise, “I’ll come back. I’ll find you again.”