Insanity

by A. R. Braun

  The girls in the crowd screamed, but stuck to their chairs.

  Dino Man burped into the microphone, and the sound system amplified it so vehemently it vibrated the ground.

  Merlin’s eerie eyes moved sideways toward the deformity. “Say hello to the folks lucky enough not to live next to a disastrous nuclear power plant.”

  “Urgh!” the creature said.

  Jaden sighed, shook his head, and sat up straight. “Lookin’ good, you loser from hell! Wanna date my sooee pig?”

  Richard glanced at his brother. Unlike the stunned audience around him, Jaden laughed his ass off at the idiotic remark he’d just yelled.

  Dino Man cocked his ugly head at Jaden and sneered, flashing cavity-laden teeth. He pointed a finger without flesh, just bone, at him. “Rroo! Rroo!”

  Merlin grinned, then pushed him away. “All right, that’s enough. Go join your friends in the catacombs.”

  Dino Man’s goggle eyes never left Jaden as he made a shuffled exit.

  Merlin furrowed his brow at Richard’s brother. “I guess some people don’t know how lucky they are.”

  “I’ll remember when I get my money’s worth,” Jaden said.

  “That’s enough,” Richard whispered.

  “Ahem.” Merlin peeled his eyes from Jaden. “Next, a demonic human with a real nose for trouble: Boggle Boy!”

  Lumbering onto the stage was a man akin to a character in a nasal spray commercial with a nose for a head.

  “No way,” Richard whispered, rapt with joy.

  A gargantuan lump of gray flesh—as if it had been constructed from clay—flopped around on the neck of an otherwise normal human in a suit. He held the nose that came down to his belly like it would tip him over if he didn’t.

  Were the holes in either side of the huge schnoz ears?

  Jaden cupped his palms over both sides of his mouth as if to be sure the poor guy would hear him. “Hey, ugly, next time we go cow tippin’, we’ll leave one standin’ so you can get laid for once.” He erupted in another fit of laughter.

  Boggle Boy snapped his flopping flesh Jaden’s way. What sounded like a nasal fart exploded from the nostril slits, each the size of a guitar’s fretboard, and a scent similar to dead animals filled the air. Richard gagged, but pinched his nose and stayed put.

  Merlin’s beady eyes pinned Jaden. “Silence, young man, or I’ll let him inhale you!”

  “Fuck you, head freak!” he answered. “You ought to be in the show, wrinkly butt!”

  Richard stifled a laugh with his hand, not wanting to call attention to himself.

  Merlin pushed Boggle Boy toward the back of the stage, then turned and glowered at Jaden. “Perhaps you’ll lay the next one.” He motioned to where Boggle Boy made his exit. “Meet the creepiest hermaphrodite on the planet, Ruth, the Three-Headed Monster!”

  Am I hearing him right? Richard thought he’d faint dead away from the ecstasy of it all.

  However possible it was, the nightmarish woman crept out of the shadows, almost stopping to turn back. With black velvet hugging breasts that made Richard drool, her body was like Venus and her frame every bit as bewitching as any girl in school, but that’s where the fantasy ended. She indeed had three heads, draped with long straw-colored manes that covered her shoulders but not those enticing tits. She ducked away from the stares of the crowd.

  Merlin spoke, breaking through Richard’s visual joy. “I would give names to the two heads on either side of her, but they’re mindless duplicates.”

  Ruth’s triptych of heads appeared sweet-faced until she took the center stage and Richard caught an up-close glimpse. Only her middle head was normal. Each pair of eyes lurked on the outer aspect of the flanking heads with nothing but two vibrating slits for noses. Large, cavernous holes encompassed half of the foreheads showcasing red caves, as if someone had shot them. Richard couldn’t help gawk while straining to see the gray matter of their brains.

  Youthful shrieks rang out.

  She began to lift her skirt, but Merlin’s hand prevented her. “There are children present, Ruthie. Let’s not get showy with your special organs.”

  Jaden whistled, probably trying to be a wise guy.

  Richard’s stomach lurched as Ruth broke off from Merlin. Fixing her eyes on Jaden, she moved closer, even stepping off the stage. She tried to nuzzle him with her middle head.

  Jaden scooted back in a hurry and laughed so hard tears were in his eyes.

  There’s something definitely wrong with my brother.

  Bug-eyed, Ruth moved backward, sitting on the stage. She pushed herself up to a standing position, then pointed him out, looking from Merlin to Jaden and back again. She wept and covered her middle head’s teary eyes with her hands.

  Richard stared. A few families got up to leave.

  Jaden guffawed so hard his chair fell over and spilled Coca-Cola all over the dress shirt of the man behind him.

  “Goddamn punk,” the old-timer cried.

  Richard couldn’t believe Jaden; such a personality wasn’t possible. Why did his brother have to ruin the best show Richard had ever witnessed? Jaden rolled around the floor, laughing so hard the lemon shake-up he’d been sipping came out of his nose, as if he were part of this nightmarish freakfest.

  A sadder spectacle one couldn’t find. Richard left in a fugue, leaving his brother to his next outburst.

  ***

  Since Richard didn’t wait for Jaden to drive him home, the walk through the south side of town grated on his last nerve. Scantily clad women stepped out from street corners, keeping pace with him and asking him, “Datin’ tonight?” When he hesitated, they came up with quips like, “I’ve got nice, big tits” as they shook their breasts with their hands. Scared to death because he was a virgin, he politely declined.

  After turning down the fourth hooker, he rounded a corner, leaving a tall brown tenement house behind him . . . and stopped on a dime. Footfalls had been following him for the last ten paces, a group of them, a mixture of high heels and what sounded like boots. When Richard turned around, he didn’t see a thing under the sodium-arc lights. He shook his head and resumed his gait, but every time he did, the clicking sounds started again, making him stop.

  Unable to take anymore, Richard wheeled on the darkness. “All right, Jaden, you and your friends can stop following me now!”

  But Jaden had driven his car.

  If not his brother, then whom?

  Great, now some real characters from the south side are following me home, just waiting for a chance to slit my throat.

  No, don’t think that way.

  By the time he was a block away from his house, he’d broken into a run. Sure enough, Jaden’s Porsche was in the driveway. Richard unlocked the door with a shaky hand and re-locked it, adding the chain. His headache felt like someone had bored into his head with a drill bit, and his unsettled stomach wouldn’t go away.

  His brother continued his banter after Richard walked into their bedroom and shut the door. “The hilarity almost made that show worth sitting through.”

  Richard glanced out the dark window, the full moon and the prisms of lights of the neighboring houses casting an eerie glow. Why do Mom and Dad have to be on vacation in Aruba?

  “Can . . . ya . . . believe it?” Jaden cried. “That ugly mutant thought I’d hit that!” He continued to laugh like a madman.

  Richard shook his head. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Only a dork would ruin the greatest show in the world. What are you, tweaked?”

  Jaden’s now ugly face—at least to Richard—smirked, spotlighted by the moon bathing him in astral light through the window. “And you’re supposed to be the smart one. I couldn’t stand that fake shit. Besides, you’re the one who made me go.”

  Richard refused to be appeased.

  “Come on,” Jaden added, “quit hatin’. It’s your bad you had to walk home. You shouldn’t have stormed off like that.”

  Richard jumped at what sounded like a bang at the fro
nt door. “What was that?”

  “Take it easy. I’ll check it out.”

  ***

  Jaden came back into the room five minutes later with a soda in his hand. “No one’s out there. You’re paranoid.”

  “You didn’t hear that?” Richard asked.

  Jaden waved him off. “A car backfiring.” He took a few drinks, then another chuckling fit ensued. Richard had never heard somebody carry on as long and as hard as his brother did . . . until the shadows filled the room through the now wide-open bedroom door.

  How did they get through the lock and chain on the entry door?

  Richard’s heart sank. His love for the freak show had departed from him.

  Jaden choked on his laugh as the dark shapes moved across the room, cutting the lunar atmosphere in half like a knife through a jugular.

  “Yessssssss,” Merlin the Annihilator said, closing the door behind him and setting—it couldn’t be—a bolt cutter on the dresser. The bastard had kicked in the front door after cutting the chain! “Let’s see how lucky Mr. Healthy is now.” Laughing, he hit the lights.

  Richard realized three things. The hulking figures of the freak show’s cast of characters lurked in their room, escape wasn’t an option, and hell was a weak cop-out compared to the events about to unfold at the witching hour.

  Boggle Boy stepped forth and yanked Jaden off his bed like so much garbage. He held him around the waist from behind, then—gahhhh!—stuck Jaden’s head up his nose! His petrified whimpering became gurgling, as if his head had been shoved into a toilet.

  Richard’s white knuckles clutched the mattress as he screamed. Pins and needles of pain shot through his hands while Merlin held his index finger to his lips.

  “Shhhhhh.”

  Dino Man came forward and kicked Jaden in the crotch with vehemence; a sickening snap made Richard cringe. Jaden’s butt slammed against the wall, knocking down his Buckeyes poster which stuck to Boggle Boy’s head, a hood enshrouding him.

  “No,” Richard squeaked.

  Merlin’s hand clamped around Richard’s mouth like a vise; the stench of rot was all over that palm. Richard tried to struggle against him, but Merlin jammed a knee into his crotch and a hurled a punch at his stomach before he knew what had hit him, knocking the wind out of him. Merlin released his mouth, and a pair of handcuffs appeared from his pocket. Before he realized what was happening, Richard had been cuffed to the bed’s headboard.

  Ruth slithered out from behind her master. She advanced on Richard’s brother.

  Merlin—whipping a hatchet, a scalpel, and a sewing kit out of the pockets of his trench coat—joined her attack. He said to Jaden, “If you don’t appreciate how lucky you are and you want to rub your rich-boy attitude in our faces, perhaps you should be humbled.” He snickered. “These people aren’t really the survivors of Chernobyl.

  “The freaks, I make them.”

  Anxiety crawled through Richard’s mind like insects.

  Merlin added, “It took the skin of a lot of dead bodies to make Boggle Boy’s nose-head, but was it ever worth it, especially with multiple assholes for nostrils. And Dino Man, that was easy. I gave him elephantiasis by injecting him with parasites after my trip to Africa.”

  Richard’s heart thumped like it would explode in his chest.

  When Boggle Boy pulled his brother’s head from his mutated nostril, Jaden wheezed in what air he could draw through the brown “mucous” that had slimed him.

  Ruth giggled like a psychotic munchkin and reached inside her dress. She undid the now-visible clamps that held the dummy heads, then set them on Jaden’s bed.

  Richard gasped when the freaks opened their mouths, revealing . . . sharp steel teeth, he was sure of it, now that he was up-close.

  A crouch, a jump, and those hellish things were on his brother, chomping skin from Jaden’s face and taking off his nose and ears. Merlin hacked digits from Jaden’s hands and feet, pulled a handheld blowtorch from his trench coat, cauterized the wounds, then sewed toes where his fingers had been and vice versa. Richard gagged. When Merlin finished the deed, Jaden’s body spasmed; his feet slid on the carpet, unable to find purchase.

  Richard passed out as Jaden fell to the floor.

  ***

  Richard heaved a heavy sigh when Merlin stepped onto the stage a few evenings later. Sitting in the back row, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the grotesquerie. As much as he wanted to stay away, it seemed like a sinister spell had made him show, forcing him to see what had become of Jaden. It had been all he could think about for the last few days. I have to know. Richard would’ve called the police the other night, but when he woke, Merlin had left him a note. It said that if he reported the incident, he’d be the next performer in the sideshow. At least he’d unlocked the handcuffs.

  Merlin’s eyes found him as if picking up on his thought processes, then he grinned at the rest of the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you . . . Lizard Man.”

  Richard’s heart crawled into his throat, and he held a hand over his palpitating heart.

  Jaden walked onto the stage. There was no mistaking his haircut and his blue eyes, wide with horror. The missing facial skin, nose, and ears gave him a monstrous visage, and dark lines had been carved into two-inch sections on his skin to imitate scales. When his tongue came out of his mouth, Richard noticed Merlin had sliced it down the middle, bifurcating it. He scanned the crowd as spittle drained from his mouth, now absent lips. He was one of the freaks, no longer able to live in the sane world.

  Jaden tried to form words. “Raaaaaaaaahhhh, raaaaaaaaahhhh,” he wheezed.

  Richard was dazed as the realization dawned on him.

  Merlin severed Jaden’s vocal cords after I passed out, like he did with the others!

  Unable to bear anymore, Richard fled the tent.

  In the days to come, he’d practice explaining his brother’s absence to his parents, once they returned home. He knew one thing, though: he wouldn’t tell the truth. He’d already cleaned the bloodstains from the carpet. What had happened to Jaden was a terrible tragedy, but he’d had it coming, the way he’d treated those poor freaks, ruining the sideshow. Jaden had also attracted all the best girls and gotten breaks in life that Richard could only dream of.

  Perhaps people really did get what they deserved.

  The Social Nutwork

  Friday.

  “What’s on your mind?” the Placebook question demanded.

  How to answer? Jerry Farnsworth, a horror fan known as Dead and Dead, had many things on his mind. Not all of them were good. Five years ago, Jerry’s wife had been killed when he’d been at work. Naturally, he had developed a phobia about home invasion. Some of the horror authors on his friends’ list claimed to be serial killers, and they didn’t exactly help him face his fear.

  In the past, he’d searched every room after eerie sounds of the house settling or squirrels pattering on the roof made him think someone was breaking in, only to come up empty.

  Most of the authors on Placebook didn’t behave, but that didn’t give Jerry the right to act like an idiot, especially since it was probably paranoia. Or was that just good thinking?

  He typed his status.

  “Saw the horror film Eviscerated Guts at the Bijou tonight, and it was unbelievable. They even put Slavery on the soundtrack.”

  The Internet, an easier way to connect with the world than in person, though some would think him an e-pussy; they were idiots—criminals!—everything that was wrong with the world. Too bad many of them were on his friends’ list.

  A reply appeared on the screen. He clicked it.

  Reanimated’s face appeared, one of the authors who claimed to be a serial killer. He’d posted about being grateful for not getting caught for murder, as well as hoping the fans had a heart attack when they read his new short story. Jerry thought it was probably a gimmick. If it wasn’t, Reanimated had to be damned good at covering his tracks, or tremendously lucky.

  Reanimated sa
id: “Great band, D&D. Too bad Slavery can’t put on a decent concert.”

  Jerry sighed.

  What the hell’s wrong with their concerts?

  He had to calm down. His heart beat like a hummingbird’s.

  That’s just his opinion.

  He struggled against acting out, though he was only a fan and had nothing to lose. This author was the one that should’ve been professional, but he’d put down the group Jerry considered the best live band ever. Most people agreed with him on that. He found himself typing a response before he could stop his fingers from working.

  “What’s wrong with their concerts? Are you mental?”

  Jerry studied his remark. I could delete it before he sees it. Though he tried to resist the hatred, Jerry was tired of being told to have a heart attack. Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t bought any of Reanimated’s tales lately.

  With that, he logged off.

  ***

  Saturday.

  Jerry came back to Placebook on Mother’s Day. He’d sent her gift in the mail, the expensive smartphone she’d never been able to afford.

  His post: “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. You’re the best.”

  Once again, someone had replied.

  Mom wouldn’t get back to me that fast. She’s almost computer illiterate.

  He clicked on the reply, and Reanimated had posted again.

  “You wouldn’t know a great concert if it bit you in the ass. Am I mental? Why yes, I am. You’re about to find out how mental.”

  Jerry regretted losing his temper and posted his apology: “Look, friend, I wasn’t trying to start a flame war. I’m sorry I offended you.”

  Three people had replied to his posts. He hoped Reanimated’s fans weren’t striking back, and his mind lurched at the thought.

  He clicked on the “3.” His mother had replied: “Thank you, dear. I got my present and adore it. Love you.”

  His two aunts complimented Jerry on his generosity.

  He answered his mother: “Love you more, Mom.”

  Jerry got another reply.

  That’s Reanimated, flipping his lid.

  He left it off and fixed supper.