Black Friday: An Elders Keep Collection Special Edition

by Jeffery X Martin

"I’m telling you, Brenda, that goddamned hippie dentist fucked up my mouth. I’ll take him for everything he’s got."

  "Whatever, Larry," Brenda said. "You’ll be thanking him like crazy when your mouth heals up. You’ll probably try to sell him a car."

  Larry stopped talking, because she was right. He would try to sell Doctor Mike a car. The worst piece of shit car he could find, one with loose brake lines.

  ***

  "I TOOK SOME of the pets to work today," Doctor Mike said, over his second glass of red wine.

  "You did?" Sarah asked. "How did that go?"

  "Well, I had to separate them."

  "Oh, no. I hate to hear that. What did you do with the babies?"

  "It was hard getting them off the stick, but those things are always tougher than you think. Once I had them out and in the open, I put them somewhere safe."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. A nice warm place."

  With that, Sarah and Doctor Mike began laughing raucously. He slapped the table. She guffawed until she got a side stitch. After a couple minutes, when they had both stopped, Sarah stood up and took off her rubber apron.

  "You know what stories like that do to me," she said.

  "You’re damned right, I do," Doctor Mike said. "Come on. Let’s go show Amber what she’s in for." They chased each other down the hallway into the bedroom and opened the closet door.

  ***

  "MY BANDAGE IS moving," Larry said.

  "Well, quit poking at it," Brenda said.

  "I’m not," Larry said. That was a lie. He was jabbing it with his tongue. It was during one of those jabs Larry realized that Doctor Mike, that liberal bastard, had sewn the gauze to his jaw. That cotton was stuck in there until his mouth healed. He could get sepsis! Gangrene! He checked his arms for streaks, the sure sign of a blood infection. That son of a bitch. He would make that son of a bitch pay dearly for this fuck-up, oh, just you wait and fucking see what he would do that guy in a court of law!

  That didn’t make sense, though. If it was sewn to his jaw, why did the bandage feel all quivery?

  "Look at it," Larry said.

  "Look at what?" asked Brenda.

  "Look at the bandage in my mouth," Larry said.

  "That’s gross."

  "Get a flashlight and do it!" Larry said. "It’s important."

  "Christ, all right! You’re a fucking whiny-ass when you’re in the least little bit of pain. You’d make a lousy woman."

  "You make a lousy woman," Larry sneered.

  Brenda rummaged around the junk drawer in the kitchen until she found a tiny keychain flashlight. She slammed the drawer shut and stomped back into the living room. Huffing and puffing, she knelt in front of Larry. "Open your mouth, whiny-ass," she said.

  Larry lowered his jaw as much as he could, which wasn’t much. Brenda, disgusted with this lack of effort, pulled his lower jaw open with her hand and shone the flashlight inside his mouth.

  The surgery had not been clean, to be sure. The cuts looked jagged and there was more than a little tearing.

  Brenda popped her head up and stared at Larry. "He took out more than one tooth!" she cried. "There’s supposed to be a hole! You’ve got a gap!

  She peered back inside his mouth. She could see where Doctor Mike had sewn the bandage into Larry’s ravaged gum line. There was another problem, though. She moved her face closer to Larry’s mouth. "Larry," Brenda said, "I think it’s moving."

  The thing in Larry’s mouth was pulsing, throbbing, like a tiny lung. Brenda watched in fascination, wondering what kind of newfangled gauze this could be, when the first little black leg poked out of it.

  Brenda gasped.

  "Wha’?" asked Larry.

  Then they were all out, rushing out of the cottony egg sac Doctor Mike had placed there. Hundreds of tiny, hairless funnel web spiders, swarmed into Larry’s mouth, tumbling over each other. Their little black legs tickled the inside of his mouth, like fizzing candy, like nerve damage. The spiders bit everywhere they landed, their little fangs already full of venom, and Larry could feel tiny pinpricks of searing pain in his cheeks and tongue as the poison instantly went to work. He tried to scream, but there were too many of them, blocking off his throat, holding onto his uvula and biting, over and over again. He could feel everything start to swell closed, his tongue growing past its normal size, his airways clogged with inflamed tissue and skittering spiderlings.

  Brenda screamed, slapping wildly at the creatures as they came streaming out of Larry’s open mouth, down onto her fingers and up her arm. They clasped themselves to her fingers like woodpeckers, bite after bite sending more toxins into her bloodstream. Her forearm began to swell like a sausage, her own panicked heart racing, sending the poison throughout her system like transmission fluid. She jumped to her feet and began dancing around the room, stomping and slapping, but the little spiders were fast and before she knew it, they were on her face.

  She could vaguely hear Larry, his breath a high whistle, slowly suffocating on his own saliva and parts of insects. There were spiders on her face now, biting her ears, trying desperately to get to her eyes. The toxins were working quickly, shutting down her nervous system. It felt like her veins were turning to ice. She sank to her knees, unable to keep fighting. The right side of her body was sleeved with the tiny invaders, a living shawl of cascading death. She finally slumped to the floor, spiders all over her arm and her face, crawling in and out of her mouth like a play tunnel.

  Larry’s throat swelled out like a backed-up garden hose, pulsing and contracting as the spiders followed their instincts to bite and march, bite and march. A small rivulet of venom oozed from the side of his mouth.

  The TV played mindlessly, and the surviving spiderlings crawled over Larry and Brenda, exploring the confines of their new home. Some of the babies would eat each other, as Nature decreed. Some would survive, finding the dark corners, molting, growing larger, waiting for new prey.

  ***

  DOCTOR MIKE AND Sarah lay on the floor, sweaty and pleased. Amber was huddled in the corner of her closet, knees to chin, muttering softly wept prayers to an absent god. There were small streaks of blood on her buttocks.

  Sarah snuggled up into Doctor Mike’s armpit and sighed contentedly.

  "It’s been a good day," Sarah purred.

  "I think so," Doctor Mike said. "Quite a good day, indeed."

  Candy

  "WHAT'S NOT TO like about Halloween?" Old Man Harmon asked, and the three other men at the counter of The Meal Worm shuddered and stared into their coffee cups. "It’s the best holiday of the year."

  "Goddamned kids," said Large Richard, as he dumped more hot sauce onto his eggs. "Leaving candy wrappers everywhere and stepping on my mums."

  "It’s fun," Harmon said.

  "It’s a waste of money," said Lucas. "I just look at all that candy and I’ve got to check my blood sugar."

  "The kids love it," Harmon said.

  "Who cares what the kids love?" asked Crandall. "What have the damned kids done for us lately?"

  "You mean, personally, or within a global context?"

  "Get fucked, Harmon," Crandall replied, and the rest of the men chuckled.

  "Well, I like Halloween," Harmon said. "I like seeing the little kids get all dressed up in costumes and run around. I like hearing the leaves crunch under their feet. I like hearing them laugh and yell, ‘trick or treat.’ Hell, some people even dress their dogs up and give them pumpkin-flavored dog biscuits."

  "That’s ridiculous," said Large Richard.

  "You don’t have to be human to be a kid," Harmon said.

  "Sounds like you love the kids a little too much," Lucas said.

  "You’re all a bunch of cynical, dirty old men," Harmon snorted.

  "Goddamned right about that," Crandall said.

  Delores, the server, came around and began silently refilling everyone’s coffee cups. Harmon put his hand over his own. "I’m gonna head out, y’all," he said, fidgeting around in hi
s back pocket to fish out his wallet.

  "Have fun with the kiddies tonight, Harmon," Large Richard said.

  "What are you going to do when they come around to your house, Large Richard?" Harmon asked.

  Large Richard grinned. "I’m going to turn off all the lights, drink whiskey from the bottle and watch the weather until I fall asleep."

  Harmon shook his head. "Living the dream, my friend."

  Large Richard raised his coffee cup in salute. "You know it, brother."

  Harmon tossed a couple of singles down on the counter for Delores and went on his way.

  ***

  THE LEAVES WERE past their color prime and it was seventy-three degrees in the late afternoon. Outside The Store, an inflatable Santa Claus smiled and waved at the customers as they entered. Christmas decorations were already being displayed and sold. It was enough to make Harmon snarl. Halloween wasn’t even over and already the place was overrun with reindeer and fruitcake. Harmon shuffled up and down the aisles, one hand on the small of his back, searching for bags of trick-or-treat candy. Chocolate elves, spearmint leaves, pine-scented air freshener; nothing you could put in a costumed kid’s plastic pumpkin or recycled grocery bag.

  "What’s all this Christmas shit?" Harmon said, loud enough for others to hear. "Just want to buy some Halloween candy. Because today is Halloween, not Christmas."

  He felt a tug on his shirt. He looked down. A little girl, black-haired and no more than six, was staring at him. Her nose was running, and she snorted a teardrop shaped hunk of mucous back up into her nasal cavity.

  "Can I help you?" Harmon asked.

  The little girl pointed down the aisle. "Candy’s down that way, Mister," she said. "Haddoween candy."

  Harmon was put off by the girl’s fluid level, but managed a weak smile. "Thank you, sweetie," he said. "You sick? Got a cold?"

  The little girl nodded. "Mama won’t let me go out for Haddoween dis year. She says I’m deddikit."

  "Delicate, huh? Well, tell her you need a tissue."

  The girl wiped her nose on her sleeve. Harmon rolled his eyes and walked down the aisle in the direction the little girl had pointed.

  After a short stroll past the singing polar bears and cans of fake snow, Harmon found the Halloween section. It had already been picked over. Most of the good candy was gone and only a couple rubber masks remained, strewn carelessly on the metal shelves. The candy was an extra expense, which put a slight crimp in Harmon’s fixed income. He often thought he would have enjoyed trick or treat more if it took place the day after Halloween, when all the goodies went on sale. Still, he couldn’t disappoint the kids, even if he did happily eat the candy that did not get handed out.

  "Ten dollars for a bag of candy bars?" Harmon complained to the cashier. "They’re not even big candy bars. They cut ‘em in quarters and charge out the ass for ‘em. I could wrap the damned things myself."

  The cashier, a vacant-eyed girl named Sarah, said, "It’s actually ten dollars and eighty-one cents with tax."

  Harmon shook his head and began digging through his pockets for change.

  "You know," Sarah said, "everybody says the Druids slaughtered children on Samhain but there’s nothing in the archeological record to back that up."

  "Is that so?" Harmon asked, not looking up.

  "Yeah, it’s so," Sarah said. "If anything the children should have killed the adults for being such assholes. Rules and regulations, general asshole behavior. That should be how trick or treat goes. Kids get to kill their asshole overlords."

  "Well, what did the Druids say about candy?" Harmon asked. "If all the adults are going to be murdered, why should they buy candy for their killers?"

  Sarah shrugged. "The Druids explained that. They explained everything. But it’s in a language only trees can read."

  Harmon handed her the money and took the candy off the conveyor belt. Sarah snatched it from his hands and put the candy in a bag. Harmon huffed and grabbed the candy away from the overzealous cashier. "There’s no reason to put a bag in another bag," Harmon said. "You’re just wasting bags."

  "I’m just doing my job, weirdo," Sarah said with a smile. "Have a nice day thank you for choosing The Store come again consumer."

  Making his way back to the car, Harmon realized he didn’t get his senior citizens’ discount. It wasn’t worth it though, not to deal with that woman again, and besides, he had to get ready. A little decorating, some spooky music, and then he would just wait for the little monsters to show up.

  ***

  HARMON BURNED HIS thumb twice trying to set the candle inside the jack-o’-lantern. The bag of candy tore right down the seam while he was opening it, sending little pieces tumbling across the kitchen table. The stepladder shifted while he was placing an orange-colored light bulb into his porch light fixture. There was much grumbling and cursing, but by the time he was finished, Harmon’s tiny house at the edge of town looked like a friendly witch lived there. Chuckling softly, Harmon watched the sun go down over the hills and waited for the children to arrive.

  ***

  "AND WHO ARE you supposed to be?" Harmon said to the group of small children on his porch.

  "A princess," said one.

  "A football player," said another.

  "A lawyer," said the last one, a girl wearing a suit and tie.

  Harmon raised an eyebrow. "A lawyer?"

  The girl nodded. "That way, if I choke on the candy when I eat it, I can sue you."

  Harmon backed up a half step. "Maybe I should recues myself from your trick or treat bag," he said.

  "As long as it isn’t those nasty candies in the orange and brown wax paper wrappers, I think we’ll be fine," the councilor said.

  "If it pleases the court," Harmon smiled, and dropped some candy encased in shiny foil into her bag.

  "Thank you," the children chorused, and they left Harmon’s small porch one by one.

  He could see the next group of children, already coming up his front walk. A devil, another princess, some kind of monster with a mask too big for his or her head and someone just wearing a sheet. Harmon readied himself, with candy in hand.

  "Trick or treat!" the children yelled, not even waiting until they were on Harmon’s porch. The old man grinned and remembered what it was like to be that age, to be a kid, with everything wide open before him and you could be literally anything you imagined. That’s what the guys at The Meal Worm were missing. They had forgotten how to play. Then they were all on his porch, treat bags open.

  "I see a lot of princesses this year," he said. "Which princess are you?"

  The little girl blushed and said, "Princess Saffron. She has a tower and a sword and she has a boyfriend who is a prince and his name is Talon."

  "I’m the devil!" yelled the little boy who was dressed like the devil.

  "I can tell!" Harmon said.

  Princess Saffron was still yammering. "Her sword has a name too, and it’s called Fayleen Ultra, and it can cut through everything and it shoots laser beams at the bad guys and…"

  "…I’m the devil! Yaaaar!"

  The kid wearing the monster mask stood on the edge of the crowd with his hands up in the air, curled like claws, in a failed attempt at menacing. He uttered a few half-hearted growls, but was drowned out by Princess Saffron. Harmon felt badly for him, and slipped an extra piece of candy into his bag.

  "…Princess Saffron has a horse and her name is Tamarind Lady and she’s a princess, too, so she’s a horse-cess…"

  Harmon bent down, even though it made his back twinge, in front of the child dressed only in a sheet. It looked like someone had drawn a face on the sheet instead of cutting out holes for eyes. Strangely shaped eyes, a crooked pink mouth, like something a toddler might draw.

  "Don’t you have a bag, kid?"

  The youngster cocked his head to the left slightly, and stared at Harmon. His pink mouth seemed to open and close, as if the child were making chewing movements under the sheet.

  "Do you
want some candy?" Harmon asked, but the Sheet Kid did not answer.

  Harmon stood and pointed at the child. "Is this one with you guys? Do you know him?"

  The other kids shrugged their shoulders. "He’s not one of us," said the boy in the monster mask.

  Harmon held a couple of pieces of candy out towards the mysterious child. "Do you want this?" he asked. "You can have it."

  The trick or treater made no moves towards the candy, only moved his mouth up and down, like a baby bird.

  "All right, fine," Harmon said. "You don’t want the candy, that’s fine."

  The kids began filing off his porch, the little girl still talking about all the things Princess Saffron did and had. The little one in the sheet was the last one to leave, following the bigger kids at a distance.

  Sunset burned red, and the streetlights flickered on. Harmon went back inside the house, taking the bowl of candy with him. He needed to take a leak. He wondered who that little kid was, the one in the sheet. An orphan, maybe. Some kind of special needs kid. It was hard to tell. The way he moved his mouth… he. Hell, it could be a girl, for all Harmon knew.

  The doorbell rang. Trick or treaters do not take bathroom breaks, Harmon thought. They also don’t have prostate glands the size of bedknobs.

  "Trick or treat! Trick or treat!" he could hear them yelling through the front door. Harmon hurriedly zipped his pants, hoping he didn’t leave a wet spot on the front of his pants.

  "I’m coming, I’m coming," Harmon yelled. He picked up the candy bowl and opened the door to be confronted by two samurai. They wear wearing their mother’s kimonos and had their long hair yanked up into a top knot.

  "Trick or treat!" they yelled. Harmon bowed deeply as a sign of respect and offered the bowl with outstretched hands. Both of the samurai laughed and took some candy from the bowl.

  "Thank you," they said. They left the porch, one after the other, and as the final one left, Harmon gasped. The Sheet Kid had been hiding behind one the warriors and stood there on Harmon’s porch, it’s pink mouth gnawing up and down.