by Sam Shelstad
7
The next morning, I woke up early and pulled out the crafting pail. For the UFO mobile, I decided to make one big spaceship that would deploy three smaller ships from its base when a switch was pressed. These three ships would each deploy three even smaller ships which would then drop little Plasticine aliens with parachutes. I’d press the switch during judging and illuminate the whole scene with a green spotlight. And a tape would be playing—some kind of eerie hum. Yes.
I was running out of supplies so I bussed it down to the dollar store. I bought yarn, twine, elastics, paper clips, construction paper, transparent paper, toilet paper, markers, watercolour paints, Plasticine, glue sticks, scotch tape, duct tape, cotton balls, pie plates, plant pots, Tupperware containers, plastic cups, felt and two Oh Henrys. I steered clear of the Halloween section—that’s cheating—and dragged my bulging plastic bags to the second-hand store where I bought three flashlights, a cape and a real farmer’s pitchfork. I had to call a cab to take everything home and there was an embarrassing moment when I called the driver “Mom” but thankfully she just laughed.
As I was bringing the supplies to the porch Amanda P gave me a whistle. I put everything down and went across the street. She was digging a pit.
“Hi Amanda,” I said. “What are you digging there? A pit?”
“What kind of stupid question is that?”
“No, I mean is it for the contest?”
“I’m digging my way to fucking China,” she said. She was in a mood, which was fine. She had a green bruise that looked like a slug crawling under her left eye. “Why don’t you take the shovel for a while? I’m swamped and I know you’ve got the day off. My back feels like shit.”
“But Amanda? I kind of have a lot to do myself. With the contest.”
“Oh really? You’ve got a lot to do? For Christ’s sake just help me out and be a good neighbour for once. My back, Ruth.”
Before I could respond, Amanda’s front door swung open and her husband came out. He glared at me.
“The damn remote control,” he growled.
“I’ll be right in, dear,” Amanda said. “Ruth?”
“Sure, I’ll take over for a little while,” I said. “Go rest your back.”
I helped dig for two hours and then snuck off to work on my mobile. I was sweaty and craved a nap but I kept at it. I made these amazing spaceships out of the construction paper and Tupperware containers—especially the mother ship, which had portholes with little googly eyes looking out of them—but couldn’t figure out how to make them pop out of each other via a switch. I just left it all hanging out like a jellyfish and it looked beautiful. I was proud of myself. So maybe I didn’t need these gimmicks; the elegance of the finished mobile transcended the elaborate presentation I originally had in mind. It was all it needed to be. I hung it on the porch.
Later I saw Amanda P filling her pit with naked baby dolls, which was maybe going too far. But then again, she’s the seasoned pro. Perhaps the judges appreciate her willingness to take risks which is pretty inspiring but it was getting late and I was tired from all the shopping and crafting and pit digging. I looked at my mobile once more and went to bed.
8
My phone rang at two-thirty in the morning. I knew it was probably John Seabreeze but it might have been an emergency so I picked up. It was John Seabreeze.
“Alright, Ruth,” he said. “You can come on over.”
“It’s two-thirty in the morning. I’m not playing body games with you in the middle of the night. You have to quit…”
“No it’s not body games. Some kids came by your house a few minutes ago.”
“What?”
“They were going for that thing hanging on your porch. I stopped them.”
“They were? You did?”
“And two of them got away. One of them didn’t.”
“What happened to the kid that didn’t get away?”
“Come on over, Ruthie.”
I went over. I knocked on the front door but John came around the side of his house and led me into the back. There was a light on in his tool shed.
“Is that…”
“He’s in there alright. Little shit. Come look.”
“I can’t believe it,” I said. It felt like a dream. It wasn’t a nightmare really but it also wasn’t one of those really good dreams where it’s your birthday and the presents keep coming.
“Don’t be shy. He’s not going anywhere,” John said.
I peered into the little window and saw the kid who had biked by the drugstore the other day. The one who wore my conductor’s hat. He was sitting on the floor and crying. John banged on the side of the shed and the kid started crying even louder.
“You kidnapped him,” I said. My mouth was dry and I felt heavy like I would sink into the grass. “You have to let him go.”
“You said to catch him,” John said. “I caught him. And besides, I gave him a choice. Told him he could sit in there until I felt he was ready to come out or I could call his parents. He made his decision. Here, try banging on the wall. He goes nuts.”
“You have to let him go.”
“I will, I will. But give the wall a little bang with your fist. Give it a try first.”
“Let him go now, John.”
“Fine. But I’m telling you…” John went to unlock the door but I stopped him.
“Wait,” I said. “Wait until I’m home first.”
As I was walking back to my house I heard a loud bang followed by a kind of moaning. It might have been the kid crying but it might have been my stomach too. All I had to eat that day was two Oh Henrys. I was hungry and tired and had work in the morning so I went back to bed. The kid would be fine; John would let him go. Everything would be fine. John was actually pretty good at catching vandals when motivated. My mobile was hanging on the porch—not a scratch on it.
9
The next evening Jan didn’t show up for her shift and I stayed until close. Mr. Greismeyer was parked out front when I left. He called me over.
“Ruthie, come have a drink. I’ve got a new track to show you. And I brought you a cup from home this time.”
“I can’t,” I said. “Sorry sir. Another long day. It’s late and I have the contest to work on.” I hated to disappoint him and it was nice of him to invite me into his car again but there was so much to do. I couldn’t afford to lose focus.
“Goddamnit, get in here.”
“I’m sorry sir.”
“Goddamnit, I brought you a cup.”
I left. I caught the last bus and on the way home from my stop I was startled by a noise coming from Amanda P’s yard. A raccoon was rummaging around in the baby pit. I watched it for a minute and then noticed a man hanging from the tree in her yard. There was a rope around his neck and his entrails were pouring out from his stomach. It was, of course, a dummy—the entrails were coloured socks. A strange new direction for Amanda P but it definitely showed creativity. There was a sign stuck to the dummy’s chest too. I came closer, scaring off the raccoon, so I could read it. The sign said, Child molester.
My own decorations, for a change, had been left alone. The mobile was hanging unscathed on my porch as was the Beware of ghost banner I had stuck to the garage door to cover the graffiti. No rocks, no notes, no nothing.
I went inside and the phone was ringing.
“So,” John Seabreeze said. “I think it’s time for some games.”
I hung up and went over. What could I do? I owed him.
He didn’t look at me when he answered the door and he kept rubbing the back of his head. He was wearing a grey sweatsuit with the shirt tucked into the pants and the pants tucked into the socks.
“Take off your coat and your shoes,” he said. “You can leave the rest on.”
I took off my coat and shoes and he led me into the basement. There were candles lit all around the room. Blue gym mats lay across the floor.
“So how do we do this exactly?”
�
��I’ll get us going,” he said. “Lie down on your back.”
I got on my back and John started dragging me around the mats by my feet. It was kind of fun actually. Then he got down on his knees and started hugging my legs. He was squeezing them pretty hard but it didn’t hurt. It wasn’t so bad.
He hugged my legs for a bit then asked if there was anything I’d like to try. I said I couldn’t think of anything but he kept on pressing so I said that maybe we could try kissing. I mean John looked pretty good in his sweatsuit and he was a talented security guard and I hadn’t kissed anyone for a long time but he said I was missing the point. Then he turned me over on to my stomach and grabbed me around the waist. He began walking around on his knees so that my chest and face slid across the mats in front of him. Like he was cleaning the mats and I was his rag. The mats smelled like Windex.
Things went on like this for almost an hour and then I excused myself. I was so tired and I hadn’t eaten all day. I thanked him for helping me out with the teenagers and he thanked me for the body games. He said I was great. I tried to kiss him good night but he closed the door and I went home.
10
That night I dreamt about the cop house except it wasn’t a nice dream. I’d say it was almost a nightmare. In the dream all these policemen were dragging me around their house by my feet. They were taking turns and sometimes they would bang me into a wall. Then one of them let me fall down the stairs into the basement and they closed the door on me. It was so dark. I woke up all sweaty and it was dark in my house too.
The next morning I called in sick to work which was only a half-lie. I was just tired. I slept in and spent the day working on the contest. I felt guilty because I was supposed to be at the store but it was worth the guilt because I got so much done. I used a bicycle pump, a funnel and a piece of window screen to finish off the spider cannon which worked perfectly. I made so many cotton cobwebs and put them everywhere. More banners, more orange ribbons. A new conductor’s hat for the mummy. I painted a black cat on the lower sash of my front window and two red circles on the upper sash so that when you opened the window the lower sash aligned with the upper sash and the cat suddenly had scary red eyes. I worked all day and when I went to bed my decorations were still standing. The vandals had backed off. I was safe.
Then John Seabreeze called me up in the middle of the night.
“I caught another one Ruthie.”
I went over. I met him in the backyard. The light was on in his tool shed again.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, “but this one’s a little older.”
“How much older?”
I peered through the little window. It was Mr. Greismeyer. He had a scarf wrapped around his mouth and he was lying on the floor. He was tied to a chair, which had tipped over.
“What the hell? What…”
“He was sneaking around your house. Do you know this man?”
“That’s my boss, Mr. Greismeyer.”
“Shit.”
We went inside and I untied the scarf.
“Goddamnit Ruth,” Mr. Greismeyer said. “Is this psychopath your friend or something? Go call the police.”
John Seabreeze helped him up and untied him. Mr. Greismeyer was frantic. He yelled at John and shoved him into the grass. He yelled at his lawyer who wasn’t there. Then he yelled at me. I went home and called the police. I was crying on the phone but the man I spoke to was nice and two officers eventually came. They asked John all kinds of questions and made Mr. Greismeyer sit in his car until they finished because he kept interrupting. I had to answer a lot of questions too but I wasn’t in any trouble. I made the officers coffee and egg bagels. I also made Mr. Greismeyer an egg bagel but he threw it on the ground.
“You know, I was coming to check on you,” he said. “I knew you weren’t sick, you stupid liar.”
“I’m sorry sir,” I said.
“Yeah well you can put that on your goddamn resume because you’re sure as hell fired.”
John went back inside. There was nothing the police could do since he was just trying to protect his neighbour. Mr. Greismeyer was furious. As everyone drove away I saw Amanda P looking out her window at me. I waved and she ducked out of view. The light in her window went off and I stood on my porch waiting to see if she’d come back but she didn’t. I could hear the raccoon digging around in her pit.
11
While I wasn’t exactly thrilled I had lost my job it couldn’t have been better timing. I now had a week of distraction-free contest prep time and I took full advantage of the opportunity. When life gives you lemons, make a lemonade stand with little scarecrow children proprietors attached by string to the lemonade jug so that when someone pours a glass of lemonade the children stand up to collect payment.
I crafted like hell the whole week. I woke up early, stayed up late, and my fingers turned black from glue bits and markers. I hung white towels from the tree and attached little paper hats and glasses to them so they looked like gentleman ghosts. I found a floodlight in the basement which I used to illuminate the UFO mobile—it looked perfect. I carved pumpkins, made mini-tombstones for the garden, hung ribbons pretty much everywhere and cut skeleton silhouettes out of cardboard and painted fun glow-in-the-dark faces on them. The Coffin Express was new and improved and the lemonade stand was a perfect introductory piece at the end of the driveway. I didn’t have a distinct theme like Amanda P did—her grotesque, envelope-pushing, gore décor now included heads on pikes and a lifelike lawnmower accident scene—but everything in my yard looked nice in a classic Halloween sense. I worked hard and I was proud.
The kids left me alone too. I was worried they’d come back and inflict even worse damage on my decorations now that I was ignoring John (since the incident with my boss I decided it would be best to avoid any further distractions) but the neighbourhood was quiet. In fact, when I passed teens on my way to the store they’d cross to the other side of the street. There must have been rumours going around.
Mr. Greismeyer made a few appearances. He’d park on my street at night and drink in his car. I think he wanted me to come out and sit with him but I stayed inside. I didn’t want to encourage him. I had work to do.
I kept my focus on the contest but it didn’t really matter in the end. When Devil’s Night came, Amanda P won the bucket. She deserved it, really. She took such a huge risk with her theme. I thought the judges, who were mostly old women, would find her display too disturbing. Even I was creeped out and couldn’t look at her lawn without clenching my teeth a little but it shows you how the judges based their decisions on artistic merit. Amanda was a true artist. There was so much I could learn from her. When they said her name, everyone clapped for a full minute. I joined in of course. I think I clapped the loudest. I waited in line to shake Amanda’s hand and congratulate her on the big win, then went home. I was exhausted. I sat on my couch thinking I’d just rest for a minute and reflect on the day but I tipped over and fell asleep.
It was dark outside when I woke up and my stomach made noises. I went to make an egg bagel but my hands were trembling and I dropped all the eggs. The whole carton hit the kitchen floor and all the eggs broke. I grabbed a cloth and started wiping up the mess but I guess I was crying because I couldn’t see too well and my hands were still trembling. I just kind of spread the eggs around and then I started yelling. I’m not sure what I was yelling exactly but it was probably something to do with Amanda P because that’s who I was thinking about. It was all a blur.
Basically, I was thinking about how she had won the contest but that it wasn’t fair because her display was gross while mine was family-friendly. How Amanda’s yard was frightening the neighbourhood kids and my yard was only spooky in a fun way and it wasn’t fair. How nothing is ever goddamn fair and people like Amanda waltzed around receiving candy for psychologically damaging little children. I kept yelling until my throat stung. My hands were covered in eggshells. It felt like I wasn’t in control of my body, that it was just doin
g things on its own. I went into the craft cupboard and gathered up all my paint tubes and put them in a shopping bag. I checked the label of Lake Placid Blue to make sure that the brand was flammable and then I went into the kitchen and grabbed the barbeque lighter. I put on my boots and went outside.
The contest festivities were over and the street was empty. I was in a state or possibly a trance. I walked over to Amanda P’s yard and squirted paint into her baby pit. I squirted and squirted and threw the empty tubes into the pit as well. The baby dolls were covered in a rainbow topping of paint squirts. I pulled out the barbeque lighter and was about to ignite everything when I heard shouting from inside Amanda P’s house. I ran home and locked the door.
The shouting had jolted me out of the trance. In my house I felt like myself again, like I was in control, which meant I also felt shame. Why would I ruin Amanda P’s baby pit? She had won fair and square. Good thing I was stopped before I lit the pit up. And the most shameful thing of all was that I also felt good—like I noticed this warm feeling deep inside me over what I’d done and what I’d planned on doing. Like a part of me was proud of the paint squirts. This made me feel even more ashamed. I paced around the house, focusing on my shame and ignoring my secret pride until I tired myself out and lay down on the couch again. I fell asleep with my boots on.
12
I woke up to the sound of a man shouting in the street. I looked out the front window. It was Amanda P’s husband.
“Yeah run away, you ungrateful bitch!”
He stood on their front porch with a bottle in his hand. Amanda P was running across the street to my house. When I went to unlock the front door she was already pounding on it.
I let her in and made tea for us. We sat on stools in the kitchen. She was shaking and had a fat lip.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “What happened?”
She didn’t respond.
We sipped our tea and listened to the clock tick until Amanda P said she was hungry. I got the Halloween candy bowl down from the mantle and she ate a snack-sized Oh Henry.