The World's Last Breaths: Final Winter, Animal Kingdom, and The Peeling

by Iain Rob Wright

  “Iain?”

  Iain shook his head and snapped out of his daze. “Sorry, what?”

  Sally shot him a scornful glance. “Were you even listening to me? I said that I’m leaving with Jack now, but you need to call the police if that crazy man comes back. I don’t want to come home and find you tied to a chair.”

  Iain frowned. “Did you see the guy? I could take him easily if I have to.”

  Sally groaned. “You’re not on a council estate anymore, darling. My husband is a man who watches cartoons with his son; whose favourite show is Nashville; and who cried when Buffy’s mum died. So no more talk about fighting crazy men in our garden, okay?”

  Iain nodded and watched his wife and son go out the front door. He sat down at the kitchen table and ate his toast in silence. He had work to do today, but was completely unmotivated. The man in the garden had distracted his thoughts for the day, which meant he probably wouldn’t get into a good flow until Noon.

  Maybe he would take a bath to snap out of his fugue. Do a bit of reading and get his head in the game? Yeah, that was what he would do. He’d soon forget about that crazy man who had invaded his privacy.

  Unless he came back.

  -3-

  In a funny mood, Iain had spent the last thirty minutes taking bathtub selfies of his scrunched up face and chin, then uploading them to Facebook. His fans were horrified, but also amused, so it had been worth it.

  He turned the tap on with his foot and shuddered as the hot water brought the temperature up.

  His phone pinged for an email.

  It was from Matty-Bob.

  So grate to meet you earlier, Ian. I felt we really connect and I’m just sorry you aske me to leave. I understand what I did wrong, thou, and I am on my way to correct its.

  Iain sat up in the bath, alert. Was that psychopath coming back to the house?

  “I brought pizza!”

  Iain leapt up out of the bath so quickly that he slipped over the side and fell to the ground headfirst; his naked arse left pointing in the air. The pain didn’t register as much as the panic, though, so he was up on his feet quickly.

  Matty-Bob stood in the doorway to the bathroom, this time wearing a scruffy brown tuxedo that looked like it had been dragged out of an antique chest.

  “Wow, fella!” Matty-Bob pointed to Iain’s uncovered genitals. “Did you get that thing from an elephant? Your wife is a lucky girl.”

  “I… I am blessed.”

  “Hey, Iain?”

  Iain shook his head and snapped out of the daze caused by the blow to his head.

  “You okay there?” Matty-Bob asked. “That was quite the fall you took and you went a bit fuzzy on me there for a moment.”

  Iain looked at the lunatic holding a pizza and was utterly shocked, and very very angry. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

  “I brought pizza!”

  “Fuck your pizza.”

  Matty-Bob looked confused, but then he shrugged. “Okay.” He proceeded to pull his penis out of his pants and shoved it into the cheesy pizza.

  “Jesus Christ!” Iain shouted. “I didn’t mean literally. Get the hell out of my house. I’m going to have you arrested, you maniac.”

  Matty-Bob looked confused. “But you love your fans. You say so all the time. That’s why I’m here, to be with you.”

  “To be with me?”

  “Yes. You say you love your fans, well here I am – your very biggest. Or is that all bullshit? Do you just pretend to be a nice guy? Is it lies? Please don’t tell me it’s lies.”

  Iain realised he was debating this man while standing completely in the nude. He grabbed a towel off the rail and wrapped it around himself. “Of course I don’t pretend, but that doesn’t mean you can just break into my home. If you wanted to meet me, you should email me like any normal person.”

  “You don’t meet fans, though.”

  “I do sometimes.”

  “Not really.”

  “I have a ten month old son. Meeting people is not something I have a lot of time for. That doesn’t mean I don’t care, though.”

  “I know,” said Matty-Bob. “That’s why I came to you. Come here, big fella.”

  The man went to hug Iain, but Iain shot out a leg and kept him at bay. “What? No, not ‘come here, big guy’. More like, ‘get out of my house, you goddamn freak’.”

  Matty-Bob froze on the spot, his embracing arms stuck open like pincers. “It’s all lies, isn’t it? You don’t love your fans.”

  “I do,” Iain growled. “Just not the ones who stick their dicks in pizzas.”

  Iain turned around to look for his phone, but was dismayed when he saw it at the bottom of the bath beneath the water. “I’m calling the police,” he said, “So you’d better-”

  Something struck him in the back of the head, sending him sprawling back into the bathtub. He thrashed in the water and turned himself around to face his attacker.

  “Eat it!” Matty-Bob screamed, shoving a slice of pizza into Iain’s mouth. “Eat my cock pizza, you liar.”

  Iain managed to right himself in the bath and kick out with his legs. Matty-Bob went flying backwards into the wall, giving Iain the chance to leap up out of the bathtub and make a break for it.

  Matty-Bob grabbed out at Iain’s shoulder as he passed, long dirty nails digging a furrow in his flesh.

  “Ow!” Iain yelled. “That really hurt.”

  Matty-Bob snarled. “Not as much as it’s going to.”

  Iain had lost his towel and was naked again, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He ran down the stairs, testicles slapping against his leg while Matty-Bob was right behind him, screeching and hollering like the madman that he was.

  “I just want to be friends,” he kept shouting. “You always say how you consider your fans to be your friends, your family. Liar!”

  Iain crossed the middle-floor landing and wheeled towards the next set of steps. With no regard for his own safety, Matty-Bob threw himself down the stairs and collided with Iain’s back. The two of them went tumbling down the stairs, hitting the cat litter tray at the bottom.

  Matty reached out and grabbed a pile of cat shit that had fallen out and immediately started thrusting it at Iain’s face. “Eat it, you lying son-of-a-bitch. You lying ol’ dirty bird!”

  Iain threw a punch and caught Matty-Bob under the chin just as the cat shit was about to meet his lips. Matty-Bob fell sideways to the floor, while Iain clambered back to his feet and ran into the hallway.

  Matty-Bob was right behind him again, continuing the chase. “I just wanna hang out,” he shouted. “NO BIG DEAL!”

  Iain reached the front door and grabbed the handle, ecstatic that Sally hadn’t locked it on her way out. But before he could pull open the door, Matty-Bob flew into the back of him and started licking his ear.

  “Get off me, you freak.”

  Matty-Bob smacked his lips. “Taste like chicken.”

  “I just had a bath.”

  Matty-Bob leapt forwards and this time bit Iain in the shoulder, clamping down hard like a zombie from one of his books. Iain managed to shove the maniac away from him before any blood was shed.

  “You’re insane.”

  “Remember when Shawcross died at the end of Ravage? This is just like that, don’t you think?”

  Iain shook his head. “Shawcross was the bad guy. Bad guys lose.” He wound up a punch and let it fly, but Matty-Bob ducked and punched him in the gut.

  Iain dropped to his knees, wheezing.

  “Just calm down, Iain. Put the kettle on. We can talk about what book you’re going to write next. Maybe you can put me in it. You do that sometimes for your fans, right? Like you named the boat in Sea Sick after some woman. Well, I can promise you that whoever that woman was she doesn’t love you as much as I do. Write a book about me. Make me a dashing hero. I love you, did I tell you that?”

  Iain tried to catch his breath. “If you love me… then leave me… alone.”

&nbs
p; Matty-Bob pulled a knife from his tuxedo pocket and held it up in front of him. “Not until I have something to remember you by.”

  Iain groaned. “Won’t a simple autograph do?”

  “Anybody can get your autograph. I want something nobody else has.”

  Iain yelled in terror as Matty-Bob lunged at him with the knife. His eyes closed instinctively, but no pain arrived – just a tugging at his hair.

  Iain opened his eyes again to see that Matty-Bob had cut a lock of his hair off and was smelling it. “Some of your fans think you’re going bald, but I think it gives you an air of distinction. What does Sally think? I can’t wait to meet her. Is she really as sweet as she seems? Do you think she would let me be Jack’s Godfather?”

  The thought of having his family subjected to this maniac’s fantasies brought Iain’s mind back into focus. He climbed to his feet, leaning against the wall for support.

  “Matty-Bob?” he asked, once his balance had returned.

  “Yes?”

  “You know I grew up on a council estate, right?”

  “Yes, you grew up poor and managed to make something of yourself. It’s such a wonderful story.”

  Iain nodded. “Then allow me to give you something from my past.”

  Matty-Bob grinned, but the smile was soon wiped off his face when Iain booted him between the legs like Pele kicking a football. He fell over backwards like an ironing board, groaning all the way.

  Iain was straight out the front door and yelling for help.

  Three kids playing cards at the side of the road screamed when they saw him running towards them naked.

  One little girl pointed a finger at him and shouted. “You won’t fiddle me, you pervert.”

  Then the three of them took off, screaming for their parents.

  Iain looked around, seeing no adults to help him and wondering what the hell people would think of him standing there in the buff. His penis had shrunk to a raisin and his fat belly was heaving in and out. If this ended up on Facebook, he was ruined.

  Matt-Bob came staggering out the door behind him. “Why won’t you just love me,” he pleaded. “All I’ve done is support you. I have all of your books. Even that shitty one, Thrillobytes, that you took off sale. When I heard Amazon banned D is for Degenerate, I sent them my own shit in the post. Everything I do, I do for you, Iain.”

  Iain backed off, gravel biting his heels and making him wince. “Just… just wait until the next time I do a convention. We can hang out all day then. You have my hair, what more do you want?”

  “I want you in me?”

  Iain pulled a face. “I don’t even know what that means, but it doesn’t sound like something I would agree to.”

  “You’re so wonderful, Iain. So much better than that talentless hack, Matt Shaw. You and me should take a trip together. I know it’s hard work being a father, so let’s go to Vegas!”

  Iain kept on backing away. In the distance he noticed the children were returning with their furious looking parents. They were looking to beat up a pedophile, but it was not what it seemed. Iain was the one who needed help.

  “You know,” Iain said, trying to stall. “Disney is really more my thing.”

  Matty-Bob gritted his teeth and started beating his own head with his fists, over and over again. “Damn it! I knew that, I knew that. So dumb, so dumb!”

  Iain put a hand out. “It’s fine, Matty. Just calm down.”

  Matty pulled his fists away from his head and glared at Iain. A line of blood formed from his hairline down to his nose. “My name… is… Matty-Bob!”

  Matty-Bob rushed towards Iain, the knife held out in front of him once again. But this time it didn’t look like he was coming for hair.

  Iain turned and ran, arms flailing in the air. “Jesus, God, oh bloody ‘ell. Help me, somebody. Oh bloody ‘ell.”

  Matty-Bob yelled strange obscenities. “You mother-humping ass-butt!”

  Iain looked at the children and their arriving parents, cried out to them for help, but he only made them confused.

  They would never make it over to him in time.

  Matty-Bob closed the distance between them. Raised his knife. Snarled.

  The screech of tyres.

  A maroon Nissan Qashqai squealed around the corner, almost going up on two wheels.

  Matty-Bob froze, looked confused at what he saw coming towards him.

  Then the large family car thumped into him, sent him toppling into the air, over the panoramic sunroof, and back down to the unforgiving road.

  There the man lay now, panting in the street, his antique tuxedo torn and wet with blood.

  Sally pulled on the handbrake and leapt out of the car. She approached her naked, panicked husband with caution. “Iain, what the hell is going on?”

  He shrugged. “You know, just work.”

  Sally grabbed Jack out of his car seat and moved Iain away from the injured maniac on the road. The neighbours arrived and tried to understand what they were seeing. Pretty soon they seemed to get a grasp on the situation and didn’t seem to mind the fact that Iain was naked at all. In fact, both the men and women in the crowd seemed delighted by what they saw. They couldn’t help themselves but wink and purr in his direction.

  One of the members of the crowd stepped forward to speak with Iain. “I’m sorry we weren’t here to help, Mr Rob Wright. A man as talented and handsome as you should always have someone watching out for him. Rest assured that from now on, no one in this street will ever fail you. We are forming an Iain Rob Wright Protection Society and will never again allow you to come to harm.”

  Iain nodded and shook hands with the man. “Thank you, thank you.”

  “Iain?”

  Iain opened his eyes and saw his wife staring at him. “Sally?”

  “Yes, I just said the police are on the way. Come on, we need to go inside and get you covered up. You’re freaking everybody out. I think you messed yourself a little at the back.”

  Iain looked down at the shit on the back of his thigh and realised he must have done it when he was running in terror. He was usually due a toilet break around now – he’d missed it. He looked over at Matty-Bob who was still down on the ground, semi-concious. “Is this the price of fame?” he asked his wife.

  “No,” she said. “This is the price of you being a dope. Now come on, inside.”

  Later on his official blog, Iain Rob Wright wrote concerning the incident:

  “I don’t know if I can ever get over something like that… It’s weird. Even though I know Matty-Bob is institutionalised, I still think about him once in a while.”

  Following the blog post was a single comment, left by a fan named Brian Stone. He simply stated: Didn’t you steal that from Misery?

  END.

  THE REAL LIFE MATTY-BOB

  PART 2: REVENGE OF THE BOB

  “Why is it that as soon as you move into a new house, you find the walls are made from papier mâché and the carpets are actually sixty percent insect carcasses? This place looked lovely when we viewed it.”

  Sal stared at me like I was a child—the default setting for how my wife looked at me. “Iain, we’ve changed the carpets and they're lovely now. The walls are being re-plastered and painted next week. Cheer up, you miserable bugger.”

  "I'm not a miserable bugger," I mumbled. "You're a miserable bugger." I heaved a wooden side table into the skip and watched it splinter. It seemed roughly half of our belongings were damaged in the move, causing me to bleed even more money replacing everything. I vowed never to move house again. Sal was glaring at me, daring me not to snap out of my mood. “I know, I know," I said. "I’m just stressed. The dishwasher door is still missing. When are the builders coming?” I looked at a white van across the road, wishing it was them, but it wasn't.

  “Tomorrow, so stop bloody moaning. Will you go round the back and see if you can find the water meter? I need to sort all the utilities out before Christmas.”

  I nodded. Then left her on
the driveway to get the kid’s out of the car. Jack was singing Christmas songs and Molly was crying because she was hungry. The normal soundtrack to my life lately. In fact, it was a relaxing break going to the side of my house all by myself.

  The electricity and gas had meters sat in boxes on the wall, but the water readout had so remained elusive. The builders had said to look for a manhole cover in the garden so that was where I looked. The previous owners left a lot of debris—plant pots and such—and I had to kick it aside as I cut a path along the patio. I could see no manhole covers anywhere, but I did spot an opening at the base of the retaining wall between the elevated lawn and the sunken patio. It looked like a drain—a wide, narrow hole cut horizontally into the bottom of the brick wall. Inside, it was pitch-black. A shiver danced along my spine. I looked back to see where Sal was, but the driveway was quiet. She’d taken the kids inside.

  I stared into the drain. Could it be where the water meter was hiding? It seemed a strange thing to have in a garden, but I wasn’t much of an expert about plumbing. I got down on my hands and knees to take a closer look, and cold air wafted in my face, along with the smell of…

  Gingerbread?

  Something shone in the darkness. The glint of an eye.

  “Hiya, Iain!”

  I froze, an icicle stabbing right into my heart. I knew that voice.

  Two familiar eyes glared back at me from the drain. My lower lip trembled. “W-what are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I came to play,” purred the voice in the sewer. “Do you want to play a game?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  "Too bad!"

  An arm shot out of the drain and grabbed my wrist. I struggled to get free, but the weight pulling me down was too much. My hand disappeared into the shadows and I couldn't retrieve it.

  I felt teeth against my flesh.

  “Ouch! Shit, why are you biting me?”

  “Mmmph… Because I… mmph… heard horror authors taste like… mmph… Bovril.”

  The revulsion helped me to yank my hand back, and I scrambled away from the drain, screaming at the top of my lungs. “SAL! SAL, COME QUICK!”