Mama's Boy and Other Dark Tales (25 page)

"It was a night to remember for sure. A slice here, a stab there, and an amazing fuck. What a shame to have to end it, but I had to be true to my Victoria. Wendy was just a distraction—an appetizer before the main course. But she did have lovely fingers. Although I hadn't planned to visit the bitch, I was fortunate to find plenty of baggies in her kitchen. I didn't think she'd miss them anymore.

"It was well past midnight when I got home, and I was surprised how understanding Mama was when I went in the bedroom to say goodnight. It seemed that she'd had a real change of heart since her illness. In fact, she didn't really say much of anything anymore—she only seemed to talk when I was feeling upset.

"I hadn't told her about Victoria yet, but after my evening with Wendy I was feeling better about the whole lipstick mess and decided to make the news about Victoria a special surprise for Mama. She hadn't left the house since her illness, so I thought we'd make an outing of it.

"'You get a good night's sleep now, Mama. I've got a surprise for you tomorrow.’ I kissed her cold forehead. The twist at the corner of her mouth hadn't healed yet, but I was sure I saw a hint of a smile. By the haze covering her eyeballs I could see that she was tired, so I tucked the covers up around her ears so she wouldn't roll off the bed or get a chill. Even in the warm weather she was cold—poor circulation, I guess.

"Since there was no electricity, I'd rigged up a propane tank and a heater for the bath. It was time to get myself cleaned up after a busy day. Wendy had turned out to be a very dirty girl, but truth be told, I liked it messy. So I fired up the heater and filled the old tub. One of those odd chills in the house made the steam roll off the water like fog. I added some of Mama's rose oil and slid into the hot water with my buck knife and sharpening stone in hand. The curve of the old claw foot tub felt good against my back as I circled the blade of my knife slowly around and around on the smooth stone. Sharpening was like meditation for me, and soon my body relaxed and my mind began to wander.

"The thought of Victoria's milky skin and long legs came into my head. I imagined her naked, stepping into the tub with me. I felt my dick harden at the thought of her smooth ass lowering into my lap and the curve of her back pressing against my chest. In my mind, steam from the bath beaded on her long black hair as I smoothed the soap over her shoulders and around her breasts. She'd arch her back when I bit her tender neck. Then my beautiful Victoria would move in slow circles against me, and when she finished her teasing, she'd lean forward onto her knees, lifting her ass in front of me. Grabbing the rim of the tub, she'd looked back with a smile, and say, ‘Fuck me, Henry.'

"I kept hold of my buck knife while my other hand slipped from the sharpening stone to my dick. I was fully enjoying my fantasy when I heard a sound outside the door. It was late and Mama wasn't getting around so well these days, so I was surprised to hear her out in the hall. She stopped outside the bathroom door.

"
Goddamn it, Mama
, I thought to myself, but instead, I said, ‘What is it, Mama?’ No answer. So I continued with the work at hand.

Just as I was about to finish my business, the door opened a few inches. I was too far gone to stop. I still had a grip on my knife and I jerked my dick with a vengeance just to spite Mama for interrupting me. I wasn't giving this one up for anything. It was for Victoria!

"'Hen-ry.'

I jerked harder and faster; ready to go.
Fuck her!
I thought.

"'Hen-ry.'

"A rotting gray hand curled around the edge of the door, and through the steam I saw the index finger had been hacked away. All at once, I came and screamed and leaped out of the tub, brandishing my buck knife. Body still twitching, I stood naked, dripping on the dirty tiles of the bathroom floor. The fingers slipped away and the door closed after them as I stood there staring, bug-eyed.

"The room was suddenly ice cold and reeking with a musty smell. I shook from the chill or my fear, or both.
What the fuck was that?
I inched over to the door, and with the tip of my knife I flicked the lock. Reluctant to touch it, I listened for sounds in the hall, but hearing nothing I finally gave in and pressed my ear hard against the wood door, straining to listen.
BAMM!

"The sound seared through my ear as something smashed into the door with such force that it split the oak panel. I nearly pissed myself jumping back behind the tub, clutching my knife so tight that my fingers ached. I stood there shaking, waiting, but the house stayed quiet and the chill in the room disappeared and it was filled up again with the warmth of the steamy bath and the scent of Mama's rose oil.

"I managed to dress myself without letting go of my knife. What I'd seen just didn't make sense—it couldn't have happened. Since putting things out of my mind was a skill I learned from life with Mama, I tried to convince myself that it had all been my imagination. With my knife and lantern in hand, I opened the bathroom door. The split wood panel was hard to explain, so I just ignored it. The house was silent, but when I shined the light outside the door, the hall floor was covered from end to end with hundreds of empty baggies.

"'What the fuck is going on?’ I screamed to the house. Trying not to fall on the slippery plastic bags, I went down the hall to the room where Mama had been sleeping. I slammed the door behind me and locked it. Lifting the lantern, I could see that Mama was lying peacefully, tucked right into the middle of her pillow like I'd left her. She was oblivious to what was going on in the house. Not knowing what else to do, I held onto my buck knife and climbed into bed next to Mama. Of course, I was only there to make sure she was safe. She never stirred. I layed awake most of the night, but drifted off eventually, waking just before dawn, as usual. I was still holding my knife and Mama was there beside me.

"Slipping out of bed so as not to disturb Mama, I walked across the cold floor and poked my head out the door. All the baggies were gone from the hall. Suspicious of what might be waiting for me, I made my way to the bathroom. There was no crack in the door. Relieved, I decided I must have dreamt the whole thing. What else could it be?

"Mama was groggy and her eyes were cloudy when I woke her, but I could tell she wanted to go out. I washed her face and brushed her hair, taking a little extra time to make sure it was just right. Since her illness, Mama's appearance had deteriorated, and because she was so self-conscious about it, I wrapped her up and tucked her in a sack. Since she was always cold, it worked out well. The flies had become a nuisance, so I grabbed some bug spray on the way out.

"I carried Mama to the van. She complained that the seatbelt was uncomfortable across her chin, so I unbuckled her, hoping she wouldn't roll off the seat. I fired up the van and we headed into Philadelphia for a surprise visit to see Victoria.

"'Mama,’ I said, ‘I know you've been worried about me finding a good girl. Right?’ No response, but I could tell she was listening by the tilt of her head. ‘Well, I've found her! Her name is Victoria Lystner, and I'm taking you to meet her right now.'

"I was worried when Mama didn't say anything. I thought she'd be more excited, but I knew once she saw Victoria she'd be happy for me. We parked close to the convenience store, and I went around to help her out of the van. Carrying her to the store window, I said, ‘Now Mama, this is kind of a double surprise. Victoria doesn't know we're coming, so I'm going to let you peek in the window before we go inside.’ I uncovered her and lifted her up so she could see over the signs in the window. ‘Just keep your eye out for her. She's the tall, pretty one with the long black hair.'

"I thought I heard a scream from inside the store, but I didn't want to alarm Mama, so I said, ‘Isn't she beautiful?’ No response. ‘Mama?’ She seemed a little miffed, so I stepped up to the window myself. No Victoria. There was only the stupid girl that stole her lipstick. She was screaming about something, and pointing in my direction.

"I was pissed. Where in the hell was Victoria? She was supposed to be working that day. I had painstakingly mapped out her schedule for weeks and she should have been there!

"'Goddamn it!’ I said. ‘Oh, sorry, Mama. I know you don't like it when I cuss.’ Mama didn't say anything, she just stared off into the distance, but I could tell that she was insulted that Victoria hadn't shown up. I was beginning to have second thoughts myself, and feeling that old rage rising in me like it did with the other girls. I tried to contain my anger, but I was a little rough with Mama when I put her back in the van. I couldn't seem to get her in the seat right. She kept listing to one side. Noticing how upset I was, she looked at me with her hazy blue eyes, and spoke clearly for the first time in weeks.

"'Henry, if that girl can't even show up to meet your mama, she ain't no good!'

"'I don't know, Mama. I thought she was different.'

"'Well, any girl that stands my boy up ain't worth shit, as far as I'm concerned. But don't you worry, your mama will always love you.'

"I felt a little better with Mama talking to me again. ‘Thanks, Mama,’ I said. ‘I know I'll never find a girl like you.’ As we rode home in silence, I decided I needed to make a phone call. I headed for the nearest payphone. ‘Hello, this is David,’ I said. ‘I'm the new assistant manager at the Arch Street Shoppette. I was wondering why Victoria, uh, I mean, Vicki didn't show up for work today.'

"'Vicki's home sick,’ said Missus Lystner. ‘What did you say your name was?'

"'David. I'm the new assistant manager. When can we expect her back at work?'

"'I already told Mister Harris that she would be out for a while.'

"'Are you sure? He didn't tell me that. What exactly's wrong with her that kept her from coming to work on such an important day?'

"'What are you talking about—important day?'

"'Oh, nothing. I'm sorry, I must be confusing her with someone else. But it's important to tell me what's wrong so I can pass it on to Mister Harris.'

"'Well, if you must know. Some creep played a very sick joke on Vicki in
your
store. She's had a difficult past and that prank really upset her. If we didn't need the money, she'd never come back to work there.'

"The damned lipstick! I felt worried that my plan was unraveling. Mama's condition was getting worse, so I needed her to meet Victoria soon.

"'Well, if she wants to keep her job,’ I said, ‘she better be back to work by Monday. We've got a business to run here.’ It was a gamble, but I had to push her.

"'I don't like your tone.'

"'Well, does your daughter need this job or not? I have a list of candidates eager to fill her position.'

"'Well, yes. Unfortunately, she does,’ said Missus Lystner.

"'We'll see her on Monday, then. Right?” I sounded too eager, but the gamble had worked.

"'Yes.’ She hung up.

"I was back on track, but with Victoria's unstable condition and Mama's deterioration, I had to speed up my plans. Victoria would be going back to work on Monday, so that left only three days before I'd have to put my final plan into action. The house wasn't nearly ready, but Victoria would be marrying me, not the house.

"By Sunday, the honeymoon suite was almost complete, with white satin linens, new curtains, and a lace canopy with fringe. Mama told me girls like fringe. I scrubbed and polished the fancy woodwork, and I hung out of the windows, cleaning them until they shined. In the morning, I would add candles and flowers as the finishing touch.

"The rest of the house was still a sight, but the wedding suite was ready, and by the end of the day I was dead tired. After tucking Mama into bed for the night, I turned in. It had been a busy weekend, but worth it to please my Victoria. I knew Mama would love her once they met. Or at least, I hoped so.

"For once it was warm in my room from the heat of the day, so I stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed. I'd fallen asleep quickly, but sometime in the night that damn chill filled the room again, and I woke up freezing. It was still summertime, and I couldn't explain the cold that kept creeping into the old house.

"It was dark as pitch and the wood floor was chilly on my bare feet as I shuffled around, feeling for my shirt and pants. Moving around blind, my foot hit something cold that blocked my way to the dresser. I didn't remember leaving anything in the middle of the floor. If I was anything, it was neat and tidy.

"When I reached down to move whatever was blocking my way, my hand sunk into a cold and fleshy blob that shivered when I touched it. Shocked, I stumbled backward and fell, hitting my head on the bed frame. I yelled in pain, and a female voice from the fleshy mass began to giggle under its breath, the sound growing until it became a hysterical cackle that echoed through the house.

"Terrified and freezing, I groped for the bed and squeezed myself underneath, the old springs stabbing my naked back. I held my breath, straining to see what was in my room, but it was too dark. The laughter stopped suddenly and a slow shuffling sound moved across the floor toward me while the springs of the bed creaked to life above.

"'Hen-ry, you can't hide from us,” a voice teased from on top of the bed. An icy cold hand grabbed my foot, and the cackling started again. I screamed, struggling to get loose. Like a vise, the hand held my foot and another hand yanked at my toes.

"'This little piggy went to market,’ it giggled. ‘This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef.” Then it screamed, ‘But this little piggy had no fucking toes to keep counting because Henry Fucking Rutt cut them off!’ A searing pain ripped through my foot as my toe was severed. I shrieked in agony.

"In a frenzy, I screamed and kicked until my foot came loose from the icy grip. I scrambled on my hands and knees toward the door; mercifully, it was open. Grabbing the doorframe, I struggled to stand up and hobbled down the hall as fast as I could move.

"A shrieking voice came from behind me, ‘Where do you think you're going, Henry Rutt?’ Heading for the stairs, I tripped and fell in a heap at the open door of the honeymoon suite. I stood up, wincing, and saw that the room was ablaze with candles. The canopy was shredded to pieces and streaked with dark stains; the furniture lay smashed and scattered around the room; and my black leather bag of mementos was tipped over, the wet fingers oozing over the satin covers.
MURDERER!!
was scrawled on the wall above the headboard in dripping red letters.