One Last Time

By: Shawn Baker

 My eyes open to a room full of darkness and I find myself in bed alone. I am assuming Bella made her way to the restroom again. She has been sick for the last few days, but refuses to let me take her to the hospital. She is the most hard headed woman I have ever met, but I wouldn't trade her for the world.

I close my eyes and begin to drift off to sleep when I am awoke by a loud noise. I sit up, staring at the door. Again, I hear a loud thump. I slide on my slippers and make way for the bedroom door. I open it slowly, eyes squinting as they struggle to adjust to the hallway light.

“Bella...honey?”

No response.

As I head out into the hallway, an intense uneasiness overwhelms me. I look to my left and see that the bathroom door is open and empty. I hear the tv on in the living room.

“Bella babe?” Again, no response.

I take two more steps down the hallway before I am met by Bella at the end of the hall.

“You feeling any better baby,” I ask.

She stares at me, eyes dark and hollow.

“Bell…” I am interrupted by a fierce growl, followed by her charging after me. My instincts kick in and I immediately grab her by the throat. I pin her against the wall.

“BELLA….BABE.”

I immediately start to cry as I clearly see that the love of my life is gone. Physically present, but that is it. I stand there, hand wrapped tightly around her throat. She continues to stare at me blankly, growling in between attempts to bite me.

I lead her into the bathroom by her throat. Once we are inside, I shove her towards the sink and exit immediately, closing the door with a sense of urgency. Standing in the hallway, my thoughts overwhelm me to the point I have become lightheaded and begin to feel nauseous. Frozen in place, my vision slowly comes back into focus. I follow the sound of the television.

I find our living room in a disastrous state. The coffee table has been flipped over. Mail, magazines and various papers are scattered across the floor. The couch and loveseat cushions are ripped. Once my mind processes this chaos, my attention is turned towards the emergency broadcast on the tube. The chief of police is being interviewed by a Channel 10 reporter.

“At this point in time, all we know for sure is that bites spread the infection. Stay away from those who are sick. Avoid being bit. We have managed to ship some of them off for testing. We are currently awaiting results from the CDC. In the meantime, my men and I shall continue our fight to maintain the outbreak...”

I turn the tv off and make way to the bedroom. I sit on the edge of bed, distraught as I look at a picture of Bella and I on the day I proposed to her. Considering how quickly the world had gone to shit, I have lost damn near all certainty. In fact, the only two things I am certain about is that the creature scratching and growling at the bathroom door is no longer the woman I fell in love with and she will never be that woman again.

After swallowing that tough pill of reality, I rise and walk to the utility closet in the hallway. I grab some rope, two rolls of duct tape, a pillow case, and an aluminum baseball bat. My heart is beating rapidly as I approach the bathroom door. I take 3 deep breaths and proceed to open it. I open it with a push, knocking Bella backwards. I use my bat to sweep her off of her feet. As soon as she falls to the ground, I place my foot on her neck while I cover her head with the pillowcase. I duct tape the casing around her neck several times. Once secure, I pick her up by the neck and drag her into the bedroom.

Using the rope, I tie her right arm and leg to the upper right bedpost. I repeat this step by doing the same with her left arm and leg to the upper left bedpost. I stand at the end of the bed, staring. I am completely stupefied by the sight of my “lady.”

Snapping out of my state of confusion, I grab my bowie knife out of the bedroom closet. I walk over to the head of the bed, bend down and whisper, “I love you Bella,” into her ear. She continues to growl and shake furiously.

I make a clean cut down the side of her night shorts. They slide right off. I take a moment to admire her vagina. I smile as I think about all the times I used to fuck it. I walk over to the dresser and grab the KY jelly out of the top drawer. I take my boxers off and cover my penis with lubricant.

I make way to the bed and get on top of Bella. I rub her chest and abdomen gently with both hands.

“I never thought it would end like this Bella Babe. The world as we know it is over but our love will never die. It's like Tesla says, love will find a way.”

I kiss each nipple and slowly insert my dick inside of her. I pound away. I ignore her growls of satisfaction for the most part, but occasionally growl back at her. I thrust myself to completion. I lean back slightly on my knees and watch my ejaculation languidly leak from her cold, lifeless body.

I reach over and pick up my bowie knife from the nightstand. I cut the pillowcase off of her head. We stare into each other's eyes briefly.

“I love you Bella. You were my reason to live. I refuse to carry on without you.”

I caress the side of her face with the back of my hand. I lower myself towards her, allowing Bella to take a bite from my neck. I sit upward, smiling at Bella as blood gushes out of my neck. I fall off the side of the bed. I lay there, back to the floor as I stare at the ceiling. I can't stop smiling as everything fades to black...

One Last Time

By: Shawn Baker

Playing With Fire

            The summer Tampa air was suffocating and sticky, the way a sauna gets after some old man walks in and dumps a fresh bucket of water on the hot stones. On the kind of day when your shirt sticks to you from sweat before you hit the end of your driveway. My best friend Craig and I decided to build a fire in the woods behind our neighborhood. I was thirteen then, and a nerd in every possible way. I collected comic books and Batman action figures. I wore shorts that didn’t come close to touching my knees and sported a Star Wars tee shirt three days out of the week. I even found a way to put a nerd twist on sports. I invented games in my yard that only required one player, and had every single sports card (of which there were nearly 2,000) in order of team and position, a task that ate up countless hours of my youth. I had glasses by the time I was ten years old and had braces by twelve which just cemented my nerd status in the eyes of others.

  I spent most of my childhood as a loner, which is why I truly enjoyed Craig’s company. What really stuck out about our friendship to others was the fact that we were exact opposites. Craig was a grade above me and very popular. He wore cooler clothes, nicer sneakers, and a white sea shell necklace that I loved to make fun of him for. Total opposites. 

            On this day Craig had called me up. After fifteen minutes of pleading and calling me a pussy, convinced me to help him and his friend Anthony build a fire in the woods. My reluctance came not from the idea of starting a fire in the worst possible place, but rather in Craig’s choice of accomplice. I hated Anthony as much as anyone that doesn’t yet know real problems can hate any living being. And he despised me equally.  

            So there we were, about a hundred yards from the pond, in the middle of a cluster of young trees that we deemed the best place to exercise our inner arsonists. We began with dead twigs and dried leaves. My early days in rural Indiana had helped me become quite the fire starter, so I was appointed that job. Craig went off in search for bigger pieces of wood and Anthony left to find “some cool shit to throw in this bitch.” The one thing I had in common with Anthony was our insatiable need to blurt out profanities.

            Ten minutes later Anthony returned with a destroyed desktop, which to our delight burned with a variance of colors ranging from blue to green to purple. The playful dance of the flames kept us entertained us for only a few minutes. It turns out PC’s don’t burn that well.

I was sitting on a log watching some ants that I had picked up with a stick when I heard a consistent banging over my right shoulder. I stood up, my Pod Racer tee shirt wrapped around my head in my best version of a bandana. I turned to see Anthony chopping down a small tree, so young that it was green underneath its bark. For twenty minutes, Anthony hacked away without succeeding. Finally, Craig decided he wanted to go for a quick bike ride down the trail in the woods into the neighboring county. He was craving a Slurpee from the gas station. 

            A few minutes later, a voice in the distance called out “Hey, Punks. I just called the fire Marshall and ya’ll got ‘bout ten minutes to get the hell off my property or I’m gonna press charges on you little bastards.”

I had no idea who this old man was, but he didn’t sound like he was messing around. I started sweating, not due to the heat for the first time that day. Of course, Craig was long gone by now, and who do I have to turn too? I let out a sigh like a dart-less Nerf gun.

            Anthony, never a fan of authority, was quick to retort, “Shut the hell up old man, this isn’t your property. This is a public place, leave us alone and go back inside… Dumb ass.” The last part of that sentence, for whatever reason, was more of a mumbled after thought by my account.

            I decided that I didn’t want to stick around to see if the old man was bluffing. “Hey Tony I’m outta here man, I’ll see ya later.” 

He was not happy to hear this.

“Are you kidding me pussy? We haven’t even made a real fire yet. Don’t let that geezer get your panties all bunched up.”

             My cheeks flashed instantly in an almost shameful cherry red and I could feel the tops of my ears getting warm.

            Next came a teeter-totter of insults, for what only seemed like a few minutes. A second voice called from the distance. “Fire Marshall! You kids stay where you are!”

            “Oh, shit.” I exclaimed as I hopped on my bike as fast as I could and tore down the path Craig had taken earlier. Anthony was right on my heels. I could feel my heart beating in my throat as I lifted up my handle bars to avoid a tree stump that was obstructing my path. The exhilaration flowed through my veins and gave me a sensation that I have only ever felt in a time of mischief.

I jumped it. Anthony wasn’t so lucky. 

I looked back as I heard the crash; it wasn’t a major accident by any means. I saw no blood on Anthony and he hopped back unto his bike almost immediately. However, his bike’s chain was broken. “Wait! Come back man, my bike’s jacked up, shit.” 

            The Fire Marshall had almost caught up by now. I didn’t slow down, my hands stayed off the break.

 I didn’t even blurt out some lame excuse for why I couldn’t help him; I just smiled, faced forward and flew down the dirt path to freedom, if only temporarily.

---

By, 

Kevin Nivek

Handled Part I: The Meet In The Heat

     Candles lit the room, accompanied by the hypnotic glow of a television. Transfixed, the man stared at the newscast, blindly stabbing his fork at an empty plate.

“… This is the third victim this weekend, leaving locals afraid to travel downtown at night. I spoke to Police officials this afternoon..” The reporter was interrupted as the television abruptly went blank. The remote dropped with a clang on the dining room table. Startled, the man dropped his fork to the floor.

“Sir, if I may be so bold, what on earth has you so fixated on that television that you would scratch up the good China?” The bald butler asked as he bent over for the fork. He looked up as he rose, his face emphasizing his worry. He would receive no response, as the man turned instead to his rocks glass, tilting it up until the whiskey was gone.

“Sir, let me refresh that for you.” The call came from across the room as another bald butler with matching vest, tie, and goatee strode in from the hallway. He grabbed the glass and briskly moved to the bar. Tending the glass as he spoke. “What’s the tension here? Did someone break more China?” Shooting a glance towards his brother, he received only a shrug in return. Walking back to the table, he sat the glass down and motioned to his twin.

 “I could use your help downstairs.” He grabbed the plate from the table and head for the hallway with his brother in tow, fork in hand. Grabbing the remote, the man stood from the table as he powered up the screen. He immediately rewound the broadcast until he saw the familiar reporter. Pulling a sip from his whiskey glass, he pressed play.

“..Police officials this afternoon. When asked if this string of now 18 homicides against our city’s homeless population was the act of a serial killer, comment was declined. Back to you Rich.”

He tilt the glass once more, setting it down before heading to the hallway.
                                                             ________________________

    The sun beamed down relentlessly on the city streets as drivers attempt to beat the heat during evening rush hour. Those with air conditioning sat quietly in their cars in relief. Those without wiped sweat off of their faces while honking furiously at prolonged stoplights and fellow motorists.

Columbus, Ohio was experiencing record temperatures this summer. Oscar was no stranger to the heat or the cold for that matter. He had been a resident of the streets for the past 20 years or better. He never quite found his footing once his mother passed away. He was never any good in the romance department, so settling down with a woman was never in the plans for him. Oscar couldn’t have cared less about a relationship. In fact, the only thing he ever cared about was when, where, and how he was going to get high. Oscar loved his booze, but he rather smoke, shoot, or snort. He would do just about anything he could get his hands on.

Standing on the corner of Cleveland and Morse Rd, with a sign was never his style. He’d rather spend the time it took to make one looking for change in parking lots. Instead, he had a song-and-dance routine he’d been using since the late 90’s. Members of the community he most frequently loitered in referred to him as “The Boogie Bum.” Oscar was having a good day so far. He had already made $35 off of 12 cars, one of which gave him a $10 bill. That’s not including the $1.27 in change he found in the CVS parking lot.

As Oscar stood basking in his glory, he noticed a black stretch limo with a bald driver pull up in front of him. The back window rolled down and Oscar looks perplexed as he makes eye contact with a middle aged gentleman. The man in the limo grins at Oscar, amused by his blank stare.

 “Don’t stop the show on my account,” says the man. Oscar grins back nervously, at a loss for words. Taking notice of Oscar’s uneasiness, the man continued. “No need to be shy, my friend. I’m here to help. I think I may have an opportunity for you to earn some income.” Oscar stared blankly in response. The man pressed on.

 “I can provide you with further details if you are interested. Just hop in and we can discuss it.” Oscar looked in both directions before taking an uncertain step forward. “What kind of work? Oscar stammered. He wanted any reason to say no, but he was desperate for a fix. The man responded patiently.

“I’d rather not discuss it here. I tell you what, jump on in, we’ll grab some dinner, and I’ll tell you all about it. No strings attached. If you aren’t interested, hey, at least you got a meal out of it.” Oscar looked around for another moment, rubbing his fingers together nervously as he stepped up and reached for the door. It swung open before he could reach it, and Oscar timidly entered the limo.

TO BE CONTINUED

Written By: Shawn B. & Kevin Nivek 

I Just Gotta Pee

 Traffic on 71-N was unusually light this morning as Nikki made her way to Cleveland from Columbus. She and her boyfriend, Randy were committed to a long distance relationship. Randy moved to Cleveland about 4 months ago to help take care of his sick aunt. Nikki understood and supported his decision, but was still learning to adjust. Nikki made it a point to go up to Cleveland every weekend to see Randy. So far, the trips had been pleasant, but expensive.

The sounds of U2 and John Mayer kept her company on the drive. Nikki loved to sing to herself in the rearview mirror. It was an activity that helped pass time on the road. She was a full-time student at Paul Mitchell Beauty School. Nikki was just starting her summer vacation. This time she would be staying with Randy for a whole week.  They were ecstatic.

Nikki was about halfway to her destination when she pulled over to a rest stop. The area was nearly a ghost town. There was only one other vehicle parked on the opposite side of the lot. She parked her little Corolla and made way to the ladies room. Upon entering, there was a young girl ahead of Nikki, getting ready to enter the far stall near the wall. Her silver blonde hair was laced with a blue ribbon with white polka dots. The girl stopped in front of the stall and stared at Nikki.

“Hello sweetie,” said Nikki.

The girl continued to look at Nikki as if she had seen a ghost. Starting to feel uncomfortable, Nikki began to enter her stall. That is when she felt a heavy blow to the head. Nikki fell to the floor. Looking upward, she saw a large man standing above her. He hit Nikki three more times in the face. Nikki’s vision was starting to blur.

“I’ll teach you not to follow little girls into the bathroom, freak,” yelled the assailant.

The man stomped on Nikki multiple times before dragging her out of the bathroom. Yelling hateful insults along the way, he pulled her into the hallway. “Stay your faggotedy ass out of the women’s room!” The antagonist followed this statement by spitting on Nikki. He looked to his daughter who had just exited the restroom.

“C’mon Lizzie, let's go.” He and his daughter left the facility quickly.

Nikki laid on the cold, tiled floor crying as she spit up blood. “Whhhhyyyyyyy,” she screamed at the ceiling. After several minutes, she gained enough strength to lift herself up off the ground. She limped her way to the front door. As Nikki walked to her car, she noticed that her car was the only one left in the parking lot. Once she was safely inside of her Corolla, the tears poured down her face as she took deep breaths. She took her time to gather her thoughts before hitting the road. Once she felt calm, she made her way back to 71-N. Thoughts raced through Nikki’s mind as she drove her way to Randy’s. Should I call the police? Should I go to the hospital? How do I explain what happened to Randy? What the fuck should I do?

Nikki had drove for about 4 miles on the freeway before it started to become a parking lot. She was starting to get irritated. All she wanted was to get to where she felt safe and loved. Once traffic started to move, she was able to get close enough to see what the holdup was.A semi had hit this little blue pickup truck. The truck was totalled. There were several cop cars and paramedics on site. There were no victims in sight. Nikki assumed they were already inside the ambulance. As traffic progressed past the scene of the accident, Nikki noticed that a blue ribbon with white polka dots rested on a tree branch off to side of the freeway. Nikki drove the rest of the way to Randy’s in silence.

- Shawn B.

Bad Dinner Guests: The Morning After by Kev Nivek

Click the link below for the newest short story in the BDG collection!

Bad Dinner Guests: The Morning After by Kev Massing: 

The Morning After By Kev Massing I wake up to the chilly sensation that can only be experienced after a night of sleeping dre...

The Fox and the Cat: Broken Canolli - A short story by Lucius

The Fox and the Cat: Broken Canolli

       "Smoking Fox, do you copy? Fox do you copy?" Silver Cat was monitoring tonight's attack mission into the DiPalma crime family.

Raiding this weapons cash will injure their main armory, Smoking Fox thinks before responding to his colleague.

"Silver Cat this is Smoking Fox, I'm in position. I can't tell how many are inside, but I see three men armed with tech nines and shot guns."

"Excellent, I'll start the two car alarms out front. We need to be in and out fast, I don't want to deal with reinforcements."

"Ever since we teamed up I never get to have fun." After a single keystroke the alarms of the two cars parked in the drive start screaming bloody murder into the peaceful night air of this five bedroom three level colonial style with efficiency apartment over the attached garage. 

          Six large men storm out of the dwelling in the middle of nowhere. Wearing black military dress battle uniforms, they proceed to surround the two vehicles parked side by side in front of the garage. The armed guards, finding no apparent evidence of third party intervention turn off the alarms file into line proceeding to start walking back into the house.

As the last guard passes Smoking Fox silently jumps down stabbing the gangster vertically down through the top of his skull. Swiftly slinging his sword through the air, slashing through the spine of the sixth guard paralyzing him from the waist down. He hits the ground alerting the last four guards. Briskly leaping toward the fourth the hero decapitates him grabbing his fresh corpse and throwing it into the third knocking him down then throws two knives into the right eye of each of the last two guards.

The third guard from under his brother's dead body throws a M67 fragmentation grenade. Our hero kicks the hand grenade back so hard it gets stuck in the guard’s mouth, resembling a hog being carried to the roast. Smoking Fox then leaps towards the front door of the house out of the path of harm from the explosion.

As he stands up, he looks forward to a blinding flash and gunshot drowned out by Smoking Fox's temporarily deaf ears getting thrown three feet back by the sweet lead kiss into his chest of twelve gauge double 00 buck.  Slowly approaching our hero with his shotgun locked onto Smoking Fox visually scanning the man’s body for signs of life, readjusting his aim pointing his shotgun at the hero's head he pulls the pump action back when suddenly a shot rivaling the loudest thunder clap violates the sound barrier. 

          Quickly scrunching and relaxing his eyes to the touch of the fine pink mist blood bones amongst other pieces raining down on his face like a brain piñata. Regaining his composure is easier said than done.

On the bright side, if there was anyone left inside they wouldn't be now Fox thinks to himself. He turns around holding his fist up to signal Silver Cat to hold her position covering him in case backup shows up, he throws her a smile and a thumbs signaling thank you.

Twenty feet up into the tree forty fives meters down the drive of the house she sits in her makeshift sniper's perch, she sighs watching his back waiting for his signal to enter the house. 

          Smoking Fox keys the radio twice there all clear signal she climbs down onto the ground as the garage door starts to open revealing two large reinforced work trucks loaded with assorted military hardware automatic MP5s, M4s, M16s, AK-47s in automatics, various handguns, frag grenades including two M240s and a stinger missile launcher. Smoking Fox inspects the cargo making sure the explosives are secure as Silver Cat sprints to the garage within the second, she stops just at the threshold of the overheard door,

"Toss me the keys I'm in a hurry."

"Look just because you live life at a thousand miles per second doesn't mean you can rush me, we need to go over the plan." Smoking Fox proceeds to reach into a briefcase and pulling out an envelope and keys.

"Now that I have your attention you're going to follow me to the freeway but there is where we split ways. We need to keep these two trucks at two different locations, we don't have a frequency jamming garage big enough for both of them." Smoking Fox walks over to Silver Cat handing the keys to a truck and the envelope with directions and fifty thousand dollars American currency, a passport, wallet everything you need to fly out of country.

          "We'll meet up in Nice, one of France's most beautiful cities, especially this time of year. Once we're there we can see how the DiPalma family reacts to this hit. I also have a lead in another case, any questions?"

Why one of the most romantic cities in world? She screams in her mind, "No, but the last one to Nice buys dinner and drinks."

"Sounds fun, then you better run your flight isn't out of this state."

"No fair!!!" She screams as she runs to the wrong truck, fumbling with the keys finally getting into her getaway vehicle. As Silver Cat peels out Smoking Fox hops into the driver seat of his truck driving it out of the garage then climbs down from the cab proceeding to calmly walk to the door accessing the kitchen from the garage and tosses a frag grenade then get back into the running and drives off, looking in the driver side mirror he sees the natural gas explosion sparked by the M27 frag grenade, thinking to himself about phase two Canolli Cruncher.

- Lucius

The Morning After by Kev Massing

I wake up to the chilly sensation that can only be experienced after a night of sleeping drenched in your own sweat. I’ve had the dream every night for the past 15 months and not once has the vividness of these awful images dimmed in my mind’s eye.

            I close my eyes and sit up. Head resting on my forearms, which in turn are rested on my knees, I take deep breaths until my heartbeat slows and my mind clears. I have no idea how long this takes, but it seems to me that it takes a little longer every day.

            Once calm, my senses begin to function again and I am reminded of the cold puddle I am sitting in, which I am now certain cannot be sweat. Upon opening my eyes, my calm state is obliterated with a mortar shell of panic and realization. The chill that crawls up my spine makes this  morning’s prior one feel like a cool breeze.

            I am sharing this sweat and piss riddled bed with the corpse of what was once a beautiful young woman; body taut yet twisted, like some kind of warped 2x4.

            The next thing I know I’m up to my chin in porcelain, every fluid I have spewing from my mouth with the viciousness of a geyser. There is neither a tear left in my eyes nor any mucus left in my nose. Rather, it has all gathered on my face and somehow my hands.

            I decide that the tub would be the best place to clean myself off.

            Bad Idea.

            An unforeseen round two erupts from my esophagus and lands with a splash at the bottom of the tub. Great, as if I hadn’t made a big enough mess here already.

            I clean myself off and venture out into the common area of the apartment to see if any of her roommates are awake. I doubt anyone could have slept through the guttural performance I just put on in the restroom. I scan the living and dining rooms quickly as they are technically the same room. I walk into the kitchen.

            All Clear.

            My heart is seemingly trying to escape my chest and its rampant beating is only worsened by  what my eyes show me next.

            Three doors. Her room, the bathroom, and one last unanswered question at the end of the hall.

           
            By the time I reach the door my palms are saturated. I reach my left arm out towards the knob slowly. The sun shines in from her bedroom window on my right, reflecting light on the doorknob and my glistening hand alike. In rolls a stagnant wave of putrid air from the bed. I almost throw up again.

            I reel in a deep breath, grab the handle, and yank the door open. I’m instantly hit in the face by some flying object.

            Shit.

            My eyes well up with more tears that I don’t want but can’t control. Mucus has announced it’s  return to my nose and is leaking down to my mouth. Whatever the hell that was just hit me square in the eye. Momentarily disoriented, I still manage to get my non-throbbing right eye open enough to see the face of my object-tossing adversary. I’m startled into laughter by what I see.

            It’s a closet.

            Nothing but a damned linen closet. I must have opened the door too quickly, causing a belt to fly off the hook on the inside of the door and hit me in the face. I stare at the belt on the floor and shake my head.

            My breathing begins to slow down and with that my brain appears to have returned from its brief hiatus. Suddenly a feeling rushes over me that I can best describe as the one a procrastinating college student gets when he finds out his midterm has been pushed back a week.

            I now have some time. No idea what to do with it, but it’s there nonetheless. This is good. I need time right now like a man on death row needs it, and if I don’t put my time to good use, that’s exactly where I’ll end up.

            No need to trying to search for clues of my innocence. I have no idea what happened here last night, but innocent or not, I'm certain I don't want to be here to plead my case with the detectives. Guilt sinks into my stomach like a rock. What the hell happened? Could I have done this?  Maybe in my blacked out state, my drunken subconscious did what I would never do. Maybe I'm one of those monsters you hear about, quietly waiting to reveal itself. Maybe I've been set up,
            Maybe, Maybe, Maybe. 

            I forcefully shake my head. Such thoughts are a waste of my time. I cannot solve the ‘whodunit’ mystery, What I need to remember is where I went. And who was with me, Who saw the two of us together last night. My hand has been forced. I have to cover all my tracks and determine if there is any way to buy myself some more time.

            I’m no fool; there is only one possible outcome for this story, and it features me sitting in a human bug zapper.

            Time. I have to find a way to give myself even more of it. I frantically search her room for evidence of my my presence. I don't find any, but I don't have a forensics kit handy either. Hustling back to kitchen, I find some ammonia and bleach under the sink. I carry both with me back to her room, unsure of which to use, but certain that I've seen one used to clean up a crime scene in a movie before.
           As I unscrew the ammonia bottle, a series of beeps startle me, causing the bottle to escape my grasp. I quickly scoop the emptying bottle from the floor before searching for the source of the sound. The pace of the beeps increased as I crawled to her nightstand. A half opened laptop lay next to it; placed near her head underneath the bed.
          The blue light of the screen flickered with every new sound. Hastily, I grab a handful of tissues before using them to open the laptop further.
          To my surprise, she had left her FacePage home open. An icon on the screen informs me that its's only 7:10 in the morning. Why is her page blowing up so early? One click on her notifications gives me my answer. All thirty three notifications were messages from a guy named Jack.
   
      -Wow. You blocked my phone number?
      - I know you don't want to talk right now, but I need my stuff from your apartment.

I scroll past some more hopeless begging until I get to this mornings batch of messages.
   
      - This isn't fair, you can't just have my shit,
      - Just leave it out in the hallway and I'll pick it up. You won't have to talk to me.
      -  Okay, fine. I'm coming over for my stuff. Please have it boxed up.

           Shit.
I'm pacing the room again, no idea what to do.
           Back to the plan.
I dump all the bleach  and the remaining ammonia in the bathroom. I wipe every accessible surface in a matter of five minutes, bringing the tissues with me as I exit the front door. I concentrate on looking casual as a head down the stairs.
       
            Entering the lobby, I'm stopped dead in my tracks.
 In my state, I didn't even hear the sirens.
 As the officers bolt towards the lobby elevator, their sound became deafening.

                                                               ________

                                                                       

  .

Welcome Home By: Shawn B.

Welcome Home

By:

Shawn B.

  It had been 3 months since Chet had moved in with his roommates. Overall, they had a pretty good relationship. Chet had known Rory since 6th grade. The two were inseparable. They stood side by side at graduation and kept in touch throughout adulthood. Chet had been living with his longtime girlfriend, but time had taken a toll on the young couple. They mutually decided it was best to take a break. After the split, Rory welcomed Chet into his home with open arms. Rory had a three bedroom apartment with his expectant girlfriend, Vanessa. It was not hard for the couple to agree upon letting Chet move in. Vanessa was 5 months into her pregnancy at that point, and they all three liked the idea of saving some money.

Chet was in a particularly good mood today. His roomies were getting ready to leave town for the weekend. Vanessa was having her baby shower in Vermont, where majority of her family lived. He loved his roommates, but the past couple of weeks had been tough. There was an unsettlingly tension throughout the house, especially between Chet and Vanessa. Vanessa hated that Chet smoked in the house, and Chet hated her cats. They were both on edge and due for some much needed time apart.

Chet was packing a bowl when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. “Who is it?”

“Rory bro.”

“Come in ya’ douche.” Rory opened the door and entered with a smirk on his face.

“Nice. You about to spark that up?”

“Nah. I was gonna wait until you guys rolled out. Why, you wanna hit it?”

“Please. It’s a long drive to Vermont. It’s even longer when you have a pregnant woman who’s about to pop, riding shotgun.” They both laughed.

“Yeah, I bet.”

Chet lit up the bowl and passed it to Rory. Rory took a big hit and proceeded to cough to the point of tears. “ Damn bro! Don’t die Rory.”

“Fuck you man.” Chet continued to smoke while his friend gained his breath.

“I better get on the road man,” said Rory. “Vanessa is downstairs waiting on me. I just wanted to say peace out to my boy. I know you are gonna enjoy having the place to yourself all weekend.”

“You bet your sweet ass I am. I’m gonna walk around this bitch butt booty naked the whole time.”

“I know that’s right. That’s what I’d be doing.” They both chuckled.

Rory stood up. The two exchanged fist bumps, then Rory left the room. Chet waited until he heard the front door open, close, and lock before making his way downstairs.

Chet entered the kitchen to find the leftover spaghetti he had thawing in the sink, scattered all over the floor.

“DAMN THESE CATS! I HATE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!?!?!” Chet angrily stomped through the apartment, searching for the feline culprits. One had hid behind the washer and dryer, thus making him unreachable. The other one was hiding behind the couch. Chet whacked her twice with the broom. She ran out from behind the couch and darted upstairs to Rory and Vanessa’s room.

“YOU STAY YOUR ASS UP THERE! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOUR STUPID, FURRY ASS FACE AGAIN! FUCKING BITCH!”

Chet smoked another bowl to calm himself down. He had had it with these cats. This kind of thing had become an everyday occurrence. Chet felt so disrespected by Vanessa. He tried to level with her and work together to come to a solution, but she wasn’t having it. Enough was enough.

Sunday came and Chet’s roommates were on their way home from Vermont. He felt it necessary to greet their return properly. He had decided to make them dinner. Chet hoped it would help relieve a bit of the tension that had been between him and Vanessa. Chet received a text from Rory, letting him know they were about an hour out. Chet made sure to let Rory know for them to come home hungry. Chet started gathering the ingredients and got to work.

Rory and Vanessa arrived to the aroma of a home cooked meal.

“Oh my, that smells good,” claimed Vanessa. “Yeah it does,” replied Rory.

Exhausted from the drive, they dropped their bags and nested on the couch.

“Hello roomies,” said Chet as he brought them each a plate.

“Wow Chet. You didn’t have to do this for us,” said Vanessa.

“It was my pleasure. I know things haven’t been great around here lately, so I thought I would do something to brighten the mood a bit.”

“Well thank you Chet. I appreciate it.”

“Me too. Are you not going to eat?” said Rory.

“I already had a plate. I couldn't wait. It looked too damn good.”

Rory and Vanessa wasted no time digging into the food. About 10 minutes had went by before either of them had said a word.

“Where are the cats,” asked Vanessa.

“I think they are upstairs. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

There was a brief, yet awkward silence.

“Great spaghetti, huh?” Chet asked with a grin as he took a sip of his wine.

Coming to Terms By Kev Massing

Frank’s fingers frantically fumbled the front padlock. Accepting the combination, the door slid open, momentarily revealing the chaos that was his living room. Stepping in, Frank dove for the couch, dodging the orange blur headed for his face. Looking to his right he locked eyes with the culprit, his grinning six year old son Mason.

            “What did I tell you about playing Hoverball in the house?” Frank’s tone was stern, but his smile gave him away. With a giggling devilish grin, his youngest took off down the hallway.

            “You’re doing a great job babysitting boys.” Frank called down the hall at his oldest boys Billy and Jason as he stood and entered the kitchen. Tossing his keycard and phone on the kitchen table, Frank called to his only daughter.

            “Jenny! Are you here? Who’s watching Mason!”

            “She’s not home yet.” A voice called from the hall. He couldn’t tell if it was Jason or Billy’s.

            “Where is she?” He waited impatiently for a response.

            “I dunno.” The voice called back after a pause.

Panic swelled inside Frank as he began to pace the room desperately, thinking of the places she could be. He didn’t remember hearing anything about practice or a project after school today. He sped to the kitchen table and fumbled with his phone. The recent news reports of terrorist kidnappings were running through his mind as he typed her UEID chip number into his App. Sweat dropped from his forehead, blurring the screen. Frank scrubbed furiously with his sleeve before working on his brow. Finally the blinking blue dot appeared at a location. 

The high school library. Sighing deeply in relief, Frank turned to the hallway with instructions for dinner.

“Ooof.” Spit flung from Frank as a blow to the gut knocked the wind out of him. Falling back,

he caught himself on the kitchen counter. Struggling to catch his breath, he braced himself.

            “Sorry Dad.” Jason muttered, rubbing his head.

            “It’s alright Jay, just be careful. And turn that news broadcast off. I don’t want your brother having invasion nightmares again.” Frank turned to call for Bill, but found his eldest now sitting at the kitchen counter. Eyes inches from the 3D gaming screen projecting from it, his right hand working the controls on the screen.

            “Dad will you sign for this game? It’s free.” Billy inquired without looking up from the counter.

            “So far so good, but what is it?” Frank didn’t want some Vamp or Ghoul popping up to scare his other children.

            “It’s called Earth Defense, it’s a tower defense game. Aliens are attacking Earth in their spaceships and you build up the Earth’s defense. Starting with your own neighborhood. It’s really cool Dad.” Frank held up his right hand to settle Billy down.

            “What is the age requirement?”

            “It’s 10 and up. You can set the password. We won’t let Mason play.” Frank reached for the IntelHome Holotablet controller on the coffee table.

            “Send me the link.” Frank grumbled at Billy. He was behind on dinner without Jenny home to help start it. The boys never wanted to help, but were quick to ask for a status update. Billy moved his right hand on the 3D controls and flicked his wrist forward towards his father. Not one second later, the app popped up on Franks Holotab. He placed his thumb on the home screen scanner, skipping the manual sign up for the app. Up popped a new page reading Terms and Conditions followed by an endless sea of legal jargon. Frank skimmed down to the bottom as quickly as his wrist could flick, finally reaching the bottom of the agreement. He quickly clicked on the box reading I accept the UEE Terms, Conditions, and Privacy Policy. A voice projected through the Holotab.

            “Please look at the camera and say your full name after the beep to verify your download.”

            “Frank William Odom” He stared awkwardly at tablet in his until it beeped in conformation. He sat the Holotab back down on the table, returning to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

                                                                   ---

            A pounding at the door woke Frank up in a panic the next morning. He hopped out of bed, tripping over his slippers as he slid into his robe. The knocking became louder and more frequent as he approached the door. Frank, as impatient as his visitors, fought with the lock before angrily swinging the door open ready to give a piece of his mind.

            “Good morning sir!”

He was interrupted by a young UEDU officer with a Holotab in hand. He glanced back at the soldiers behind him before holding the tablet up to Frank’s face. The speaker barked ‘Frank William Odom’.

            “Is that you sir?” The officer’s stare made Frank uneasy.

            “Yes, I’m Frank Odom. What is this about? Frank stammered. The young officer did not look up from his Holotab as he pressed on.

            “Earth Defense download Conditions: Section 24.8- In the event of an actual UCT invasion, I hereby relinquish ownership of my home to the UEDU for acquisition and upgrade in order to assist with defense tactics until the threat of attack has been officially rescinded by the UE Council.”

            Frank stepped forward to protest, but was pushed back by the small wave of troops that rushed into his home. He begged the officer to reconsider, but the man did not seem to hear him over the roar of the trench digger.

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