Demons and Other Inconveniences

DEMONS AND OTHER INCONVENIENCES

  A series of scaries written by Dan Dillard

  ..ooOOoo..

  For mom,

  I think she would have loved this.

  And for my wife, Stephanie, whose nightmares wake us both.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS AND NOTES:

  This book has been heavily revised because the first time I “published” it, I was impatient and foolish and even at 40+ years old, I haven’t learned to only put my best work up for review. I feel certain there are mistakes left behind, and those are my fault, but I am learning, and I hope I never stop.

  Thanks go to everyone in my family, and to the others who helped, laughed, and especially to those who said I couldn’t do it. You know who you are. And thank you to all the nightmares, shared or personal, all the odd and wonderful characters I have met, all the books from people with names like Bradbury, King, and Matheson and some much lesser known…films from those with names like Carpenter, Craven, and Friedkin. To all the newer names who are carrying on the tradition… There are countless others. I hope I do them all proud.

  Copyright © 2010, 2016 by Daniel P. Dillard

  ISBN: 978-1-4523-8705-5

  License notes:

  The List of Scaries

  Rolling Meadows

  Pig Man

  Confessions

  The Trash Menagerie

  Infestation of the Third Kind

  indiviDUALITY

  Anticipation

  Geometry

  Ingrate

  Amber Alert

  My Mind’s Eye

  The Wrong Place

  Never Judge a Book

  The Frank Diary of Anne

  Unlucky in Death

  Rotten Luck

  The Demon of Walker’s Woods

  ..ooOOoo..

  IT’S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU

  I speak to your children at night while they sleep.

  The scars that I leave can’t be seen, but they’re deep.

  Terrible visions comprise my attack.

  I paint them in shades, both crimson and black.

  They scream in their dreams seeking shelter and warmth.

  I tear off the roof, raining down in a swarm.

  Shivers are what I provide, to be clear.

  Disease, discomfort, displeasure and fear.

  I lurk in the shadows and wait for their sigh.

  It releases their tension, their longing to cry.

  Boiling and swirling I hide underneath,

  In an instant I face them, sharp claws and fanged teeth.

  The shrieks give me pleasure and feed my dark heart.

  My frightening methods take patience and art.

  My success will be measured in blood, sweat and tears.

  I’ve taken great pride in my thousands of years.

  A figment of sorts, now your safety is fleeting,

  My powers grow stronger with each nightly meeting.

  I’ll show you true horror and fill you with lies.

  Friends call me Nightmare. Now please, close your eyes.

  ..ooOOoo..

  ROLLING MEADOWS

  THE FOLLOWING is true.

  Mostly true. Well, if you drive down a certain highway in southeastern North Carolina, you will find a nursing home plopped down right next to a travel agency…and nothing else in either direction for miles. Weird? Not in the south.

  The rest is pure speculation, but it might be true. It might just be close enough.

  12:00pm Monday.

  ROLLING MEADOWS, it says on the sign. You may as well call it A Great Place to Die and just be done with it. I should disown this sorry, ungrateful shit for planting me here. That’s what he’s doing, planting. That’s what you do with vegetables, right? But I ain’t a vegetable yet. I can still kick his ass if I need to, but it wouldn’t do any good. He’d still be an ungrateful shit, but he’d be an ungrateful shit with a sore ass.

  The drive out was boring and tedious, but at least it was long. There were two whole lanes of traffic to watch, all of it hugged by trees that went on for miles it seemed. We pulled in to park and the first thing I saw was the other wooden sign. The one with the palm tree and big orange sun carved into the corner underneath that stupid name. Plane and Simple Travel.

  I hoped that was where we were going. I’d have spent my life savings to ship my wrinkled ass to Tahiti or Maui. One of those places where I could die an old drunk with a grin on my face, a cocktail in one hand and some bikini-clad jailbait in the other. My heart would give out before my funds, but that’s not to be the case. No, we’re next door at the heart attack hotel where my ungrateful shit of a son will leave me as he proclaims, ‘it’s for the best, Pop.’

  Rolling Meadows. Shit.

  Who puts a travel agency next to the Alzheimer Estates anyway? It’s a sick joke if you ask me. The sickest joke I can think of. Bastards. Maybe the Plane and Simple folks will book me a trip to the graveyard so I don’t have to hang out too long. Then we can call this a very annoying layover. Like a stop in Indiana or maybe Wisconsin.

  As they shuffle me through the front double doors to the center of the building, I smell it. This place stinks like sour breath, institutional food and piss. Welcome home, Jimmy.

  The shit walks to the reception desk which is guarded by a flabby woman wearing an ugly set of scrubs. They’re covered with ducks or some such nonsense. They start with the usual pleasantries which will no doubt end with my incarceration.

  “Mr.?” she says looking at my son. She draws the word out, holding the errr as if it might pull the answer out of his mouth.

  Come to think of it, he isn’t ungrateful. In fact, I’m sure he’s very grateful. Grateful to be unloading the old man on this shithole, grateful I’ll be swimming in a sea of blue hair and false teeth. I’ll be doing fucking crafts for fun and starting a betting pool over who dies next. I’d bet they play poker and ante with butterscotch pudding cups. I think I’ll make him a nice ashtray out of dried turds. It’ll look nice on his desk at the office.

  Flabby is still holding the Misterrrrrr.

  “Aldridge. James Aldridge. I am his son, Bill. We have an appointment at 12:15,” he answers.

  Chubby duck lady peers over her glasses at a clipboard and smiles again. Her name plate says Lucy, but I prefer Chubby Duck Lady.

  “You sure do. Right here it is.”

  She looks back up at him, never me. I guess since I have no say in this matter, I have no say in this matter.

  “If you’d follow me into the parlor, I can get you started on paperwork and then the administrator, Dr. Williams, will be by to introduce herself.”

  Great. First I give up my house. Now, he drives me out to the middle of nowhere just like a stray dog nobody wants, and to top that—I’ve got to wait around in the parlor. Who the hell has a parlor anymore? Funeral homes, that’s who. And what’s the difference. Nothin’ but a bunch or corpses in here waiting around to get buried. Why couldn’t it be a sports bar? I could have a cold beer and annoy a busty cocktail waitress or something. I’m a breast man.

  I know what that paper he’s filling out says. It’s asking for me to surrender my dignity and he’s going to hand it to them with a grin on his face.

  Asshole.

  Maybe if I shit myself they’ll put me in the special wing with the crazies and the vegetables. I can take drugs and get sponge baths from supple young nurses until I pass away. One lousy fall down the front steps and an old man is doomed to the linger-longer.

  Hold the phone, who is this?

  She’s tall, with her brown hair tied into a messy bun and she has her smart-glasses on. I love the brainy ones. Her name tag says ‘Williams’ if my eyes don’t deceiv
e and is pinned to a silky blue blouse which to my utter joy is undone one button too far. Must be the boss-lady.

  “Hello all! I’m Dr. Williams. You must be the Aldridges. How can I help you today?”

  “I could use a prostrate exam if you don’t mind. It’s a little chilly, but if it’s gotta be here, it’s gotta…”

  “Dad!”

  Bill is such a pussy. I’m just trying to break the ice here is all. I’ve got to live with these people.

  “It’s quite all right,” Dr. Williams says to him, “Spirited, aren’t we Mr. Aldridge?” to me.

  She doesn’t even hint at a smile. I think she wants me. Who wouldn’t? There’s nothin’ sexier than a pissed off septuagenarian.

  “I can be if you like. Not as good as I once was, but as good once as I ever was.”

  I wink at her. Her lip curls up into the slightest of smiles, and just as I’d hoped, my dick curls right along with it. As good once as it ever was. Joyous, I wink at Bill. He is appalled. It looks good on him.

  “Dad!”

  “Just like to see that hair down around those shoulders,” I say.

  “Dad!” he shrieks again. Pussy.

  Well, we’ve established he knows who I am. Now if he’d just show some respect and take me home.

  “Its fine,” she says to him.

  “Maybe, Mr. Aldridge, if you pay attention and behave, I’ll wear my hair down one day.”

  Now I get it. She’s playing me, a tease who likes to rev the old man’s engine just to watch me squirm. Either way this is the closest I’ve been to sex in better than ten years.

  The doctor continues, “You gentlemen can call me Jan.”

  She holds out her hand and I shake it gladly. Long thin fingers, well manicured nails and no wedding band. I might could live here after all. I introduce us since he is busy gawking at her cleavage. Can’t knock him for that.

  “Call me Jimmy. This is my son, Bill. We aren’t speaking right now. You can tell him I said ‘Go to hell’.”

  I won’t talk to that prick. These dizzy spells won’t make me forget he’s putting me here to die. It’s just as well. I couldn’t live with him or his prude wife. She has a huge ass and a constant look of disapproval on her face.

  Jan smiles and looks at Bill. “I’m sure he gets the message. Shall we take the tour? The rest of this paperwork can wait.”

  I nod and notice Bill is taking another look at her breasts. Dumbass. If I taught him anything, it was ‘don’t get caught staring’. If I noticed, surely she did. I hope she doesn’t think he gets his stupidity from me. That definitely comes from his mother’s side. She was a brilliant angel, God rest her—eight years she’s been gone—but the men in that family? Dense as forged steel.

  “Which side is the produce on?” I ask.

  That one got her. She turns, ready to scold me, and I’m just glad she gets the joke. That means we have similar senses of humor, even if she plays offended. Plus, I could use a good spanking.

  “They are people, Mr. Aldridge. They may be worse off than you are physically, but most of them are mentally superior. Of that I’m certain.”

  Touché. Smart. Witty. Sexy. If I was two years younger. “Right, right, people. I know. I would just prefer to stay with folks who can still rock n’ roll if you know what I mean?”

  Her stern look softens a little and that wry smile is back. “I understand. It does take some getting used to, but rest assured, you will be living on the rockin’ side of the house. At least for now.”

  This sounds like sarcasm. Normally, I like sarcasm. I’m also smart enough to know this tour may be the longest amount of time I’ll ever spend with the luscious Dr. Jan. I watch her hind end wave as she walks. I miss most of what she says as my mind wanders in and out, in and out, in and out, but I get her drift.

  The nickel tour wanders through a building that is shaped like a capital E. The bottom of the E being the produce department , and the place I will avoid like a fat girl at the prom. The center line of that E is where the entrance and public areas are located and the top line is for those of us who are here because our kids suck. There is a courtyard where the residents (I say convicts) can get some fresh air, away from the stink, and a dining room which resembles a prison mess hall or a high school cafeteria only with none of the joy or raging hormones. I personally can’t wait to watch them spoon feed the cabbages.

  “And this, Mr. Aldridge...”

  “Jimmy,” I interrupt.

  I despise ‘mister’. Sounds formal. I’m not fuckin’ formal.

  “Okay, Jimmy. This will be your room. You’ll be alone here for now, but roommates are sometimes a necessity. My advice is to find someone here you’re compatible with and pair up. We’re quite accommodating in that regard.”

  Accommodating. That is a word I enjoy associating with the lady doctor. As I’m dreaming of her in skimpy lingerie, my miserable son chimes in with a laugh.

  “Compatible with him?” he says.

  She gives him eyes for the interruption and he clams up like a scolded child. Sheesh.

  “As I was saying, that might be somewhat easier than having a stranger assigned to you.”

  “Is there a woman like you I could shack up with?”

  Silence, but I can feel my son’s eyes growing wide and bulging. Her face is stone.

  “I’ll take my chances,” I say.

  Grinning, I turn to show her my good side. Her smile is now clinical and courtesy, as if I’d just asked her on what aisle I might find the toilet paper. Maybe I should throttle back on the charm.

  “Okay then, I’ll leave you two alone so you can settle in. It was interesting to meet you, Jimmy. Bill, we’ll be in touch.”

  With that she is gone, leaving me alone with him.

  “Dad, it’s not so bad here. I think you’ll be just fine.”

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “I’m trying to help. I don’t know what else to do for you. We don’t have room at the house and I want you to be comfortable. I’m afraid of what might happen…”

  He’s trying to smooth things once again and I am staring at the wallpaper, still thinking about Jan in that lingerie. Leather and studs. She’s dirty. I can tell.

  “This is as good a place to die as any,” I say.

  “Dad…”

  “Just get my bags and let’s get on with it.”

  I fan him out the door and sit down on the bed. He doesn’t argue. The bed, if you can call it that, is lumpy and has rails like a hospital gurney. I guess that’s so when I can’t make it on my own, they can tube me up and roll me straight to the produce stand. Sitting on the bed, I get a look at my present and future surroundings. My home sweet home.

  Ugly wallpaper with flowers. This ain’t no grown man’s room. If there’s a bright side, it is the following: There’s cable, my own shitter, and I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.

  Bill returns, drops my bags and tries to hug me. I bob and weave like Ali or Holyfield or, hell, who even watches boxing anymore?

  It’s awkward and silent for a moment and then he leaves. Once I’m sure he’s gone, I dig a paperback from my luggage and lie back. The pillow is nice, even if the bed is lumpy, and the Cussler western I’m reading plus the warm sun on my face put me right to sleep.