Story 505: Too Busy to Live in a Horror Movie

(In a suburban house, Mom is on the phone while grabbing laundry from the dryer, kicking toys on the floor out of the way, wiping down random surfaces, etc.  She stops suddenly after rounding a corner to the living room and seeing the couch that was against a side wall now in the center with armchairs piled onto it, topped by the television set)

Mom: (Still on the phone, letting the laundry basket fall to the floor) You know, I’ve just about had it with them rearranging the furniture all the time.  The midnight screaming is one thing – my youngest had colic for six months so, really, please – but this!  (Gestures to the pile, then props the phone against one ear while hauling furniture back to their original positions) No, they think it’s funny to play Tower of Babel so then I have to clean up after them.  I already have three children, thank you!  (Uses a foot to kick the couch back against the wall) Unbelievable; I caught them the other night starting to drip what looked like blood but I suspect was syrup down the bathroom walls – which I had just deep-cleaned literally that same day, mind you – so you can bet I put a quick stop to that.... Sprayed the room with bleach until they knocked it off, what else?  (A low moaning builds up from deep inside the fireplace; Mom watches as gusts of air start shifting the logs inside) Hold on a minute – they’re up to some new garbage now.  (A sudden BANG! bursts open the flue, sending all sorts of debris flying out onto the living room floor as a disembodied presence swoops out of the fireplace and into Mom’s face)

Ghost: WOOOOOOOOO – !

Mom: (Lowers the phone to address Ghost) Well, that’s just great – would you look at all the dirt and insect bodies you strewed all over the place?!  Lucky for you I don’t even bother cleaning this floor more than once a year, else I’d really let you have it!

Ghost: WOOOOOO – huh?

Mom: (Walks through Ghost to lean into the fireplace and feel around inside) Oh, perfect, perfect!  (Comes out again, holding a handle) As if everything else wasn’t enough, now the flue is broken!  And the chimney cleaners were just here last week!  So fixing this is another expense we don’t need and time I don’t have to wait around for them to come back, and meanwhile all sorts of wildlife riffraff are gonna make their way in here unless I figure out how to block off everything because the flue is broken!  (Throws the handle through Ghost, who disappears) Yeah, that’s right, make a mess and evaporate!  (Raises the phone back up again) Sorry about that – got another headache added to my growing list.  I’ll let you go, then – what?  Oh yeah, I’ll see you there tomorrow morning around 10; sewer bills are paid at the Utility Department window, right?... I know there’s a late fee this time!

(At a soccer field, a dozen kids pile into Mom’s car; Mom then floors it to the speed limit)

Mom: (Shouting over the excited din of juvenile chatter) No dilly-dallying tonight, children: as soon as I pull up to your house, get yourself right on out of here because I’ve got a long night of cleaning ahead.

Carpool Child 1: You guys still have the ghosts hanging around trashing the place?

Child 1: Yes!  And it’s soooooo embarrassing!

Mom: “Embarrassing” is not the word for this situation.

Carpool Child 2: I think it sounds so cool – I wish our house was haunted like yours.

Mom: You’re welcome to mop up the muddy footprints and remake the beds 10 times a day and sweep up every broken thing on top of the mess this crew – (Thumbs back to Child 1 and Child 2 in the rear seats) already make on a daily basis!

Child 2: Hey!  But you love us!

Mom: Not when you leave tissues in your pockets for the laundry, I don’t!

Carpool Child 2: Yeah, never mind, I think I’ll pass on all that.

Mom: Wise move.

(At the kitchen table, Mom, Dad, and Child 1, Child 2, and Child 3 try to eat dinner as plates and glasses constantly shift through the air and banging noises in both the basement and the attic occasionally drown them out)

Mom: Now, I don’t want anyone to try using this as an excuse to skip your vegetables: I got wise to that the second time you pulled it and now I’m keeping inventory of everyone’s plates.

Child 1-3: Argggghhhhh…..

Dad: (Snatching a piece of chicken from a passing plate while reading from a large book propped open on a stand perched on the table) Hey everyone, I think from what this thing’s saying we’ve got at least seven poltergeists and other spirits in our home, but it could possibly be as many as 10 or even 1,000.

Mom: Sounds about right.  (Snaps a celery stick in half and starts chomping on it)

Child 3: (To Dad) If one of them dumps me out of bed again tonight, can I call out sick from school and play video games to recover?

Dad: If you’re recovered enough to play video games, you’re going to school.

Child 3: Worth a shot.

Mom: (To Dad) I’ll be out most of the day tomorrow paying bills and uprooting the dead tree, so I just know that these… (Briefly glances around at the children) nuisances will probably take the opportunity to bring the house down – are you sure this didn’t stem from that summoning chant you did at the office party?  Because if it did, you’ll be the first one I’m throwing to them when we’re temporarily homeless.

Dad: (Chuckles) No, I’m pretty certain the party just brought along that one little guy, and he was fine with my lock of hair for his bald head and went on his merry way.  So, the current crew’s presence appears to be… (Scans several pages of the book) unrelated.

(Mom glares at the children)

Child 1-3: Wasn’t us!

Mom: Just checking.  (The house trembles with a loud crash) What nowwwwwww!!! (Everyone jumps up from the table and runs to the living room to see furniture being piled up into a tower again; Ghost giggles while hoisting the television set to the top) HEY!  (Mom points at Ghost, who freezes) You put that back where you found it right now!  (Ghost sheepishly sets the television back onto the entertainment center) And the rest!  (Ghost, grumbling, starts putting the rest of the furniture back in their places as the family returns to the kitchen table; they resume eating and drinking from the flying plates and glasses as the banging continues upstairs and downstairs)

Dad: (Had started reading the book again) It looks like there’re a few passages I can recite to kick them all out of here at once, buuuuuut we have to wait until the next full moon in…. (Check cell phone) three weeks.

Mom: Three weeks?!  The house’ll be destroyed by then!

Child 1-3: Waaaahhhh!!!

Mom: Never mind, never mind – (Takes a deep breath) you and I will take shifts every night for the next three weeks and constantly run interference, that’s all.

Dad: We probably don’t have to go that far; maybe we can get up a little earlier and hope for the best –

Mom: The mortgage is still being paid off.

Dad: I’ll take first watch.

Mom: (Throws a fork at the floating napkin holder, pinning it to the floor) Not for nothing, I wish they’d targeted someone with nothing to do and haunt them instead – I mean really, who has time for this rubbish?!

Story 235: Accidentally Helping the Environment

            She woke up to see the hotel alarm clock was exactly half an hour after the time the alarm was supposed to have gone off.

            “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….” was her siren call as she sprang out of bed, into some clothes and shoes over her pajamas, and down the hall with her lone bag, dropping a fiver for the housekeeper on the way out.

            “…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….” she continued down four flights of stairs, through the lobby as she tossed her room key in the general direction of the concierge desk, through the revolving door, and onto the bus idling right outside.

            “…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa – ” she was cut off as she ran all the way to the back of the full bus and crashed into the rear seats.  She took a deep breath, saw everyone staring at her, and chose to exhale instead of finishing her sentence.

            The bus immediately closed the doors and drove off, so she settled down into her seat and took a brief nap to recover from her morning workout.  She woke up hungry when the bus lurched to a stop; she looked out the window and confusedly stared at a welcoming beach.  Everyone else filed out, but she searched through her bag for her tour group itinerary to double-check: she could have sworn that day was set for the trip to the human anatomy museum –

            “Everybody out!” someone in authority proclaimed.  Must have changed tour guides at the hotel, she thought as she brought up the rear of the disembarkees.

            She still fumbled through her bag as she shuffled behind the group; she realized she also must have missed when they were distributing the matching hats and T-shirts, because she was the only one dressed in civvies.

            A clipboard-wielding volunteer approached her: “Hi!  You’re with these guys?”

            “Uh, yeah, I – ” fumble, fumble, fumble, “I, uh, I – ”

            “You can just hop on a group of three; here’s some gloves – ” gloves were handed to her – “don’t walk on the dunes, and don’t touch any syringes!”

            “What?”

            “Thank you for what you’re doing!”  And they moved on.

            She stared at the gloves.  Was there an archaeological dig scheduled on this trip?  Her missing itinerary would need to explain itself later.

            She followed the T-shirts and found a random group of three; she cursed herself for never remembering the names of anyone she met unless they had been repeated to her at least four times, and faces were a lost cause.  She smiled at each and eagerly followed them on to their beach adventure....

            About two minutes in, it became apparent that this was the most disgusting beach that ever existed on a supposedly fun-filled getaway: among the pounds of broken beer bottles, cigarette butts, candy wrappers, busted balloons, and dog poop bags, she felt she could never face a beach again without seeing it as one giant misplaced garbage can.

            “I found another soda can tab!”

            “Got it!”

            She saw the members of her group and all the others from her bus were actually picking up the pieces of trash they were forced to encounter, and then taking notes on a huge card – had their tour group been recruited by the local Parks Department to do their job for them as part of the admission fee?!

            Not wanting to be the only one setting up her umbrella, mat, and boombox while everyone else was working wholeheartedly on their unexciting scavenger hunt, she slowly pulled on the gloves, set aside her bag, and began scooping up all the gross fishing lures and plastic cutlery she saw within a two-foot radius, which was a lot.

            “Wait!  How many were there?”  One of her group was pointing at what she had just dumped in a trash bag that they were dragging around on their excursion.

            “What?  I dunno, five maybe?”  What difference did it make?  One was too many, in her opinion, and they apparently were surrounded by millions.

            The group member wrote notes on the card.  “Uh-huh, and were they all glass?”

            “Uh, no, I think there was a bit of string stuck in there too, yuck.”

            “Plastic or cloth?”

            “The blazes I know!”

            The recorder scrambled through the scummy trash bag, pulled out the string, and nodded.  “Plastic.  And it actually goes in this garbage bag – ” they held up a black bag – “`cause the white one’s for recycling.”

            “…OK.  So how long do we have to keep doing this?”

            “About four hours.”

            Her eyes widened and veins popped out as her companion was called away to take note of some other piece of filth.  She grabbed the arm of the remaining group member: “When’s the trip?”

            She got a blank stare: “This is the trip.”

            She released the arm and made a note to self that she had to have a serious discussion with her travel agent as soon as she could safely escape her escorts.

            “Wow, a shotgun shell!”

            “That’s actually on the list!”

            She wandered with them as they gleefully scooped up water bottles, shattered mugs, and someone’s lost friendship bracelet; to appear busy, she took her time planting a biohazard flag next to a diaper that brazenly crossed their path.  Rounding a dune, she spotted the mother lode:

            “Hey guys!”  Her group turned to her as she hoisted an anchor above her head.  “Should this go in trash or recycling?”

            The recorder blinked.  “I think we’ll put a flag next to it for pickup later.”

            “Suit yourself!”  She let it crash back to the sand.

            At the four-hour mark, they all headed back to the parking lot with their abominable treasures and scientific catalog of waste, exhausted yet joyful with the good deeds they had done that day.

            “I feel that I am a better person because of all this,” she half-said to herself as she settled in her comfy seat at the back of the bus.  “The world is now a cleaner place because of me, and the fish and birds can swim and fly free of the detritus that would have severely hindered their lifestyles, all because I was there to make things right with Mother Nature.  The world will now live, and it’s all thanks to me.”

            “All right, folks,” the person in authority addressed them from the front of the bus.  “Rest up as much as you can, `cause we’re hitting the other two beaches before dinner.”

            “WHAT?!”