Story 189: Useful Injury

            (Friend 1 lies stretched out on his couch, holding his injured head, when his phone rings.  He stares at the caller ID for a few moments before answering with a stuffed-sounding nose)

            Friend 1: What’s up?

            Friend 2: “What’s up?”  That’s what I’m calling you for, man – Receiving said your face got all messed up, what happened?

            Friend 1: Nah, it wasn’t anything, I’ll be in tomorrow `cause they won’t give me any extra time off for this.  It’s too embarrassing to ask for anyway.

            Friend 2: Word is that one of the truck’s brakes failed and ran you over.

            Friend 1: What?!  Ow, no, that wasn’t it and I really don’t want to talk about it, OK?

            Friend 2: C’mon, I won’t tell.  You gonna be scarred for life, you think?

            Friend 1: No!  I don’t think I will be.  What if I will be?!

            Friend 2: Spill it.

          Friend 1: All right, I was moving some boxes on top of a fixture in the back when a really heavy one on top fell off and landed on my face and almost knocked me off the ladder.  And yes, it was my own fault for not checking how they were stacked first.  Happy?

            Friend 2: Not really; that’s kind of banal.  So what’s the damage?

            Friend 1: About 15 journals and 30 sets of stationery.

            Friend 2: Not in the box, on your face!

           Friend 1: Oh, a bunch of cuts, black eyes, and probably a broken nose.  Maybe I’ll get an X-ray if it still hurts; I dunno, I really don’t feel like it.

            Friend 2: Broken, huh?  So you look pretty awful right now, you’d say?

            Friend 1: Yeah, I’d say that: thanks for your concern.

           Friend 2: Mind doing me a favor and coming to the bar on Main with me for a few minutes?  I’ll drive you to the E.R. or wherever after to get your X-ray.

            Friend 1: I don’t know, you’re one of my shadier friends; what’s this about?

          Friend 2: No need for details, you don’t have to do a thing except sit there, plausible deniability, etc., whaddya say?

            Friend 1: I guess I could use a ride; I’m starting to feel dizzy –

            Friend 2: Be there in five.

            (At the bar on Main, Friend 2 sets up Friend 1 on a barstool)

            Friend 2: Right, just hang out here for a bit.  What drink don’t you like?

            Friend 1: Uh, um, well I hate whiskey –

            Friend 2: (Gives money to Bartender) One shot of whiskey for my friend here.

            Friend 1: I just said –

            Friend 2: (Takes the glass from Bartender and gives it to Friend 1) You don’t have to drink the whole thing, just sip it every so often.  Now, I’m going to be sitting with my… associate, right over there (Points to a fellow shady man at a nearby table), so when you hear me say “My friend over there,” take a quick sip, turn around to face us, and let nature take its course on your face.

            Friend 1: That’s gonna hurt and probably start bleeding again, and you said all I had to do was sit here.

            Friend 2: Right.  You don’t even have to get up.  (Slaps him on the shoulder and saunters over to sit at the shady table)

          Friend 1: (Sips the whiskey and painfully grimaces) Oh, I think some of my brains got knocked out of my ears.

            (Bartender comes over, wiping the counter)

            Bartender: So what’s your story?

           Friend 1: I’d like to say I was at a place like this on a Saturday night, some guy got in my face, I got in his, you know the rest, but it really was I got in a fight with a falling box and we both lost.

            Bartender: Yeah, the bar story’s better; the real one makes you sound clumsy.

            Friend 1: Aren’t you supposed to kiss up to me as long as I’m drinking here?

            Bartender: Why?  You didn’t pay for it.  (Continues on down the counter)

            Friend 1: (Mutters into the glass) At least fake it.

            Friend 2: (In the distance) My friend over there…

            (Friend 1 closes his eyes and leans on one hand)

            Friend 2: (Louder) My friend over there….

            (Friend 1’s eyes shoot open; he takes a quick sip, turns, and has a horrible look on his beaten face as he sees terror enter the eyes of the shady man sitting with Friend 2.  The latter unobtrusively gives Friend 1 a thumbs-up and turns back to the shady man; Friend 1 turns back to the counter as Bartender places a small glass filled with clear liquid and ice in front of him)

            Bartender: Here – on the house.

            Friend 1: Oh, thanks, what is it, vodka?

            Bartender: Tap water.  Hold it against your nose for 20 minutes; next time, ice that thing right away.  (Leaves)

            Friend 1: (Holds the glass gingerly against his nose) Helpful.

            (Friend 2 appears suddenly behind Friend 1, startling him into spilling some of the water)

            Friend 2: You did great!  Let’s go.

            Friend 1: But the nice lady gave me ice.

          Friend 2: (Drags him away from the counter) Why have ice when you can have prescription painkillers?

            Friend 1: You know, that’s a serious problem; epidemic, really –

            Friend 2: I completely understand.  (He pushes him out the door)

           (Two days later, Friend 1 is sitting on his couch again, now with bandages wrapped all around his head.  His phone rings; he sees the caller ID, sighs, and answers with an even stuffier-sounding nose)

            Friend 1: What?

            Friend 2: Hey, just checking in – you still look hideous?

            Friend 1: Of course I do, I don’t want to leave the house for a month, what do you want?

          Friend 2: Good, since you’re free right now, could you meet up with me in Vegas for a few hours?

            Friend 1: What?!!

           Friend 2: Don’t worry, I’ve got it all worked out, I just need your driver’s license number for the plane ticket.

            Friend 1: Good-bye!

            Friend 2: No, not the license plate, the license –

            (Friend 1 disconnects the call; Friend 2 calls him back)

            Friend 1: What.

            Friend 2: We got disconnected back there; as I was saying, you wouldn’t have to do a thing –

            Friend 1: Not doing anything!

          Friend 2: Fine, forget Vegas.  Could I pick you up in a few minutes so we can visit my brother?  He still owes me some money.

            Friend 1: No, no, no!  Ow, ow, ow.  Don’t call me ever again or I’ll visit you!

            Friend 2: There’s no need to get testy.  You wouldn’t have to do a thing!

            Friend 1: I definitely won’t now.

           Friend 2: Don’t hang up; where am I going to find another face like yours so conveniently at my disposal?!

            Friend 1: I’m sure you could arrange something for yourself.  (Disconnects and turns off his phone, lying back down on the couch)

            Friend 2: Of course!  Why haven’t I thought of that earlier?  I should just have someone beat me up so everyone then would be afraid of me!  I wouldn’t even have to do a thing!

Story 188: When Living in a Horror Movie, Don’t Turn Around

[This is from recently watching The Cabin in the Woods and Alien: Covenant, so it is rated a soft R]

            Newbie suddenly found herself running down a dark alley: she had no idea how she got there or even who she was running from.  Another figure stepped out of doorway in front of her and she crashed into it; she gasped in the shock, noticed that the figure was as young and attractive as herself, and was about to start running again when it stopped her with:

            “You didn’t scream or fall down.  Good.  You just might make it here.”

            “‘Here’?”  Her curiosity overrode her impulse to keep running forever.  “Where is ‘here’?  I was in the middle of teatime with Lord and Lady Bassett-Stokesworth when I was plopped down in this alley – running from an unknown danger – wearing these strange clothes – and speaking with a completely different accent!”

            “Yes, these crossovers happen occasionally, can’t be helped.  Shall we?”  He gestured to the other end of the alley where the main street and temporary safety awaited.  “I don’t think our menace will wait forever before catching us up – oh, there he is!”  He looked towards a figure standing at the end of the alley around where Newbie had arrived, but he turned her away from looking there.  “No, best you don’t see.  Off we go!”  They ran to the street and navigated through the crowds.

            “What’s going on?”  Newbie tried a different approach.  “Who was that?  Who are you?  Who am I?!”

            He spoke without looking at her, concentrating both on their route and on appearing valiant.  “You are the possible Lone Survivor – I may be, too, if I play my cards right – and that guy was our Shadowy Menace.  You can call me Hero.”

            “Is that actually your name?”

            He looked squirrelly.  “No, it’s really Danforth.  Not even Daniel – how could my parents do that to me?!”  She stared at him as they walked.  “All you need to know is that you have to survive, no matter what!”

            She almost crashed into a hot dog cart – still operating at approximately 11:30 at night – as she continued to stare at him and asked: “That’s very thoughtful of you, but why me in particular?”

            “Somebody has to.”

            “Oh.  Then what about all these people around us?”

            “That clueless rabble!  They don’t count!”

            “Then who does?”

          “I do!”  He stopped short, facing her to underscore his passion on the subject.  “All of my friends, my best friends in the whole world and I were randomly stalked by this guy, for no other reason than we know how to party and he doesn’t, and now they’re all gone and I’m the only one left!  And now also you.  Welcome!”

            “But I don’t want to be randomly stalked!  And why would he stalk me – if you’re the only one left from your crew, he wouldn’t know me from Eve!”

            “Yeah, well, he likes to save the girls for last, and from what I can tell he miscounted his kills and ran out.  So you got pulled in.  Sorry?”

            “Oooh, that’s not fair, I’m supposed to be falling in love with the Duke of Dorsetshirebury right now!”

            “You could fall in love with me, if you like.”

            “And what good would that do?!”  He hung his head in shame.  “That’s what I thought.”

            He looked up sharply over her head to see behind her.  “Oh no – he’s found us.”

            “Well of course he’s found us, we haven’t exactly been ninjas in our escape!”  She started to turn to look back and he grabbed her shoulders.

            “No!  Whatever you do, do not look at him!  Once you realize that he’s behind you and you turn to confirm it, you’re toast.”

            “Who is he, Medusa?”

            “No, he just needs you to acknowledge his presence before he kills you.  Deny him that and you’ll be able to get away.”

            “What about you?  You’ve stared at him about 50 times already and I’ve only just met you!”

            He now stared at her intently.  “It’s too late for me.  I’ll hold him off; save yourself!”

            She impatiently brushed off his hands that still were on her shoulders.  “Why don’t you just call the police and have them arrest this guy?  He’s probably possessing all sorts of weapons, so they’d have no problem believing you.”

            He looked at her sadly.  “That never works.”

            “How do you know – have you tried it?”

            “That never works!”  He wailed.  “Now run – he’s standing literally right behind you!”

            “Wait a minute – ” she started to turn.

            “Don’t look!”  He screamed.

            She turned back.  “Fine, I won’t look.  Buy why is no one else doing anything about this scary person supposedly standing right behind me all threatening?”

            “They can’t!  They’re the powerless world that is unable to save us!  We have only ourselves!  So run, set up a convoluted death trap, and destroy him once and for all!”

            With that suggestion, Danforth “Hero” Deadbody pushed past Newbie and launched himself at Shadowy Menace.  Newbie flinched as she heard the screams, slashing metal, and squishing sounds behind her.  The surrounding crowds continued about their business, and she slowly began walking away from the crime scene.

            Farther down the street she began to run, taking it all the way out of town.  In the creepy countryside she found a foreboding abandoned barn, where she arranged sharp farming tools, a trap door, and bales of hay to lie in wait for the guest who she knew would arrive shortly.  She hid in the loft, holding a scythe and musing to herself.

            “Should my triumphant phrase when he gets his comeuppance be ‘Never mess with a farm girl!’?  I technically live on one, but the tenants are the ones who do the actual farming – ”

            Shadowy Menace’s noiseless entrance interrupted her internal debate; she burrowed herself some more into the hay as she heard the farming tools, trap door, and bales of hay all fail spectacularly in their attempts to dismember, fell, and/or crush their target.  She waited patiently as she heard him climb slowly up the ladder to the loft and stand silently behind where he sensed she was encased in hay.  He brought his axe down onto the pile in victory; the pile naturally was empty and Newbie lopped off Shadowy Menace’s head with the scythe.  It was doubly impressive since she was able to do it backwards.

            As he fell, she crowed to the barn wall: “Never mess with a farm-owning girl!  No, that’s not right either, my father is the one who owns the farm – ”

            “You made it!”  Hero-Dan appeared at the barn entrance – he was a bit messed up.

           “I made it?  What about you?”  Newbie said as she climbed down the ladder.  “How could you survive all that I heard him do to you?”

            “Well, it’s quite a story,” he started, his eyes darting furtively once behind her.

            “He’s standing right behind me again, isn’t he,” she said.

            Dan nodded, with sadistically crazy eyes.

            “Head and all?”

            He nodded again, biting his lip in glee.

           “Well, Danforth,” his jaw dropped open in shock, “thanks for all the tips, you were a big help.”

        She dispatched him with the scythe, then took care of the Shadowy Menace once again backwards, this time finishing off the latter more than completely and burning the remains.  Afterwards, she propped on foot onto the pile of ashes, placed the handle of the scythe onto the floor, placed her other hand on her waist, and declared:   “Face it, boys – I’ve always been a fast learner.  Yes, that was perfect!”  She laughed hysterically, then saw the mess all around her and realized that she still was stuck in the wrong genre.

            “Now what?”