Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Story 209: Baby Doll, the Demon, and Me



(Based on a recent dream rather than a true story)

            So I had it coming: I had been nagging my friends for months that this Halloween, I wanted to be really scared.  No chainless chainsaws, no battery-operated torture chambers, no latex severed heads – I wanted actual fear.  Without actual peril, of course; I’m not completely stupid.
            To shut me up, they found a place advertised as the scariest haunted house in the whole world, which was saying something: the whole country, I could see them getting away with that claim, but the whole world?  Some might have words about that.
            We flew out to where the house was because we’re nerds, and on Halloween night we joined another group for our scheduled tour.  The place looked like the Winchester Mystery House from the outside – I saw a few doors-to-nowhere peeking out at us – and the thrills and chills made their first tentative appearance.  I sent them back inside for the moment, reserving judgement until the main event.
            It turned out the whole thing would be a self-guided tour: one teenaged employee looking resentful at missing out on the past-curfew tricks-or-treats handed us all maps, told us we were on camera and would be billed for any property damage, and emphasized the importance of us staying together and not wandering off from the rest of the group: “For if you stray, the demon in the house will take you, bwa-ha-ha.  Any questions?”
            “Yeah, is there a bathroom?”  Someone not-one-of-my­-friends asked.
          “Sure.”  The teen guided her to a door off the main entrance, which opened to a modern-looking hallway – muffled rock music could be heard from one of the rooms off of it.  “Second door on the left – I just cleaned it.”  The teen turned back to the rest of us.  “You all can go ahead, you know.”
            We were simultaneously befuddled.  “But you just said we shouldn’t split up,” one of my friends said.
            The teen suppressed a sigh: “There’s another group coming in at 9, guys.  I’ll make sure she finds you.”  Pressing a button that killed most of the lights and set all the floorboards creaking, chains rattling, and disembodied voices moaning, the teen slumped into a chair that faced a monitor showing 12 camera feeds: we took that as our cue to get going.
            My friends and I went up to the second floor, having nothing invested in waiting for a stranger to catch up like the rest of them did, and we giggled our way through the darkened rooms.  I must say, the attention to detail was amazing: I could almost smell the blood splattered on the walls, and once or twice we huddled together when we heard heavy footsteps approaching us from everywhere.  The first time it was the rest of the group stumbling their way around the place, but the second time we had no idea what.  Every so often a random costumed teenager would be waiting for us in a room, suddenly standing up from a chair or acting all possessed on a king-sized bed; we obligingly screamed every time.  I really liked reading the backstories of the horrors that were proudly on display in each room – such imaginations!
            And that was when I became separated from the group.
          I knew they had gone on ahead because they don’t appreciate hard work put into things as much as I do, so I let them go on to the next room while I finished reading about the governess axing the master of the house for shorting her on her annual bonus, after watching an in-person demonstration of the event, and I then went to the next room in the order we had been seeing them.  Except my friends weren’t there.  Or in any of the rooms down the hall.
            I didn’t want to panic, but I was in a strange dark house with lots of strangers, some of whom may want to kill me, so I used the modern lifeline of calling my friends’ phones: they all went to voicemail, so I was back in the pre-millennium mode of finding people when you’re lost.  I had two choices: go back downstairs to the main entrance to wait for them in safety with the teenage Big Brother and miss out on approximately $30 worth of the remainder of the tour, or go on to the next floor and hope that both they were up there and that I wouldn’t be murdered.  In the spirit of the season, I chose that option; after all, how far could they have gone in less than five minutes?
          The first thing I (barely) saw on that floor was a table in the hallway that had a very old-fashioned-looking doll propped up on it.  I was admiring the craftsmanship and wondering how much it was worth when it said:
            “Please don’t let the demon take me.”
            Fear-laughing, I said back: “Wow, that was good.”
            “I mean it: the prophecy states that I will be taken by the demon soon.  Please don’t let it take me.”
            This was really good; was it controlled by wi-fi?  “OK doll, am I supposed to hide you from the demon, or take you home with me for the reasonable price of $49.99?”
            “Please carry me back to my room upstairs,” the doll said – was it the teenager downstairs doing the voice?  I’d have to ask later – “but the prophecy states that the demon will take me before I get there.”
            “OK.”  I wasn’t sure where this was going.  “Should we even bother then, doll?”
            “Baby Doll.”
            “Yes, you’re a baby-looking doll.”
            “No, I’m a living doll.”
            “A doll that – lives?”
            “Yes.  I am Baby Doll.”
            Kind of creepy.  “OK Baby Doll, I’ll take you up to your room, but I’d better not get charged for supposedly damaging a prop.”  I picked it up – the tiny body felt spookily soft as I held it in one hand, slightly away from my body, so I could always drop it and run.
            “I am not a prop – I am a living doll!”
            “Whatever you say, Baby Doll.”
            I found the next set of stairs to the last floor, and as I climbed Baby Doll got more and more agitated, if that was even physically possible for a puppet: “Ooh, the demon surely will take me now!”
            “No it won’t, Baby Doll, I’ve got you.”
            “It’s not safe here!  I will be taken!”
            Boy, this place sure went all out.  “Which one’s your room?”
            “At the end of the hall.”
            “Of course it is.”
            “The demon is coming!  I know it will take me!”
           “Don’t worry, Baby Doll, I’ve got you.”  Don’t worry?  What would I do if there was an actual demon here after all?!  Choke, that’s what.
            “I won’t make it!”
            “It’s OK, Baby Doll, I’ve got you.”
            “The demon is almost here!”
            “It won’t get you, Baby Doll!”
            “Any moment now!”
            “I’ve got you, Baby Doll, don’t worry – ” a demon voice came out of  my mouth as I said “I’VE GOT YOU.”
            I stood in the hallway in front of the bedroom door and stared at my empty hands for a few seconds.  I then spun around a few times thinking I would find something, then saw on my watch that I had lost five minutes.  There was only one logical explanation.
            “Son of a gun, the demon possessed me!  How am I going to explain this to Baby Doll?!”  Where would demon-possessed me have put Baby Doll, anyway?  I started opening all the doors and peeking in the rooms.  “Oh Baby Doll, you know it wasn’t really me who spirited you away somewhere, right?”
            My reflection with demon eyes was waiting for me as I passed a hallway mirror.  I didn’t even wonder about the mechanics of it as it spoke: “You seriously thought you could get her past me?  Me?!  An actual demon?!”
            I really didn’t know how to answer that, so I went with “Huh?”
          “I feel bad for you, I really do,” Demon-Reflection went on, “here you are, stumbling around my house, and you still insist on trying to help the first sob story you come across even though it’s a living doll; it’s all so sad.”
            That snapped me out of it: “Wait a minute, I’m a paying customer, I just tried to bring a freaky doll back to her room, and you waltz right in me like you own the place!”
            Demon-Reflection looked unconcerned.  “So what are you gonna do about it, hm?  Whine?”
          “I’m gonna be-be-be very irate!”  I undramatically sputtered, then whipped out my phone.  “And rate this place zero stars so no one’ll ever come here again, ha!  Foiled you, demon!”
            “That only hurts the people who work here – I don’t care either way.”
            “Gaaah!”
            “Listen, I like your spirit,” Demon-Reflection seemed ready to leave.  “Tell you what: I’ll put Baby Doll back in her room all safe and sound, I won’t possess you again, and you and your posse can leave whenever you want.  Although I think it’s about 9, so you should probably leave now so the next group can come through.”
            “Really?  I – ”
            “Just get out.”
            I ran down all three flights of stairs and found my friends waiting by the entrance with the teenager.
            “There you are!”  They laughed.  “Did you have a good time?”
            “What?”  I couldn’t believe they weren’t worried about me!
            The teenager shooed us out.  “Thank you, glad you had a spooktacular time, we’re so behind schedule.”
            We passed the next group coming in as we got into our rental car.
           “So, are you satisfied?”  One of my friends asked as we buckled ourselves in.  “Was this all ‘actual fear’ enough for you?”
            “I suppose.”  I didn’t want to tip my hand.
            “It’d better be,” she said.  “We paid extra for that ‘Demon Possession’ gag you’re pretending didn’t happen.”
            “What?!”
            They laughed at me again.  “You should have seen how intense you looked when you thought you were saving that doll!  And the interactive mirror was awesome!”
            “But-but-but how could that even work?!”  I was sputtering a lot that night.  “So many things had to come together – I lost five minutes, for crying out loud!”
            “I think you just need a new watch.”
            “Oh.”
            In spite of the adrenaline, I was feeling a bit bummed at the manipulation as we drove away from the haunted house.  Still, it had been exactly what I asked for: real fear, without real peril.
I still tried to figure out how all those tricks had been managed as I watched the house recede, a tiny silhouette in the third-floor window waving at us.

Thursday, October 19, 2017

Story 208: Meeting Interrupted by a Horror Movie Villain



            (Committee meeting in a board room)
           Chair: Yes, I think we have wasted far too many words on this subject and I move that it should be tabled until the end of time – anyone second that?
            Member 1: Wait, I want to make a motion on –
            Chair: Motion denied.
            Member 1: But you don’t know what it is yet.
            Chair: I will address the Committee: by a show of hands, are there any members present who care?  (No one looks up) Motion fails to pass.
            Member 1: Aw, my motions always fail to pass.
          Chair: Returning to the original motion: second?  (Several hands raise) All in favor?  (All hands raise) Motion passes; let the minutes reflect that this Committee will never raise the issue of that abomination again.  Now, the next item on the agenda is: should this Committee allocate funds for the upcoming event that none of us went to last year?
            Member 2: I think you just answered that question right there.
           (The board room door bursts open to reveal Horror Movie Villain: a hulking behemoth of a monster man who just stands there)
            Chair: (To the administrative assistant) Gladys, I thought I told you not to invite anyone for presentations this month!  Did you mess up the agenda again?!
            Gladys: (Frantically searching through piles of paper) But I didn’t – I told them not to – this isn’t fair – !
            Chair: (To Horror Movie Villain) Well, it can’t be helped now.  Please take a seat.
            Horror Movie Villain: (Speaks from the depths of Hell) Your soulssss… are mine….
            Chair: You can ask questions at the end.  (Gestures to Member 3, who pulls out a rolling chair from against the wall behind Horror Movie Villain so that it hits the latter in the back of the knees, forcing him to sit heavily on it) Now, let’s see.  (Reads from a form in a packet) So you’re the sales rep with the landscaping vendor, correct?
            Horror Movie Villain: Desolationnnn….
            Chair: Gladys, please give him a glass of water.  (Gladys hands Horror Movie Villain a glass of water; he stares at it) Remind me what your company’s bid is again?
            Horror Movie Villain: (Rattling breath) Flamesssss… ice…..
           Chair: (Flips through the packet) No, I don’t see that – ah!  Here it is; yes, we actually did reach a consensus last meeting that the amount needs to be under- and not over-budget this time: would your company be willing to revise its proposal?
            Horror Movie Villain: (Looks at the Committee Members, still holding the glass) Burnnnn….
            Chair: I don’t think it’ll come to that; perhaps if you reduced your estimate by 10%?
          Member 1: I’d like to make a motion to completely reject this company on the grounds that their sales rep appears to be a literal demon.
           Chair: Strike that from the minutes!  And you’ve surpassed your quota of motions for the year.
          Member 1: There’s no such thing in parliamentary procedure!  You’re always trying to stifle my departmental voice on this Committee!
            Horror Movie Villain: (Stands slowly) Ruinnnn… torment….
           Chair: Yes, I think we all agree – Gladys, please show the rep out and make sure the front desk validates his parking.  (Gladys takes the glass from his hand as she takes him by the elbow and guides him out the door) So that issue will have to be tabled until the next meeting when more information is forwarded to us for review.  (Gladys re-enters) Oh yes, I just realized that we can’t continue if you’re not here to take minutes….  Everything all right?
            Gladys: (Looking at a piece of paper she is holding) He gave me this thing that says “One-Way Ticket to the Underworld,” and then he jumped into a fiery portal that just opened in the wall.  It’s gone now.
            Chair: Oh good, I was afraid he wanted us to call him back.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Story 207: The Office of Proper Perspective

            “Come in!” The Adviser called out in response to the knock on the door.  The Client gingerly opened the door, quickly took in the office, and slightly smiled.  “Have a seat!”  The Adviser gestured to the chair in front of the desk.
          “Thanks,” The Client said, sitting down and alternating between looking quickly at The Adviser and staring at the floor.
            “So,” The Adviser began.  “How did you hear about us?  Referral?”
          “Actually, I saw an ad online when I was, you know.”  The Adviser waited with raised eyebrows.  “Killing time waiting for the long night to finally end.”       
            “I completely understand.  And how can I help you today?”
            “Well, the ad said your company can solve nearly all problems, which everyone knows is impossible, so what’s the angle?”
            “Exactly what the name of our company is.”  The Adviser pointed to a sign on the wall that read “The Office of Proper Perspective.”  “We make you realize that your problems are really not problems at all, once you apply The Proper Perspective.”
            “Oh, OK, I don’t know about that.”
           “Let’s start by you telling me what your problems are at this moment,” The Adviser said while readying a pen and notebook.  “Pretend I’m someone you know really well, and just vent everything you can possibly think of.”
          “All right.”  The Client shift in the seat, thinking for a moment.  “So lately, I feel like everything I do is wrong and I wish it would all be over.”
            The Adviser nodded, not looking up while taking notes.  “Um-hm.  How so?”
         “Well, it’s all about work; I’m sure it’s always about work, right?”  When there was no response, The Client continued: “I’m in a dead-end job I don’t really care about, I can’t keep up with the work, and a few weeks ago two people in my department simultaneously quit so now I have all their work on top of all my work that, as I mentioned two seconds ago, I can’t keep up with!  So in essence, the work tripled while the time remained the same – I swear those two made a pact to get revenge on us or something – and no amount of money would ever make any of this worth it, since I have no time or will to enjoy it!”
            “Um-hm.  Even if it were $1 million an hour?”
            “Maybe – only because then I could retire within a week.”
            “OK.  Anything else?”
            “Any – !  Isn’t this enough?!  I’m going to have a heart attack and drop dead at my desk, and nothing that I did will ever have mattered!”
            “Um-hm.”  The Adviser stopped writing and picked up the notebook to read from.  “In light of the information you’ve given me, I’m going to ask you a few questions.  Question 1: Are you in good health?”
            “Well, yes – ”
            “Sub-question 1: Do you have full use of your faculties – physical, mental, and emotional?”
            “Well, yes – ”
            “Question 2: Do you have an adequate number of still-living relatives, and/or do you have decent relationships with the ones present?”
            “Well, yes – ”
            “Question 3: Are you currently homeless, penniless, and/or loveless?”
            “Well, no – ”
            “Question 4: Are you currently the plaintiff or defendant in a lawsuit?”
            “Well, no – ”
            “Question 5: Are you currently the target of an obsessive stalker and/or other pervert?”
            “No!”
            “Question 6: Are your current co-workers and/or boss horrible trolls who make your days a living Purgatory?”
            “Well, no, they’re pretty decent; it’s not their fault all this happened – ”
           “Final Question: Do you always have something to look forward to outside of your work day?”
            “Well, yes, my family and friends – ”
            The Adviser set down the notebook and looked at The Client.  “So.  Tell me how you feel about your problems now.”
            The Client squirmed a bit and mumbled: “I guess when you put it like that – ”
            “I’m sorry, what was that?”
         “I said, I get it!”  The Client looked up from the floor.  “Whatever problems I have are temporary and aren’t as bad as what I could have wrong with my life.  You’re right, and I feel slightly better about the whole thing: is that it?”
            “Lovely.  You can pay the bill at the front desk – have a nice day!”  The Adviser waved at The Client, who half-heartedly returned it on the way out the door.
            Two minutes later: “Come in!”
            A face popped in: “Is this ‘The Office of Hugs for Horrible Lives’?”
            “That’s back out in the hall, second door on the left.”