u/Visceral_Mass

I exhaled the smoke I’d been holding in my lungs before declaring, “I’m hungry.”

“Help yourself,” Jay gestured at the fridge with the joint that was pinched between his thumb and index finger before taking a hit from it.

I got to my feet and slowly made my way into the kitchen.

Along the way, I got distracted by the goldfish tank that was set up on the counter.

“You can’t eat those,” Jay called out. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking.

“I’m not that desperate,” I replied, then smiled and said, “Yet.”

When I finally made it to the fridge and opened the door, I was disappointed by what I saw. There was a package of bologna that had started to dry out because it hadn’t been closed properly, a gallon of milk with an expiration date from the previous week, and various bottles of half-full condiments.

I shut the fridge and turned toward Jay.

“Where’s the nearest store?” I asked.

“There’s a mini mart a few blocks up the street,” he gave an upward nod of his chin, indicating the general direction of the place.

“Is it safe to walk there at this hour?” I asked after looking at my phone to see what time it was.

“It’s cool, man,” Jay replied, “You ain’t got nothing to worry about. Not in this neighborhood.”

Jay was an old friend from high school who I was staying with for a few days while I checked out a couple of colleges in the area.

Since I didn’t know anything about the area, I decided to trust him, which probably had more to do with the pot we’d been smoking than common sense.

“I’ll be back in a few,” I said, heading for the door, “Want anything?”

“I’ll take a couple of hot dogs if they have any,” he said, “If they don’t, just get me one of those big bags of Doritos.”

The walk down to the mini mart was uneventful. I was able to stock up on everything I wanted, along with what Jay wanted. To be nice, I got him both the hot dogs and the bag of Doritos since he was letting me stay with him.

I was about halfway back to Jay’s apartment when a guy wearing a green hoodie stepped out from behind a bush, blocking my path.

“Excuse me,” I said as I tried to walk around him, but he just stepped to the side to keep me from moving forward.

When I glanced behind me to see how far away I was from the safety of the mini mart, I was not happy to see another guy in a hoodie, a grey one, walking towards us.

“Empty your pockets,” Green Hoodie demanded.

“What?” I stammered. The reality of the situation hadn’t hit me yet.

“I said empty your pockets!” When he was done talking, he pulled a small black pistol out of his pocket and pointed it at me, “Now!”

“Okay,” I said, slowly putting the bags I was carrying onto the ground.

So much for this being a safe neighborhood, Jay, I thought.

As I started to reach into my pocket for my wallet, the guy in the grey hoodie suddenly shouted.

“Yo, Dee,” he sounded worried, “look behind you.”

Both Dee and I looked in the direction Grey Hoodie was pointing. All I saw was a scrawny black cat standing on top of a cinderblock wall, looking down at us. Apparently, Dee and Grey Hoodie saw something else.

Dee pointed his gun at the cat and fired while slowly walking backward away from it.

The cat didn’t even flinch when the bullet tore a small chunk out of the cinderblock near its feet.

“I told you that demon cat was real,” Grey Hoodie said before turning around and fleeing.

Dee fired a couple more shots, none of which hit the cat, before he also fled.

“What the fuck was that all about?” I wondered as I hurriedly picked my stuff back up.

When I lifted my head and looked back at where the cat was, I nearly pissed myself when I saw a large, hairy black creature that had vaguely feline features looming over me. It was standing on its hind legs and had to be about eight feet tall with glowing red eyes.

The image of the creature disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, making me wonder if I was hallucinating.

“What the hell were we smoking?” I muttered, thinking the pot could have been laced with something.

“Did you see that thing?” I asked the cat.

It meowed its response at me.

I wonder if that’s what those guys saw? I thought as I made my way back to Jay’s apartment.

When I got back inside, I told Jay about the encounter and the hallucination I had of the creature.

“That wasn’t a hallucination,” he replied, “That cat was Mr. Mistoffelees.”

“The cat from that Broadway show?” I once had a girlfriend who was obsessed with the show and would constantly play the soundtrack.

“I don’t know anything about that,” Jay said, “All I know is he keeps the neighborhood safe.”

“Whatever,” I waved off his comment, “I may be high, but I’m not high enough to believe that.” And I wasn’t until I looked out the window and saw that demonic feline face staring back at me.

I opened the door to find Mr. Gordon standing on my porch. He was clutching a manila folder in his hands, and he looked upset.

“How can I help you, Mr. Gordon?” I asked.

Instead of replying, he held the folder out to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, taking the folder from him.

“It’s my wife’s ultrasound,” he said.

“How far along is she?” I asked as I opened the folder.

I work as a nurse at the local fertility clinic, which is where I first met Mr. Gordon. He and his wife had been trying to conceive for over a decade without any success. After their last failed procedure, I pulled Mr. Gordon aside and offered him an unconventional and unsanctioned treatment option.

He and his wife were desperate to have children, so he readily agreed.

“It’s been five months,” he answered.

“Has it been five months already?” I said as I looked at the ultrasound picture that was in the folder.

“Mmm-hmm,” Mr. Gordon confirmed with a nod.

“So,” I squinted at the image, “What is it I’m looking at here?”

“You’re a nurse,” he scoffed, “Can’t you tell?”

“You’re right, I am a nurse,” I agreed sarcastically, “Which means I’m not an ultrasound tech or a radiologist. I’m not trained to decipher what’s shown on these.” I tapped the ultrasound image.

That was a lie. I could decipher most of what was on the image, but I wanted him to tell me what was wrong with it.

“See this right here?” he tapped at a long, thin structure extending from the infant’s behind, “That’s a tail. And these, he tapped two small bumps on the infant’s back, are some kind of tumors.”

“They’re not tumors,” I closed the folder and handed it back to him, “You’d know that if you took your wife back to the Dante Clinic as I told you to.” I slapped the folder against his chest, forcing him to take it back.

“What the hell is wrong with my son?” he fumed, “The doctor thinks he has some sort of birth defect, which I’m certain has something to do with the treatment you gave my wife.”

“The child your wife is carrying is not your son,” I pointed at the folder, “And there is nothing wrong with him. The tail and the wings, those bumps you thought were tumors, would have been reabsorbed before he was born. You never would have known they were there if you had gone to the clinic like you were supposed to.”

The clinic would’ve doctored the ultrasound image, making it look like a normal, healthy child, and they would’ve reassured the Gordon couple that everything was going well with the pregnancy.

“What do you mean he’s not my son?”

“He’s not even human,” I revealed, “Your wife’s womb was so barren that the only way for her to conceive was through supernatural means.”

Mr. Gordon had a confused look on his face.

“You wanted a kid,” I continued, “So I made a deal that got you a kid. I never said what kind of kid it was going to be, and you never specified what kind you wanted.”

“Do you think it worked?” the girl named Harper asked.

“I’m not sure,” the boy named Greg replied.

The two of them had drugged a girl named Molly and used her body to summon me.

I lifted my head and smiled, “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

They were standing safely outside the pentagram they’d drawn on the floor. Otherwise, I would’ve already eviscerated them and been dancing upon their corpses.

“Holy shit,” Greg stepped back, making sure he was clear of the pentagram, “It really worked.”

“What are we supposed to do now?” Harper asked.

Greg consulted the book in his hand, “It says here that we give it the offering and then we get to ask a boon of it.”

Harper walked over to a table in the corner where a bloody goat heart rested on a plate. She picked up the plate and brought it over to Greg.

“Here.” She tried to hand him the plate.

“I don't want it. Give it to the demon,” he gestured at me.

I leaned forward on the chair I was sitting on and reached out my hand.

“I’m not going anywhere near that thing,” she replied.

“It can’t hurt you as long as it’s inside the pentagram,” Greg explained.

“If that’s true, then you give it the offering,” she thrust the plate at him.

“Fine.” He took it and held it out to me.

As I took the plate from him, I shouted, “BOO!” Both of them practically shit their pants.

He was right about me not being able to hurt them as long as I was confined, but there was no rule against scaring them.

Once I was done laughing, I said, “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Give us our boon,” Greg demanded.

“Not so fast, hotshot,” I replied, “The deal requires a fresh heart and this one…” I held it up to my mouth and took a bite out of it, “This one is several days old and tastes like it has freezer burn.” I released my hold on the organ, letting it splat onto the floor. “If you want your boon, you’ve got to get me a fresh heart.”

Greg and Harper started conversing in whispers about where they could find a fresh heart.

“We’ll be back,” Greg said before they left the room.

“Take your time,” I said, and I meant it.

Once I was sure that they weren’t coming right back, I reached into the back pocket of the body I was possessing and pulled out the phone that they forgot she had.

After unlocking the screen with her face, I scrolled through her apps until I saw one that I could use. It was called Tinder.

I quickly opened the app, took a new picture of myself with the blood still on my lips from the heart. Then I changed my profile message to say: Demon-possessed goth princess seeks hellbound goth prince to save her soul. Can you handle the heat?

The messages started rolling in.

This is too easy, I smiled.

Thanks to all the ignorant, horny men out there, I would be free in no time.

“What do you think it is?” Eli gestured at the small wooden structure we’d come across while walking through the woods.

The little building was about 7’ tall and about 4’ long/wide and looked to have been built recently. It had a sloped roof, a single door, and no windows.

“It looks like an outhouse,” I declared. I’d seen enough of them in the old west movies I watched with my dad.

“Who do you think put it here?” he asked.

I shrugged, “I have no idea, but whoever did put it up did it awfully fast.”

It wasn’t there two days ago when we last cut through the woods to get to the park.

“What are you kids doing out here?” someone asked behind us.

Eli and I both jumped. We were both so focused on the outhouse that we hadn’t heard anyone approach.

When we turned around, we saw a guy with shaggy brown hair and a goatee who was dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt I didn’t recognize. He looked to be in his twenties.

“Nothing,” Eli answered his question.

“Is that yours?” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the outhouse.

“You can see the outhouse?” the guy sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Interesting,” he muttered to himself.

“Is it yours or not?” I asked.

“It’s mine,” he said and then clarified, “Well, technically it's not mine, but it is here because of me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eli asked.

“That outhouse,” he pointed, “Is a…portal…to another…dimension.” He seemed unsure of his word choices as he explained

“He’s pulling your leg,” I said to Eli.

“I’m not.” He raised his hand as if he were taking a pledge, “I swear.”

“Are you an alien?” Eli asked.

“He’s not an alien,” I interrupted before the guy could answer, “He’s just some weirdo who’s messing with us.”

“I’m not an alien,” the guy ignored my comment, “I’m an administrator for the server this simulation is running on, and you two shouldn’t be able to see the outhouse.” He pointed at us.

As soon as he finished speaking, a blonde girl opened the outhouse door and shouted, “Are you done installing the updates yet? You’ve been in here forever.”

“Yeah, I’m done,” he called back, “But there seems to be a bit of a glitch.”

 Eli and I just stood there listening to the exchange.

“What kind of a glitch?” she asked.

“These two sims,” he gestured at Eli and me again, “Can see the outhouse.”

“That’s not that big of a deal,” the girl said, “Just wipe the last 10 minutes from their memory.”

“Are you sure that will fix them?”

“It’s that, or we shut the server down and run diagnostics on all the sim codes.”

“I’m not doing that again,” he said as he pulled a small electronic device from his pocket.

***

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked Eli. He had a confused look on his face.

“Because I forgot what we were doing?” he replied.

“We were…,” it took me a moment to collect my thoughts as I looked around at where we were, “We were going to the park,” I said.

At least I think that was what we were doing. I couldn’t think of any other reason the two of us would be in the woods. I couldn’t remember anything from the past ten minutes or so.

Then out of the blue, the image of an outhouse popped into my mind.

“Do you really think we’ll find anything worth selling in all this junk?” my brother, Brian, asked.

The two of us were taking stock of the stuff in our father’s attic after he passed away.

“I think I already did,” I declared, showing him the screen of my phone. On it was an eBay auction for a clown doll still in its original box.

The bids for the doll were currently over $3,000.

“Misfit the Clown,” my brother read the name off the box in the photo.

“Look,” I directed his attention to the corner of the attic where a similar-looking box sat on top of a pile of cardboard boxes.

“No way,” Brian smiled.

He looked from the photo on my phone to the box in the corner.

“That one looks to be in a lot better condition,” he pointed at the box in the corner, “Which means it should be worth a whole lot more.”

“Assuming the doll is still inside,” I replied.

“Let’s find out,” he said.

The two of us squeezed through the piles of junk until we were standing in front of the Misfit the Clown box.

“Be careful with it,” Brian warned as I reached up and plucked the box off the top of the stack.

As I lifted it, I could feel something shift around within the box that felt about the right size and weight to be a doll.

“I think the doll’s still inside,” I said.

“What’s that?” Brian pointed as I gently laid the box down upon a nearby trunk. He was pointing at a handwritten note that was taped to the top of it.

In big red letters, the note said: DO NOT OPEN.

“What do you think that’s all about?” I asked.

“He was probably trying to keep it in good condition and didn’t want anyone messing with it,” Brian offered as an explanation.

“That makes sense,” I agreed, “Should we open it, or leave it sealed?” As I spoke, I examined the underside of the box.

“Never mind, it’s not sealed,” I noticed that the tape that was once used to seal the box shut had become brittle and broken.

“Doesn’t matter if it was,” Brian said, “We’d still have to open it to check the condition of the doll.”

“True,” I agreed again.

“Let’s see what we’ve got.” Brian carefully peeled the note off the top of the box and then gently pried the lid off, only to find the box empty. “Where’s the doll?” He looked over at me, “I thought you said it was still inside.”

“It felt like it was,” I insisted.

Brian turned the lid over and looked at it. Taped to the inside of it was another note. The handwriting on this one was different. It looked more childlike.

He pulled the note free and read it, “Hello Brian and Caitlyn, if you want me, you have to find me first. Signed, Misfit the Clown.”

Chills climbed up my back when I heard him say our names.

“Give me that,” I snatched the note away from Brian, “Did you write this?” I asked, thinking he’d set this whole thing up as an elaborate prank to scare me.

Brian shook his head.

“Then who did?”

“I did,” a goofy-sounding voice replied behind me.

I whirled around and found the clown doll sitting on the floor, propped up against the attic door with a huge toothy grin on its face.

“Looks like you found me.” The voice came from the doll, but its lips did not move, “Now it’s your turn to hide.”

The air fryer chimed, signaling that my smiley fries were done.

I know it may seem childish to be eating little potato patties that were shaped like smiley faces, but I honestly liked the flavor and texture of them.

After grabbing a pot holder to protect my hand, I opened the air fryer and pulled out the little basket that contained my fries.

“That’s weird,” I said when I saw the little round potato faces staring up at me.

They weren’t smiling like they were supposed to be. They were all frowning.

I set the basket back inside the air fryer and went to the freezer to retrieve the bag I’d pulled the fries out of. When I looked at the label, I was shocked to see it said FROWNEY FRIES and pictured several frowning potato cakes.

I was positive the label had said SMILEY FRIES when I pulled it out earlier.

That’s when I heard my wife, Nadia, sobbing in the other room.

“Hey, Honey, what’s wrong?”

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, so I sat down beside her.

“It didn’t work.” Nadia showed me the pregnancy test she was holding in her hand. It said she wasn’t pregnant.

“We expected this, remember?” I reminded her, “The doctor said the treatments could take a few months before they are effective.”

“I know,” she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, “I just thought this would be a lot easier.”

“It’ll happen,” I assured her, “We just have to be patient.”

I got up and kissed the top of her head. As I was leaving the room, I stopped in the doorway and turned back to ask, “You don’t know anything about the Frowney Fries in the freezer, do you?”

“Sorry,” Nadia replied, “That’s my fault. Ever since I went through puberty, whenever I feel extremely strong emotions, it changes random things around me to match my mood.”

“You’re joking, right?” I gave her a skeptical look.

“I wish I were.”

She reached over, picked up the magazine that was sitting on the nightstand, and showed me the cover, which featured an old picture of Henry Winkler as The Fonz from the show Happy Days.

What was odd about the picture was that The Fonz wasn’t smiling. He was frowning, and instead of having his signature thumbs-up pose, he had both of his thumbs pointing down. The name of the show on the cover had also been altered so that it said SAD DAYS instead of HAPPY DAYS.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I wanted to believe it was just an elaborate prank, but I don’t think she would do something like that, given how upset she was about not being pregnant.

“I know I should have told you sooner,” Nadia said, “But I didn’t want you to think I was a freak.”

“How come I haven’t noticed until now?”

“Because you didn’t want to notice,” she replied, “It’s happened about a dozen times since we’ve been married.”

“Really?”

“Remember when we had that big fight a couple of months ago?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. It was a stupid fight when she found out one of my ex-girlfriends had been hired at the office where I worked. “You were really pissed. I remember getting a drink from the fridge and you knocking it out of my hand and telling me to leave.”

Nadia got up, retrieved something from the bottom drawer of her nightstand, and brought it over to me.

It was an empty, slightly crumpled can of LIQUID DEATH, something I frequently drank.

No, I corrected myself after looking closer at the label, it’s not Liquid Death it's something called Death Liquid.

“I told you to leave for your own safety,” Nadia revealed, “If I hadn’t knocked that drink out of your hand,” she pointed at the can, “Drinking it would have killed you.”

“So what do you think?” the realtor asked.

“I love the look of it,” I declared. The house had a very rustic feel to it, even though it was in a densely populated area.

“It’s got four bedrooms and two baths, and is well within the limit you’re willing to spend,” she said.

I only heard half of what she said because I became distracted by the beautiful black and white cat that was grooming itself on the front porch.

I love cats. I had four of my own. They were one of the reasons I was looking for a bigger place to live.

“That’s Oreo,” the realtor revealed, “he comes with the house.”

“He does?”

“The previous residents couldn’t take him with them when they left,” she said.

“That’s so sad,” I said as I approached Oreo, “How come they couldn’t take him?”

While I waited for the realtor to respond, I reached out to pet Oreo. Instead of feeling his soft fur, I felt an intense freezing sensation on my fingers. When I looked down, I was shocked to see that my hand was passing through the cat’s incorporeal body.

“That’s why they couldn’t take him with them,” the realtor explained.

In shock at realizing that Oreo was a ghost, I just stood there and stared at him.

“This might be a good time to mention that Oreo’s owner, the previous resident’s mother, also still resides in the house," the realtor announced.

“What?” I turned to face her.

“Don’t worry,” she quickly replied, “She doesn’t appear nearly as much as Oreo does.”

“Who is Cheryl?” Mrs. Coleman snapped.

She was standing in the garage doorway.

“I have no idea,” Mr. Coleman replied.

He was standing in the garage because Mrs. Coleman wouldn’t let him into the house.

“Well, she seems to be very familiar with you.” Mrs. Coleman thrust a piece of paper into his.

He took the paper and read it. The more he read, the more bewildered he looked.

“I don’t know this woman,” Mr. Coleman insisted as he handed the paper back to her.

“Stop lying,” Mrs. Coleman hissed, “I know you’ve been seeing someone behind my back.”

“I’m not lying,” Mr. Coleman said, “I have no idea who Cheryl is.”

“How do you explain her comment about the birthmark on your inner thigh?” Mrs. Coleman waved the paper in his face.

“I can’t,” was his response.

“Or what about the late nights you said you were working?” she sneered.

“I was working late,” he replied.

“That’s not what Jim told Sarah,” she countered.

Jim was a coworker of Mr. Coleman’s who was married to Sarah, a good friend of Mrs. Coleman.

“He told her that you’ve actually been leaving early,” she continued.

Knowing he was caught in a lie, Mr. Coleman decided to come clean.

“Do you really want to know where I was?” he snapped back, finally losing his composure, “Come here,” he motioned for her to follow, “I’ll show you.”

Mr. Coleman walked to the back of his car and popped the trunk.

“That’s the reason I was late,” he gestured at the bag of golf clubs in the trunk, “I know I promised I’d give it up, but I just couldn’t do it,” he admitted.

“You really expect me to believe that you were golfing?” she scoffed.

“I was!”

Mrs. Coleman started to pull out one of the golf clubs so she could examine it. As she did so, something fell out of the golf bag. She leaned down and picked it up.

It was a pair of lacy panties.

“You son of a bitch!” Mrs. Coleman dropped the underwear and lifted the golf club over her shoulder in a two-handed grip.

“I have no idea how that got in there,” Mr. Coleman raised his hands in a defensive gesture, but it wasn’t enough to protect him when Mrs. Coleman swung the club.

The first whack sent him to the floor. The second knocked him out. One of the dozen or so whacks after that killed him.

I waited until Mrs. Coleman dropped the club before I turned off the security cameras that I was watching her and Mr. Coleman through. Then I went out into the garage.

“I can help you clean this up,” I said to Mrs. Coleman. As her housekeeper, it was going quite a bit beyond my typical job duties, but I was willing to make an exception.

I let my offer sink in before I added, “But I’m going to need a raise.”

Luckily for me, Mr. Coleman hadn’t told his wife that he’d fired me this morning after I asked him for a raise, otherwise she might have been a little more suspicious about the origin of the note and panties I’d planted.

“Do you need anything?” I asked my wife, Claire.

I had to pick her up after she was injured in an accident at the lab where she worked as a number theorist.

Apparently some top secret machine malfunctioned and that was all she could tell me about it.

“I’m good,” she replied, “I think I’m just going to go lay down and rest for a bit.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the emergency room?” I asked.

“I’m sure,” Claire insisted, “I just had the wind knocked out of me. There’s no point in making a big deal out of it. I’ll be fine. I just need to rest for a bit.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t going to push her. As far as I could tell, she was acting normal, “I’ll come check on you in a little while.”

While she went to the bedroom, I went back into our home office and continued working on the spreadsheets I needed to finish before the end of the day.

I was working for about an hour before I started hearing mumbling coming from across the hall which is where our bedroom was. Thinking it might be Claire trying to get my attention, I got up and checked on her.

“Did you need something?” I asked softly.

When she didn’t acknowledge me, I realized she must be talking in her sleep. I thought it was cute and decided to eavesdrop for a bit.

Most of what she said sounded like numerical nonsense which wasn’t a surprise considering she worked with numbers all day but I did hear her say the words “want” and “baby”.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I muttered.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I heard a baby cry across the hall.

I ran over there to investigate and was shocked to find that our home office had been converted into a nursery for a newborn baby who did not sound very happy.

Not knowing what the hell was going on, I ran back into the bedroom and tried to wake Claire.

“Time to get up!” I yelled.

She didn’t stir. She laid there and continued to mumble. This time I heard the words “beach” and house”.

In addition to the baby crying, I could now here the sounds of waves crashing upon a beach.

I ran over to the window and peeked outside.

“This can’t be real.” Our house, which was once surrounded by similar houses in a small subdivision was now sitting on a beach.

I returned to Claire.

“What the hell happened to you at work?” I asked.

She responded by spouting off that numerical mumbo jumbo again before saying the words “rabid”, “zombie” and, “woodchucks”.

That was the name of a really cheesy horror movie we’d watched the night before.

“Oh no,” I groaned.

Rabid zombie woodchucks no longer sounded that cheesy when they were gnawing at your door trying to get inside your house.

“I can’t believe you moved into Tommy Two Teeth’s house,” Rebecca said.

We were standing on the sidewalk outside my house after walking home from the high school together. I’d just moved to town a week ago, and she was the first friend I’d made.

“Who’s Tommy Two Teeth?” I asked.

“He was this retarded kid who used to carry his two front teeth around in the pocket of his overalls,” she explained, “He was in my third-grade class, and every week for show and tell he’d pull out those teeth and tell everyone about how he lost them. It was so annoying.” She looked up at the house, “That used to be his room right there.” She pointed at the window that belonged to my bedroom.

“What happened to him?”

“He drowned,” Rebecca said, “At the lake about six years ago.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It was,” she agreed. She stared at the house as she continued talking, “Didn’t the realtor tell your parents that the house is haunted?” she asked, “I thought there was a law where they had to disclose things like that.”

“They don’t have to say anything unless they are directly asked,” I replied. I’d seen that on one of the ghost-hunting shows that were popular a few years ago, “Do you think it’s haunted?” I asked for her opinion.

Rebecca shrugged, “I don’t know, I’ve never been inside.”

“Do you want to come in?” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder at the house.

“Can’t,” she said quickly, “I have to go over to Lloyd’s house and help him study for the math test tomorrow.” Lloyd was her boyfriend. “If he doesn’t get a passing grade, he won’t be allowed to come to my party. Speaking of which, are you coming?”

“Absolutely!” I replied emphatically.

***

The next night, I was in Rebecca’s bedroom with her while the two of us were getting ready for the party, which was supposed to start in about an hour.

“I’m thirsty,” Rebecca announced. “Do you want anything?” she asked on her way out of the room.

“I’ll take a Coke if you got it,” I said.

After she left, I rushed over to the doorway to make sure she was actually gone. Satisfied that she was, I turned around and scanned her room.

“That’s perfect,” I muttered to myself when I saw the little jewelry box with the ballerina figurine on top sitting on the shelf next to her bed.

After opening the jewelry box, I reached into my pocket and retrieved the tissue-wrapped bundle inside. I quickly unwrapped it, revealing two teeth.

I took a quick look over my shoulder to make sure Rebecca hadn’t returned before dumping the teeth into the jewelry box and closing the lid.

I’d found the teeth sitting on the inside ledge of my closet door frame after I had a very vivid dream about a group of kids luring a toothless boy, who couldn’t swim, to the lake. Rebecca was one of the kids in the dream. The rest were supposed to be at the party tonight.

“Here’s your Coke,” Rebecca held out the can as she entered the bedroom.

Behind her, I could see the apparition of Tommy standing in the hallway.

“Are you excited about tonight?” she asked.

“I’m very excited,” I smiled.

I was sitting at the end of the bar, minding my own business, when a tech bro wannabe decided to chat me up.

“I couldn’t help but notice you have the one-plus-one app,” he pointed at my phone, “Do you like it?”

The 1+1 app was a dating app designed for tech-savvy people looking to date other tech-savvy people.

“It’s okay,” I replied.

“I helped design it,” he announced proudly.

“Oh, really?”

“I did,” he insisted.

“That’s great,” I gave him a weak smile, “I’m happy for you.” I picked up my drink and started to leave, but wasn’t able to because he stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Are you here with anyone?” he asked.

“I don’t mean to sound rude,” I replied, “But I’ve had a really long day and don’t feel like having company right now.” I tried to push past him.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He once again stepped in front of me.

I looked at the glass in my hand, “I already have one.”

“Let me buy you another one.”

“I’m good,” I said, once again trying to squeeze past him.

He once again moved to block me and, in the process, bumped into my arm, spilling my drink all over me.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” he quickly apologized.

“Don’t worry about it.” I set my empty glass on the bar and started to storm off to the restroom to dry myself.

“Now you have to let me buy you a drink,” he called out behind me.

“Whatever,” I gave a dismissive flip of my hand.

While in the restroom, I grabbed some paper towels and dried off as much of the beer as I could.

“Why can’t these idiots take a hint?” I complained to my reflection.

Once I was sufficiently dry, I left the restroom and was intending on leaving the bar as well, but I stopped when I saw the tech bro wannabe standing at the bar with two drinks. As I watched, I saw him slip a powdered substance into one of the drinks.

There was no way I was going to let him get away with that.

“Is that drink for me?” I asked after approaching the bar, pointing at the one he’d put the powdered substance into.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, pushing it towards me.

I picked up the glass and chugged it.

“I guess you were thirsty,” he joked.

I ignored him and pulled out my phone.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I need to change the settings on one of my apps,” I replied.

“It wouldn’t be the one-plus-one app, would it?”

“Nope.”

When I was done with my phone, I grabbed the back of his head and forced him into a kiss, which he relented to quite easily.

“What was that for?” he panted after I pulled away.

“It’s payback,” I replied with a smile.

“What do you mean?” he had a confused look on his face.

To answer his question, I showed him the app I had used.

“You work for Nanogenetics?” his confused demeanor changed to one of concern.

“I do,” I replied.

Nanogenetics was the leader in nanotechnology, and I was one of their lead designers.

Recognizing he was in the presence of a superior mind, he tried to apologize, “I’m sorry,” he stammered.

“You will be when I activate the nanites that were in my saliva when we kissed,” I warned.

“You’re joking, right?”

I wasn’t. I’d already used them to detoxify the drug he’d put in my drink before I transferred them from my mouth to his. That’s what I was using the app for.

“Let’s see,” I scrolled through the app, searching for a specific set of settings. “Ah, here they are,” I showed him the settings I’d selected. They were labeled: BLADDER CONTROL.

“Please don’t,” he begged.

I pushed the button that signaled the nanites to stimulate his bladder into releasing its contents. Unfortunately, for him, he was wearing light-colored pants.

Embarrassed at pissing himself, the tech bro wannabe tried to run, but I signaled the nanites to restrict his movements, freezing him in place. Then I called up the settings labeled BOWEL CONTROL.