Apeshit (7 page)

her labeled food back into the cooler. “What the hell are you

two up to?”

Kevin says, “We’re going to explore,” while flashing

his flashlight in and out of his mouth.

“Where?” Crystal says.

“We’re just going to see what’s in the attic,” Jason

says.

“Now, just before dinner?” Crystal asks. “You’re go-

ing to get your hands all dirty.”

“We won’t be long,” Jason says.

“You’re not trying to find your grandpa’s guns are

you?” Crystal says.

“Maybe . . .” Jason says.

“I don’t want you messing with guns while you’ve

been drinking,” Crystal says. “Somebody’s going to get shot

in the face.”

“No they won’t,” Jason says. “I know what I’m do-

ing.”

Jason and Kevin turn around and leave the room.

“Damn idiots,” Crystal says, getting to her feet. “I

better go after them and make sure they don’t kill them-

selves.” She steps around the couch to face Des, “You seen

Stephanie?”

“Bathroom,” Desdemona says.

“Shit,” Crystal says. “Why don’t you tell her the

sausages will be ready in ten minutes.”

“She doesn’t eat sausages,” Desdemona says. “She’s

vegetarian.”

“Oh, fuck, I forgot.”

“You didn’t bring any tofu dogs?”

“No.”

“Will she be able to eat anything?”

“Maybe a potato,” Crystal says. “Or marshmallows . . .”

“She’ll be fine,” Desdemona says.

Crystal grabs her lit le pink flashlight from the kitchen

counter and hurries down the hall to catch up with her boyfriend.

The attic contains half a dozen 16-pound bowling

balls that are hanging by chains from the ceiling. They swing

slowly from side-to-side. On the floor, between the hanging

bowling balls, are two small sculptures of children made out

of bowling pins. Each one has pins for arms and legs, a pin

for a torso, and an upside-down pin for a head.

“Your grandpa was seriously weird, dude,” Kevin says,

bending down to examine one of the pin-boy sculptures.

With his index finger, Kevin draws a smiley face in

the dust on the pin-boy’s pin-head. He presses his thumb in

the center of the face to make a nose.

“Cute,” Jason says.

Crystal comes up the ladder, but she doesn’t enter the

attic. She peeks her head up inside and frowns at the dust

around her. She doesn’t like to go into attics or basements

because they always make her itchy. She doesn’t like the

feeling of dust from old junk touching her. Just the thought

of it is making her itchy already.

Jason finds the gun cabinet right away. “Here it is.”

He opens the case, but it’s empty.

“What the fuck?” Jason says. “My grandpa should

have tons of guns here, somewhere.”

Jason’s grandfather had a gun fetish. He wasn’t a

hunter, a survivalist, or an ex-soldier or anything like that.

He just liked to collect them and shoot them off every once

in awhile. Jason was hoping he would be able to shoot off

the guns over the weekend. He’s sure his grandpa wouldn’t

have sold all of them.

Jason goes through the drawers of the gun case and

finds a variety of bullets. In the bottom drawer, he finds a

revolver. A Smith and Wesson .44 magnum revolver. He

picks it up over his head.

“Booyah!” Kevin says.

“You found one?” Crystal whines.

“Hells yeah,” Jason says, holding the gun up like

he’s Charles Bronson. “There’s only one, but this one is

plenty.”

“Leave that up here,” Crystal says. “You can’t use

that while you’re drinking.”

“I won’t,” Jason says.

“Then leave it,” Crystal says.

“I won’t load it,” Jason says.

“Then why are you taking the box of bullets?”

“I’m not going to put them in the gun tonight.”

While they argue, Kevin finds something interesting

in the corner of the attic. It is buried under boxes of clothes.

He interrupts them. “Hey, what’s that?”

Jason and Crystal stop arguing and move their eyes

over to the corner of the room.

“Oh, snap,” Jason says. “It’s my brother’s old Theremin.”

“You have a brother?” Kevin asks.

“I used to,” Jason says, as he goes to the corner of the

attic to take all of the junk off of the Theremin. “I wonder if

it still works.”

“Stephanie plays the Theremin,” Crystal says. “She’s

supposed to be really good. She plays classical music on it.

I think she’s even played with an orchestra before.”

“What the fuck’s a Theremin?” Kevin says.

“We should have her play it!” Jason says. “I used

to love when my brother played the Theremin. It’s such a

funny instrument.”

Jason wipes the dust off of the Theremin. He hands

the box of bullets to Kevin, sticks the revolver in his pants,

then picks up the Theremin and carries it down the ladder.

“This is going to be sweet,” Jason says.

Stephanie doesn’t show up for dinner.

“Did you tell her it was ready?” Crystal asks Des-

demona as they eat dinner outside on the deck. They are

eating potato salad and sausages on buns with mustard and

ketchup.

“Yeah,” Desdemona says. “I told her four times in

the last half hour.”

“I hope she’s not going to be like this all weekend,”

Crystal says.

“She will,” Desdemona says.

“She’s fixing up the Theremin,” Jason says.

“Why?” Crystal says.

“I told her to,” Jason says.

“What?” Crystal says. “We’ve been waiting for

her.”

“She said she’s not hungry,” Jason says.

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I don’t know,” Jason says.

Crystal realizes that Jason is really drunk now. He’s

having a difficult time eating his sausage. His mouth is cov-

ered in mustard. Crystal ignores him eating because it gross-

es her out. She is easily grossed out when it comes to food.

She thinks it’s gross how people eat food with their hands.

She never touches her food. When she eats, she always uses

a fork and knife. Even this sausage on a bun; she is cutting

it up and eating it like a steak.

Kevin, who has never eaten a bratwurst with Crystal

before, stares at her with amazement. He gives her a look as

if it’s the weirdest thing he’s ever seen. She sees him staring

at her plate and thinks he’s staring at her breasts. He notices

that she thinks he is staring at her breasts and his eyes divert

to Jason.

“This place is fucking dope . . . man,” Kevin says to

Jason. “I want my own cabin in the middle of nowhere.”

“I think it’s freaky as fuck,” Rick says, his mouth

filled with sausage. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere.

Some crazy killer could come in here and slaughter us all in

our sleep and nobody would be able to stop them.”

“Yeah, right,” Desdemona says. “This place is like a

hidden fortress. Nobody’s going to find it. Even if somebody

can see our lights from the distance it would take them for-

ever to figure out how to get up here. We’re difficult targets.

People are lazy. Even crazed killers. You’re far more likely

to get butchered in your sleep while living in the city.”

“Unless there’s a crazed killer living out here in the

woods . . .” Crystal says.

“I doubt there’s a crazed killer out there,” Desdemo-

na says, pointing her sausage at Crystal. “If there was one

in the area don’t you think he would have moved into this

abandoned cabin a long time ago?”

“Actually,” Jason says, looking up from his food with

glossy eyes. “There is.”

“There is what?” Rick asks.

“A crazed killer in the woods,” Jason says, losing his

balance in his chair.

“Bullshit,” Desdemona says.

“Bullshit?” Jason yells, standing up.

“Sit down,” Crystal says to Jason. “You’ve had way

to much to drink.”

“I’m fine,” Jason says, patting his girlfriend on the

shoulder. “Fine. But, it’s true. My dad used to tell me about

it when I was a kid.”

Crystal pulls him down into his chair. “You’re too

drunk to tell ghost stories.”

“I’m fine,” Jason tells her. He composes himself.

“It’s a true story. His name’s Buddy.”

“Buddy?” Desdemona asks. “You’re trying to scare

us with a story about Buddy the crazed killer? Give me a

break.”

“No,” Jason says. “Not Buddy the crazed killer. His

name is Buddy the Lobster Boy.”

“I’m not listening to this,” Desdemona says, fluff-

ing her mohawk. “This is going to be the worst ghost story

ever.”

“It’s
not
a story!” Jason says. He’s serious all of a

sudden. He pounds his fist on the table. “When I was a kid

my dad used to tell me and my brother the story of Buddy the

Lobster Boy. He was this deformed freak. You know, one of

those lobster people who are born with their fingers molded

together. Remember I told you there’s a lot of inbreeding

rednecks up here that create scary mutants? Well, Buddy is

the scariest of them. Not only does he have lobster hands,

but he also has one of those stillborn fetuses conjoined to his

head. Only, it’s not attached to the outside of his head, it is

inside of his head. So he has dead baby arms and legs stick-

ing out of the side of his skull. And out of the top of his head

is a little dead baby head.”

Kevin tries to hold in his laughter when he pictures a

guy with a little head growing out of the top of his head. Ja-

son hears the snicker and pauses. He stands up and walks to

the cooler carefully. He takes out a beer and cracks it open.

“He lives in these very woods,” Jason says. “He has

been killing people for years, but nobody has been able to

stop him. Some people have seen him and lived. My dad

was one of those people. He only kills people who look at

him and then scream. You see, he hates the fact that he’s so

ugly. If you see him and scream in horror it will make him

so angry that he will go into a murderous rage and rip you

to pieces. So my dad always told me to never scream while

I’m out in these woods, no matter what happens. He told me

never to show fear. He always told me that if I ever screamed

the lobster boy would kill me. I’ve never screamed since.”

Desdemona laughs. “Wasn’t this the plot of some

really lame horror movie from the ‘80s?”

“It’s not funny,” Jason says. “Buddy the Lobster Boy

killed my brother.”

Kevin snickers. He’s not sure if Jason is joking about

that or not.

“When we used to come here as kids,” Jason says.

“Me and my older brother used to play hide and seek in the

woods. One time, I was the one hiding. I hid in a really

good spot where my brother could never find me. I waited

for what seemed like hours. He couldn’t find me. Eventu-

ally, I heard a loud scream. My brother’s scream. Some-

thing made him cry out. That’s the last I ever heard from

my brother. They searched for months, but could never find

his body. My parents figured he fell off the cliff and was

taken away by the river. But I know that’s not what hap-

pened. I know that on that day while playing hide and seek,

my brother found something else instead of me. He found