Travel Bug (30 page)

“We come to warn you all,” said a dead thirteen year old boy.

“Honey, what the fuck is going on? Dad asked Mom.

“Not sure,” She answered.

“Did you invite these Mormon kids to dinner tonight?”

“No.”

“I don’t want to be lectured about my alcoholism from them you know.”

“Just tell them to drop off their literature and get home. What kind of parents let their kids stay out this late?”

“I don’t know. I guess they just have bad parents,” Dad said.

Mom and Dad having a dinner party is something else. It really is. Vampires are bugs, dead kids are Mormons, and sharks are made out of plastic. Let’s not forget about camp or the foreign exchange program or whatever the hell may come next…

“We have come to warn you, do not fall into sleep or you will die…”

“All will surely die who sleep,” said a young dead girl.

“Okay, kids. I want to get drunk now. I don’t have time for any nonsense about Joseph Smith.”

“You heard him, kids. Off you go now,” said Mom with conviction.

“Good riddance, keep your fucking religion to yourself,” said Dad.

“Amen,” said Shaw.

“Well, at least they didn’t have any crosses,” said our undead guest.

Now those five children were once happy kids who belonged to wonderful and probably normal parents. What now? Cursed to walk the earth because no one can admit that Emityville has a cursed pedophile that kills kids in their sleep? This is insane and getting back to normal seems a million miles away right now. Those kids deserved better. My kids if I ever have any also deserve so much more than this nonsense in the most radical definition of the word. Still, I guess that there are entire continents where babies die from AIDS all the time.

Moms and Dads who raise their kids in religious cults or communes are often filled with hateful anger towards their parents later in life. Sometimes I think they are more normal than us and other times I feel like their anger is more than justified. Then again, the last thing I want to do is complain endlessly about my parents and childhood like some baby boomer asshole. The worst and stupidest generation who ever lived as far as my brothers and I are concerned. After all, with all of their faults they never killed us in the womb or got divorced. Woodstock was overrated.

“Those Mormon kids were nice kids,” said Mom.

They were far more than that. They were children who had potential to grow into great adults who could have changed the world for all we know. Their moms and dads will never be the same now. There is nothing worse than losing a child or at least so I have been told.

“Jefferson believed in a great wall. You know, the separation of church and state in the United States,” said Dad.

“Yes he did,” Mom said.

“Amen,” said sailor boy again.

“This is a lovely night for hunting,” said my brother Herbert.

“Yes, young one, it,” answered Klaus.

“Indeed,” I said sarcastically.

“Trust me, your brother is in good hands,” said the vampire.

“Oh, you mean compared to my parents?” I asked.

“Yes,” the creature answered.

“That’s not saying much,” I said.

“We’re going to stick around for dinner and then go out into the night to drink the blood of the living,” said my darling brother.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

“Anybody else coming tonight?” asked my brother.

“I don’t know, Count Herbert. Take it easy would you.”

We expected additional dinner guests but we were not exactly sure who they would be. The aliens, pretending to be human, pretending to be gay had already left us. I suppose that was a good thing. The last thing I wanted was to have to watch my Jim Jones make a drink for my father. The pain and horror of one’s surroundings is much easier to bear if you pretend you are in some other place or even better that you are someone else! I think that’s what Mom and Dad always did. Believe me; I don’t think they are the only ones by ten thousand miles. The world is full of parents who convince themselves they are doing a good job when it’s half a miracle their children survive another day.

“Honey, did you hear the doorbell again?” Mom asked dad.

“What?”

“The doorbell, did you hear the…”

“No.”

Mom and Dad looked afraid; they actually finally looked like something sinister was going on in our sleepy little innocent town. Then the scratching noise came… all at once. I had no doubt about who was paying us a visit.

“Go away,” my Mom screamed.

“We didn’t invite you in so you may not enter.”

“I invited myself,” the voice on the other side of the door answered.

“We don’t wish you to be here,” said Mom.

“No one wishes me to be with them but yet here I am,” he said.

My brother, the vampire and his master looked at one another. It was if they were both thinking that it was time to go at the same time. They turned into bats and flew through the window. Whoever was behind the door apparently made even the undead uncomfortable in his presence. That was surely a damning sign if ever there was one.

“Are you alone?” asked Benchley.

“No,” he answered.

“Why are you here?” Benchley inquired.

“I’ve come for this family once and for all. That and I have an old score to settle…”

Benchley’s cowardice was now obvious. He was weeping.

“Whom,” his voice filled with fear, “do you wish vengeance upon?” he asked.

“You know damn well who.”

The chief tried to run out the back door but it was to no avail, escape was simply not possible. The long arm slit his throat. Blood dripped from the man’s hook. He was no longer merely killing in the haunted world of nightmares. He was flesh and blood and he was Craven Williamson.

“I thought we killed you,” said Shaw.

“You would have an easier time killing the shark,” said the nightmare fiend.

“Don’t mind if I take one last stab at it,” said the brave captain.

“I admire your death, you have courage,” said the living monster.

Taking a knife, the biggest one mom had, from the kitchen Shaw plunged it deep inside the heart of the resurrected child murderer. He bled but it didn’t take. The fact that he was back from the dead should have tipped off the captain that he could not be defeated. The burned skin from the parents who rose up against him turned to fire and Shaw was burned alive. It was not instant; however, the fiend wanted the brave captain to suffer. The evil things of this world cannot stand it when good men show great bravery.

“Dear God,” screamed Dad.

“What do we do?” asked Mom.

“We fight it,” I said.

“What?”

“You heard me, mother. We fight this thing as a family.”

The thing smiled. His blood red eyes looked right at me. He licked the blood off his recently used killer hook. It was obvious that this was one psychopath who thoroughly enjoyed his work.

“You said you didn’t come alone,” I said.

“Indeed, brave child. I couldn’t have possibly made this personal appearance without a little help from my friends.’

“Who might they be?” I asked.

“They are here now, invisible but they are legion.”

“The demons,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “The demons that haunt this very cursed house of yours.”

“So, the demons put a curse on this house to make my parents oblivious to all the terrible, evil things of Emityville.”

“No,” said Williamson.

“No?” I asked.

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“Understand what?” I asked.

“There is no curse on your family, it’s just on the house itself,” he said.

“Okay, then why do Mom and Dad act like this?”

“Oh, I guess because your parents are fucking idiots.”

Dad was brave and in control and I was stunned by this. He looked at the fiendish burned pedophile with great anger.

“The demons that dwell here in this damned house. They are the ones who give you this power, am I right?”

“You are,” he answered.

“Good. Put them in me and let all hell break lose.”

“Fair enough, old man. They have wanted you to be possessed by them since you moved in.”

“My faith kept them away until now.”

“No, your stupidity kept them away and bewildered until now.”

“Bring it on, low life.”

They came out of the fiend, one by one. They were bright colors, typically red. Occasionally they appeared as shadows on the wall but not too many. Most were as brightly red as lava or more to the point, the fires of hell. The child molesting monster had a hellish smile on his face. My father screamed in horror as the last of the devil’s minions took over his body.

“Time to pay rent, bitches,” said demon possessed Dad.

“How does this story end?” Mom asked.

“Well, Dad will want to hunt us down and kill us with an ax. That sounds like how the rest of this would go if it was a horror story.”

“Yes of course it does,” she said.

Dad already had an ax in hand and smiled an evil grimace. The fiend who was brought back and out of the children’s nightmares smiled back at dad. It was as if he knew his mission had been fulfilled.

“I don’t like you,” said Dad.

“Why would you say that?”

“A miserable little child pervert does not deserve a resurrection.”

The fiend had a look of terror on his face. This was probably the first time since he was burned alive that he had this experience of panic and fear. Dad’s skin was yellow and surprisingly not from cirrhosis. His eyes were as red as the horns of Satan himself must be down in the fiery pits.

“No!” screamed the fiend.

The thing’s head was cut off. It flung out the same window where two vampire bats had crashed through just mere moments before.

“Now, let me finish the business the master has been demanding of me. I held back using the weapons of ignorance and drunkenness. Now the time has come to pay the piper with the blood of my family.”

“Please, honey.”

“You first, honey. You spend way too much fucking time making those dinner rolls!”

Desperate for a solution I went upstairs and brought out the family bible. I wasn’t sure if it would work or not. I held it in front of dad and he laughed.

“Why would that stop me?”

“Dad, that’s our family bible,” I said.

“No, honey, it ain’t. The family bible was destroyed by the demons years ago when that priest tried to bless this house. I think you remember Father Steiger. He killed himself shortly after leaving our happy little home.”

“You knew about that?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Then whose holy book is this?”

“That’s The Book of Mormon, doesn’t work against demons,” said Dad. “I told you to get rid of it the first time those little Mormon pricks came…”

“Oh,” I responded.

“Well, let’s get mom now.”

“Get me first, you pathetic drunken fool. You excuse for a man.”

“Eh, doesn’t bother me.”

“Fine then, your demonic legion is the worst excuse for evil spirits I’ve ever seen. Fairies are more frightening than you guys are!”

That did it. Demon possessed drunken Dad followed me up the stairs with axe in hand. Mom screamed behind him but was apparently quite safe for the moment. I climbed up on the roof after leaving out an upstairs window. It was pouring rain. The thunder and lightning was dreadful. Dad followed me up.

“I can’t do this,” said Dad.

“You must do this. You must obey,
”
said the demons.

Dad took a leap at the weather vane just as the thunder struck it. He was electrocuted instantly and died. My mother cried. I heard her behind me. She hugged me and then went to my father’s dead body. I know they say lightening never strikes twice but you have to remember that we’re the Hoopers.

“Goodbye, honey, I love you…”

Mom knew she was going to die in the same manner as my father. My Dad who bravely fought the demons, he was a hero. Mother probably didn’t actually kill herself but she had long talked about how much she wanted to leave this world however her great love, my father did. She got her wish and in an odd way, so did I. My Mom and Dad will always be remembered in my mind as great people now. My father fought demons and my mother never stopped loving my Dad. The storm stopped and the rain ceased. There was another storm. The endless tears coming down my face could rival the worst rainfall. The lesson here is to be grateful for whatever you have… that is assuming Mom and Dad never hurt you on purpose. Someday all Moms and Dads are gone and if you are lucky enough to outlive them, you never get over it. I know that I will give birth to another insane child, passing on the Hooper genes. Passing our madness to another generation is my burden. One of my brothers is dead and the other can’t reproduce as far as I know. A funny thought entered my head. I was wondering if vampires could reproduce.

“No, of course we can’t but we can make other vampires.”

“I turned around and it was my brother, the vampire.

“I can read minds. We always could. The master taught me that.”

“Where is your master now?”

“Believe it or not, he’s buying a large boat. He wants to kill that shark before we go. The rumors that he could not do so always bothered him.”

My brother knew I was never going to be a vampire because I wanted to be a mother someday. Someday I will be gone but now you know my story. It’s quite an unbelievable story, too, isn’t it? My child will have a lot to swallow with Mom’s life story. Perhaps I will write down more events that have transpired here. What do you suppose Dad’s story would be like as a book?

SOME REVELATIONS

“A revelation should be revealing.”

—Martin Luther

“When Gregor Samsa awoke from troubled dreams one morning he found that he had been transformed in his bed into an enormous bug.”

—Franz Kafka
“The Metamorphosis”

We Americans… we curse God and question his existence with a huge mouthful of food! That’s the American way. When we’re not stuffing our faces or bombing other countries we’re bitching mercilessly about our parents who fucked us up so very badly. Our childhoods weren’t proof that utopia really exist. We are also generous to a fault and the envy of the entire world until we fuck it up again. We fuck up so bad that the rest of the world will laugh. The laugh will be huge and we will be picking up the tab. The joke’s on us.