Strange Brain Parts
short stories by Allan Hatt
Copyright 2011 Allan Hatt
Smashwords Edition
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Table Of Contents:
Monsters In Mirrors
An E.T. Named Sue
The Big Leftover Whatever
Divine Interpretation
Afterwords
Monsters In Mirrors
I go down to the basement and there's my sister making out with Frankenstein's monster.
Rushing forward from the staircase I reach out, grab one of them bolts sticking out of its neck and give it a good pull. The monster groans in pain and slaps at my arm. The skin on my arm goes red where his fingers and palm smack me. Hurts to hell and back, but I don't let go.
I give the neck bolt a twist. The monster rolls off of my sister in agony. I see nothing but white scars on its naked chest.
Susie, my sister, yelling now.
"Goddammit, Stevie! What the hell are you doing? What the hell do you think you're doing?"
She don't seem to care her boobs are falling out of her unbuttoned top. She's just a ball of mad, kicking her legs at me, trying to get some hurt in.
“This ain't right, Susie," I say back, letting go of the bolt on the monster's neck so I can avoid her kicks.
“The hell you know from right?" she screams out.
The monster gets to his feet. He ain't looking too worse for the wear. But he ain't looking all that happy about having his neck bolt twisted neither.
I pull a lighter out of my pocket and flick it at him. He gets the message and backs away. It’s a well-known fact that monsters got the fear of fire. He keeps backing away from me. Looking at me. Palms up. Grotesque fucking fingers open wide. Fingers that might've been...
I fight back thinking of them fingers in Susie's crotch.
"Stevie, you asshole," says Susie. She starts putting her clothes on again. Not out of modesty, but because she's all tangled up in them. Might even want to give me the boots if the monster doesn't do it first.
The monster's making these sick sounds. No words. Just gurgling groans and shit. Trying to reason with me even though he ain't got a voice.
Dumb fuck. Dumb fucking monster.
I grab a newspaper out of the recycle pile and roll it up. Then I set it on fire and ram it at the monster. He bolts up the basement stairs and out the door onto the street in a flash. Flailing arms. Groaning in fear. I watch him run in the direction of his home, heading for the castle. Frankenstein's castle.
I run up the basement stairs and lock the basement door before Susie reaches the top of the stairs. She bangs on the door and yells insults and threats at me. I ignore her and get on the telephone. Word spreads fast. A little over an hour later about eighty of us storm Frankenstein’s castle with torches, rakes and fists. We grab whatever can be used as a weapon.
A good-sized mob with a head full of hate, off to kill a girlie-raping monster. Least that's what I told them happened. The monster raped my sister and all. Maybe that’s a little lie, all things considered, but I figure it’s one they all want to believe anyway. No one likes monsters. Can't trust them. They shouldn't be out on the street with us normal folk. And they sure as hell shouldn’t be lying with our women like real men.
It ain't long before the castle is in flames.
We watch.
Nothing comes out of the castle except some sounds we can't place.
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