There’s Blood…Everywhere

“There’s blood everywhere,” I say, doubling over as Pepsi and warm stomach fluid hit the ground like a blanket slapping the floor. “Wait, slow down,” Margo says, gesturing. “There… there’s blood…in the gas station…everywhere.” “You went to pay?” “—and the clerk is fuckin’ dead as fuck!” “Have you taken’ your meds…?” “Just go look for

The Franklins’ Haunted Mansion (Part One)

“Nice ah, mansion, dad,” Tara says, popping her bubblegum. “Hey,” I say, raising then lowering my arms, “I said it needed some, well, some work.” “Yeah, you said a little work. Little is the keyword, dad.” “So, I was a little off.” “Eeeew, I’m not fuckin’ stayin’ here, dad?” “Would you rather sleep there?” I

Evil Ice Cream Truck Driver

“What flavor you want, ma’am?” I ask. “I’ll take an ice cream sandwich.” “Those, yeah. We got some,” I say, darting my eyes either way and licking my lips on the sly. “Doin’ this as a full-time job, dude?” the woman asks. Heat races through my face, and my palms turn cold to the touch. Think

A Robbery On Christmas. (“I need cash for my kids’ gifts!”)

“Move, and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” Jodie said, holding a 9 millimeter to the clerk’s head. “This is a robbery. Give me all your money.” The clerk licks her finger, turning pages in a Vogue magazine. “Let me finish reading the last paragraph.” “Did you hear me?” Jodie asks. “Look, lady,” the clerk says, “My