Stealth Robbery (Silverton Style)
October 3, 2015
Let Them Party to Relieve The Pain (Part II)
October 30, 2015
As the old cliche goes, “Now for something completely different.” Here’s a short story I wrote awhile ago that has a Halloween theme to it. The first part is being posted today, and part II will see the radiant light of blog publication on the 30th. Enjoy folks.
Word Count: 486
Let Them Party to
Relieve the Pain
“Sweet deal, Dan-O?” A huge smile spread across Miles’ face.
Daniel’s expression on the other hand portrayed skepticism. “Yeah, I suppose. Tell me again why this doesn’t smell like an overfilled dumpster?”
“Because it doesn’t. Just admit our luck has finally turned the corner? We’re about to move into a 2-bedroom, 3-bath, oversized dining room, awesome house. Best of all, the rent is only $300/month! I keep wondering how we rolled six’s. My back pain is already starting to disappear. Yours?”
“A little. Where’d you meet this woman?”
“Last Friday at that party, I spread the word we were looking to move. I describe our specs. by saying noise doesn’t bother us since we’re both grad students at USC-Charleston, therefore never around. We’re flexible about letting other people use the place too. I walk into the next room and presto-chango, this woman is standing in front of me.”
“Looking right at you?’
“I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles that she wasn’t there when I first walked into the room. The lady starts telling me about the sweet logistics.”
“And you’d never seen her before? She just begins asking if you’re interested in moving into a Civil-war-era Victorian in town,” Dan-O frowned. “I don’t know, sounds too good to be true. I keep asking myself what’s the catch.”
“Quit being a skeptic. That Dan-O moniker must have something to do with that Area-51, doubting Thomas outlook-on-life of yours,” joked Miles.
“No sir, my father called me Dan-O because he watched the 70’s version of Hawaii 5-0.”
“And you’re sure Dan-O doesn’t imply a paranoid government-conspiracy philosophy? You ever considered funeral home director as a career option?” Miles derived great joy from needling his buddy.
Dan-O looked disgusted. “Listen Miles, I’ll sign a lease, but that don’t stop me from being more skeptical than a teetotaler at a fraternity party.”
“Then it’s settled. We sign on the dotted line tomorrow. Start moving our gear in the front door soon after. Cool.”
“I suppose,” said Dan-O, his expression now changing from disgust to mild annoyance, and then outright indifference.
Dan-O had good reason to feel skeptical. The street address, #666 Dead-Wood Lane fit the place’s outward appearance-typical mid-1900’s Victorian, 3-stories, peeling paint, curtains that looked like they hadn’t been washed since they were sewn, and creaking shutters. Other features included a wrought-iron fence, dilapidated gable, run-down widow’s-walk on the roof, and the obligatory unkempt front yard. Basically your typical Poltergeist-type structure. Dan-O and Miles were moving into the sort of house that kids on Halloween dare each other to knock on the front door, and then run. Based of course upon a wager for your better chocolate bars. None of this hard candy garbage, or that health-food crap which sits at the bottom of your bag till mid-January when it’s discarded due to its fragrant aroma.
