Everyday Horrors by Steve Rasnic Tem

Author:Steve Rasnic Tem [Tem, Steve Rasnic]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, dark fantasy, short stories
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2024-10-13T00:00:00+00:00

Monkeys

All of a sudden it were morning, and Maude couldn’t hear herself think what with all the rattling carriages going about. She swore some days all that metal on stone shook the nerves right out of her, and she had to scream inside her head to rid herself of the sound. Most mornings she weren’t up to dick. She needed breakfast and a drink, but mostly a drink. Drink enough and you didn’t think too much about the state of your belly.

Polly offered her some bow wow mutton and the little she had left from her pint. Maude thought she’d have to spit that foul mutton out but knew she shouldn’t, less she pass out in the street. Besides, Polly were her chuckaboo, and Maude didn’t want to be rude. Polly’d talk your ear off, a real church bell, but if Maude weren’t too drunk she liked to listen. She didn’t have nobody else to talk to these days, and Polly was kind. Yesterday she give Maude a bag o’ mystery right from her pocket and Maude was grateful to eat it. She learned a lot about goings on in the Chapel from dear sweet Polly. And she trusted what Polly told her. She knew Polly wouldn’t sell her no dog.

“You best watch yourself, Sweetie,” Polly said after their eating was done. “The Ripper got another Judy last night. Mary Kelly, member her? We used to see her at the Queen’s Head. They say he butchered her like a pig. Tore up every sweet piece.”

“Oh, Polly. Folks is always throwing the hatchet. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” But even as she spoke, Maude believed ever last word.

Maude needed fortification, so she searched the place till she found Old Charlie, who always seemed to have a bottle on him by whatever means. It didn’t take much cuddling to get him to give it up. That, and a quick peek at her crinkum-crankum. Still, she didn’t want to cheat him, so she give him a little of her quail-pipe. Then he played some with her kettle drums till he passed out again.

By the time Maude got outside the doss she was surely half-rats, and on her way to being tight as a boiled owl. It were a fine start to her day. There was a small crowd a few steps down. One of them foreigners had his self an ape. No, a monkey. Maude seen one before, not that long ago. Oh, he’d done all manner of tricks, that one. He wore a little red military hat—he was quite the gentleman, bowing to all the whores. Then later she reckoned he’d had too much to drink, and went after their faces. Now the coppers muscled them out, if they saw them, them and all them other animal acts. Most of them foreigners with their singing dogs and dancing monkeys and painted pigs. Some mores had canaries doing clever things, some mores had mice.

She didn’t blame the monkey because of the drink. Only a put would give an animal a drink, not to mention it were a sad waste of liquor.

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