Home from the Vinyl Cafe by Stuart McLean

Author:Stuart McLean
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: SOC035000
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2005-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Phoning a family at two in the morning to ask if they would mind dropping over to pick up their child because you have just shown him Night of the Zombie is not the easiest thing in the world to do. But Dave had no choice. It didn’t take longer than fifteen minutes for the parents to begin to arrive. Everyone was polite, but Dave knew what they were thinking. They were thinking their kids would never come to this house again. Certainly not on a sleepover.

When Terrence’s parents came, Terrence said, “I ate meat. I ate meat. They made me do it.”

“It was textured vegetable protein,” said Dave glumly. “It just looked like meat.”

Everyone was gone by two-thirty.

All except Walter Colbath.

Walter was a thin boy with a perpetually runny nose. He was always worried that someone was breaking the rules.

Walter Colbath’s parents weren’t home. Or if they were, they weren’t answering the phone.

“Maybe they turned the ringer off,” said Dave. “You just stay. They’ll be here in the morning.”

Walter said okay, and Sam and Walter, the last remaining warriors, headed off to bed together, Walter chewing his nails. Finally, the house was quiet.

Dave had just drifted off to sleep when Sam appeared by his side, poking him, saying, “Walter is crying. He thinks there’s been a fire at his house and his parents are dead.”

At three-thirty Dave agreed to drive Walter by his house so he could see that it hadn’t burned to the ground.

“You don’t have to get dressed,” said Dave as he struggled into a raincoat. “We’re not going to stop. We’ll just drive by. Just put on a sweatshirt over your jammies. And your sneakers.”

It was chilly outside. Dave had to turn on the wipers to clear away the dew.

“Please, God,” he said quietly as they rounded the corner. “See?” he said. “Your house is still standing. No fire.” He still didn’t know why the Colbaths weren’t picking up the phone.

“Maybe they’ve been murdered,” said Walter. “By a zombie or something.”

“Your mom and dad are up north,” said Morley to Walter softly. He and Dave had woken her when they got back. “They’re coming home tomorrow.”

“I know,” said Walter. “But I’m afraid that the zombie got them.”

Morley looked at Dave. She put her arm over Walter’s shoulder and said, “You come here with me. You can sleep with us in here.”

When Dave woke up at six-thirty, it was with Walter Colbath’s feet sticking in his back. Walter was sleeping diagonally across the bed, his feet drilling into Dave’s kidneys, his head where Morley’s should have been. Morley was nowhere to be seen.

Dave got up and went downstairs. Morley was snoring softly on the living room couch.

Dave went into the kitchen and put some coffee on. He went to the front door and picked up the morning paper.

He looked at Arthur, who still had chocolate smeared around his mouth, and said, “What was the point of all that?”

The dog seemed to shrug.

“Pride before a fall,” muttered Dave as the coffee began to sputter.

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