Halloween Nights: Tales of Autumn Fright by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Collections & Anthologies, Halloween
Published: 2021-09-21T05:00:00+00:00

Mr. Flexxo Discontinued

Sheri Sebastian-Gabriel

A vampire, face stark-white, night-black hair slicked, cape draped over a forearm pirouetted on the stage.

My name is Mr. Drac, and I’m oh-so-smooth, I like to drink blood, and in the night I move—

‘Round the town to sneak a bite or two. Better watch out, or I might eat you!

Jerry’s jowls sank into his fist. Every goddamned year, these kids rapped and danced and jumped around, and every goddamned year, his agitation ticked up. He sucked in a breath, another one of Salvato’s helpful little tools to manage his unwavering animosity towards mankind, drawing with it the aroma of sugar cookies, Hi-C, and the urethane coating the auditorium floor. A quick glance around the room illustrated how alone he was in his opinion. Cotton-white heads bobbed up and down as veiny, liver-spotted hands clapped. Efferdent smiles gleamed with adoration. A muted cacophony of chuckles kicked up in waves across the room. Jerry felt the pulse at the side of his neck ratchet up as the kid took a bow and trotted off stage right, only to be replaced by a bounding werewolf.

A blonde, overcaffeinated Wenville Elementary School teacher gripped the microphone and chirped, “Up next, is that a full moon I see? That can only mean one thing!”

The hirsute brat bayed at the rafters, and Jerry huffed.

“You okay, Mr. Jansen?”

Jerry jerked his head toward Pete Salvato, dressed in a shit-brown suit, perfectly suited for his full-of-shit psychobabble and touchy-feely BS. All Jerry needed was a cold beer and to be left alone, but this Salvato guy wouldn’t hear of it. The most Jerry could muster in reply was a low growl.

“I think you’ll feel better when the kids come by for candy,” Salvato said, rattling the neon-orange pumpkin filled with fun-sized Snickers, Milky Ways, and Reese’s peanut butter cups. “You can’t be sad watching kids at Halloween. It simply isn’t possible.”

Salvato peeled a gold-wrapped Reese’s, popped it into his mouth, and smiled as his teeth sank into the candy. He waggled his eyebrows and wandered off to dispense emotional woo-woo to some other unfortunate soul, leaving Jerry to marvel at the parade of costumed kids. He absently traced the silver scar that trailed from his upper lip to his chin.

A round-faced kid in a skeleton getup cartwheeled across the stage. It creaked and boomed under the weight of the procession of princesses, monsters, and caped crusaders that followed. Coos and awwwws reverberated off the auditorium walls. Jerry’s face twisted into a lemon-sour grimace. He pressed his hands into the aluminum table and turned his head toward the retina-burning exit sign. The siren song of the stiff, waxy July 1994 Playboy tucked into his mattress called to him. All he wanted was to escape this hokum and kick back with his naughty girl pictures and a few nips of the spiced rum he kept in a Mason jar on the TV stand. That motivation cranked his neurons and pulled him to his feet.

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