Demons and Other Inconveniences

DEMONS AND OTHER INCONVENIENCES

A series of scaries written by Dan Dillard

..ooOOoo..

For mom,

I think she would have loved this.

And for my wife, Stephanie, whose nightmares wake us both.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS AND NOTES:

This book has been heavily revised because the first time I published it, I was impatient and foolish and even at 40+ years old, I haven’t learned to only put my best work up for review. I feel certain there are mistakes left behind, and those are my fault, but I am learning, and I hope I never stop.

Thanks go to everyone in my family, and to the others who helped, laughed, and especially to those who said I couldn’t do it. You know who you are. And thank you to all the nightmares, shared or personal, all the odd and wonderful characters I have met, all the books from people with names like Bradbury, King, and Matheson and some much lesser known…films from those with names like Carpenter, Craven, and Friedkin. To all the newer names who are carrying on the tradition… There are countless others. I hope I do them all proud.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2010, 2016 by Daniel P. Dillard

ISBN: 978-1-4523-8705-5

License notes:

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, , without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. If you’re reading this and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The List of Scaries

Rolling Meadows

Pig Man

Confessions

The Trash Menagerie

Infestation of the Third Kind

indiviDUALITY

Anticipation

Geometry

Ingrate

Amber Alert

My Mind’s Eye

The Wrong Place

Never Judge a Book

The Frank Diary of Anne

Unlucky in Death

Rotten Luck

The Demon of Walker’s Woods

..ooOOoo..

IT’S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU

I speak to your children at night while they sleep.

The scars that I leave can’t be seen, but they’re deep.

Terrible visions comprise my attack.

I paint them in shades, both crimson and black.

They scream in their dreams seeking shelter and warmth.

I tear off the roof, raining down in a swarm.

Shivers are what I provide, to be clear.

Disease, discomfort, displeasure and fear.

I lurk in the shadows and wait for their sigh.

It releases their tension, their longing to cry.

Boiling and swirling I hide underneath,

In an instant I face them, sharp claws and fanged teeth.

The shrieks give me pleasure and feed my dark heart.

My frightening methods take patience and art.

My success will be measured in blood, sweat and tears.

I’ve taken great pride in my thousands of years.

A figment of sorts, now your safety is fleeting,

My powers grow stronger with each nightly meeting.

I’ll show you true horror and fill you with lies.

Friends call me Nightmare. Now please, close your eyes.

..ooOOoo..

ROLLING MEADOWS

THE FOLLOWING is true.

Mostly true. Well, if you drive down a certain highway in southeastern North Carolina, you will find a nursing home plopped down right next to a travel agency…and nothing else in either direction for miles. Weird? Not in the south.

The rest is pure speculation, but it might be true. It might just be close enough.

12:00pm Monday.

ROLLING MEADOWS, it says on the sign. You may as well call it A Great Place to Die and just be done with it. I should disown this sorry, ungrateful shit for planting me here. That’s what he’s doing, planting. That’s what you do with vegetables, right? But I ain’t a vegetable yet. I can still kick his ass if I need to, but it wouldn’t do any good. He’d still be an ungrateful shit, but he’d be an ungrateful shit with a sore ass.

The drive out was boring and tedious, but at least it was long. There were two whole lanes of traffic to watch, all of it hugged by trees that went on for miles it seemed. We pulled in to park and the first thing I saw was the other wooden sign. The one with the palm tree and big orange sun carved into the corner underneath that stupid name. Plane and Simple Travel.

I hoped that was where we were going. I’d have spent my life savings to ship my wrinkled ass to Tahiti or Maui. One of those places where I could die an old drunk with a grin on my face, a cocktail in one hand and some bikini-clad jailbait in the other. My heart would give out before my funds, but that’s not to be the case. No, we’re next door at the heart attack hotel where my ungrateful shit of a son will leave me as he proclaims, ‘it’s for the best, Pop.’

Rolling Meadows. Shit.

Who puts a travel agency next to the Alzheimer Estates anyway? It’s a sick joke if you ask me. The sickest joke I can think of. Bastards. Maybe the Plane and Simple folks will book me a trip to the graveyard so I don’t have to hang out too long. Then we can call this a very annoying layover. Like a stop in Indiana or maybe Wisconsin.

As they shuffle me through the front double doors to the center of the building, I smell it. This place stinks like sour breath, institutional food and piss. Welcome home, Jimmy.

The shit walks to the reception desk which is guarded by a flabby woman wearing an ugly set of scrubs. They’re covered with ducks or some such nonsense. They start with the usual pleasantries which will no doubt end with my incarceration.

Mr.? she says looking at my son. She draws the word out, holding the errr as if it might pull the answer out of his mouth.

Come to think of it, he isn’t ungrateful. In fact, I’m sure he’s very grateful. Grateful to be unloading the old man on this shithole, grateful I’ll be swimming in a sea of blue hair and false teeth. I’ll be doing fucking crafts for fun and starting a betting pool over who dies next. I’d bet they play poker and ante with butterscotch pudding cups. I think I’ll make him a nice ashtray out of dried turds. It’ll look nice on his desk at the office.

Flabby is still holding the Misterrrrrr.

Aldridge. James Aldridge. I am his son, Bill. We have an appointment at 12:15, he answers.

Chubby duck lady peers over her glasses at a clipboard and smiles again. Her name plate says Lucy, but I prefer Chubby Duck Lady.

You sure do. Right here it is.

She looks back up at him, never me. I guess since I have no say in this matter, I have no say in this matter.

If you’d follow me into the parlor, I can get you started on paperwork and then the administrator, Dr. Williams, will be by to introduce herself.

Great. First I give up my house. Now, he drives me out to the middle of nowhere just like a stray dog nobody wants, and to top that—I’ve got to wait around in the parlor. Who the hell has a parlor anymore? Funeral homes, that’s who. And what’s the difference. Nothin’ but a bunch or corpses in here waiting around to get buried. Why couldn’t it be a sports bar? I could have a cold beer and annoy a busty cocktail waitress or something. I’m a breast man.

I know what that paper he’s filling out says. It’s asking for me to surrender my dignity and he’s going to hand it to them with a grin on his face.

Asshole.

Maybe if I shit myself they’ll put me in the special wing with the crazies and the vegetables. I can take drugs and get sponge baths from supple young nurses until I pass away. One lousy fall down the front steps and an old man is doomed to the linger-longer.

Hold the phone, who is this?

She’s tall, with her brown hair tied into a messy bun and she has her smart-glasses on. I love the brainy ones. Her name tag says ‘Williams’ if my eyes don’t deceive and is pinned to a silky blue blouse which to my utter joy is undone one button too far. Must be the boss-lady.

Hello all! I’m Dr. Williams. You must be the Aldridges. How can I help you today?

I could use a prostrate exam if you don’t mind. It’s a little chilly, but if it’s gotta be here, it’s gotta…

Dad!

Bill is such a pussy. I’m just trying to break the ice here is all. I’ve got to live with these people.

It’s quite all right, Dr. Williams says to him, Spirited, aren’t we Mr. Aldridge? to me.

She doesn’t even hint at a smile. I think she wants me. Who wouldn’t? There’s nothin’ sexier than a pissed off septuagenarian.

I can be if you like. Not as good as I once was, but as good once as I ever was.

I wink at her. Her lip curls up into the slightest of smiles, and just as I’d hoped, my dick curls right along with it. As good once as it ever was. Joyous, I wink at Bill. He is appalled. It looks good on him.

Dad!

Just like to see that hair down around those shoulders, I say.

Dad! he shrieks again. Pussy.

Well, we’ve established he knows who I am. Now if he’d just show some respect and take me home.

Its fine, she says to him.

Maybe, Mr. Aldridge, if you pay attention and behave, I’ll wear my hair down one day.

Now I get it. She’s playing me, a tease who likes to rev the old man’s engine just to watch me squirm. Either way this is the closest I’ve been to sex in better than ten years.

The doctor continues, You gentlemen can call me Jan.

She holds out her hand and I shake it gladly. Long thin fingers, well manicured nails and no wedding band. I might could live here after all. I introduce us since he is busy gawking at her cleavage. Can’t knock him for that.

Call me Jimmy. This is my son, Bill. We aren’t speaking right now. You can tell him I said ‘Go to hell’.

I won’t talk to that prick. These dizzy spells won’t make me forget he’s putting me here to die. It’s just as well. I couldn’t live with him or his prude wife. She has a huge ass and a constant look of disapproval on her face.

Jan smiles and looks at Bill. I’m sure he gets the message. Shall we take the tour? The rest of this paperwork can wait.

I nod and notice Bill is taking another look at her breasts. Dumbass. If I taught him anything, it was ‘don’t get caught staring’. If I noticed, surely she did. I hope she doesn’t think he gets his stupidity from me. That definitely comes from his mother’s side. She was a brilliant angel, God rest her—eight years she’s been gone—but the men in that family? Dense as forged steel.

Which side is the produce on? I ask.

That one got her. She turns, ready to scold me, and I’m just glad she gets the joke. That means we have similar senses of humor, even if she plays offended. Plus, I could use a good spanking.

They are people, Mr. Aldridge. They may be worse off than you are physically, but most of them are mentally superior. Of that I’m certain.

Touché. Smart. Witty. Sexy. If I was two years younger. Right, right, people. I know. I would just prefer to stay with folks who can still rock n’ roll if you know what I mean?

Her stern look softens a little and that wry smile is back. "I understand. It does take some getting used to, but rest assured, you will be living on the rockin’ side of the house. At least for now."

This sounds like sarcasm. Normally, I like sarcasm. I’m also smart enough to know this tour may be the longest amount of time I’ll ever spend with the luscious Dr. Jan. I watch her hind end wave as she walks. I miss most of what she says as my mind wanders in and out, in and out, in and out, but I get her drift.

The nickel tour wanders through a building that is shaped like a capital E. The bottom of the E being the produce department , and the place I will avoid like a fat girl at the prom. The center line of that E is where the entrance and public areas are located and the top line is for those of us who are here because our kids suck. There is a courtyard where the residents (I say convicts) can get some fresh air, away from the stink, and a dining room which resembles a prison mess hall or a high school cafeteria only with none of the joy or raging hormones. I personally can’t wait to watch them spoon feed the cabbages.

And this, Mr. Aldridge...

Jimmy, I interrupt.

I despise ‘mister’. Sounds formal. I’m not fuckin’ formal.

Okay, Jimmy. This will be your room. You’ll be alone here for now, but roommates are sometimes a necessity. My advice is to find someone here you’re compatible with and pair up. We’re quite accommodating in that regard.

Accommodating. That is a word I enjoy associating with the lady doctor. As I’m dreaming of her in skimpy lingerie, my miserable son chimes in with a laugh.

Compatible with him? he says.

She gives him eyes for the interruption and he clams up like a scolded child. Sheesh.

As I was saying, that might be somewhat easier than having a stranger assigned to you.

Is there a woman like you I could shack up with?

Silence, but I can feel my son’s eyes growing wide and bulging. Her face is stone.

I’ll take my chances, I say.

Grinning, I turn to show her my good side. Her smile is now clinical and courtesy, as if I’d just asked her on what aisle I might find the toilet paper. Maybe I should throttle back on the charm.

"Okay then, I’ll leave you two alone so you can settle in. It was interesting to meet you, Jimmy. Bill, we’ll be in touch."

With that she is gone, leaving me alone with him.

Dad, it’s not so bad here. I think you’ll be just fine.

Fuck you, I say.

I’m trying to help. I don’t know what else to do for you. We don’t have room at the house and I want you to be comfortable. I’m afraid of what might happen…

He’s trying to smooth things once again and I am staring at the wallpaper, still thinking about Jan in that lingerie. Leather and studs. She’s dirty. I can tell.

This is as good a place to die as any, I say.

Dad…

Just get my bags and let’s get on with it.

I fan him out the door and sit down on the bed. He doesn’t argue. The bed, if you can call it that, is lumpy and has rails like a hospital gurney. I guess that’s so when I can’t make it on my own, they can tube me up and roll me straight to the produce stand. Sitting on the bed, I get a look at my present and future surroundings. My home sweet home.

Ugly wallpaper with flowers. This ain’t no grown man’s room. If there’s a bright side, it is the following: There’s cable, my own shitter, and I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.

Bill returns, drops my bags and tries to hug me. I bob and weave like Ali or Holyfield or, hell, who even watches boxing anymore?

It’s awkward and silent for a moment and then he leaves. Once I’m sure he’s gone, I dig a paperback from my luggage and lie back. The pillow is nice, even if the bed is lumpy, and the Cussler western I’m reading plus the warm sun on my face put me right to sleep.

*****

Name’s Evie.

What? I’m taking a nap. It’s the first pleasant thing that’s happened to me since the ungrateful shit left and now somebody is gonna interrupt me? If it’s craft time, I’m going to choke someone. I sit up, feeling the aftermath of the lumpy mattress in my lower back.

No. Name’s Jimmy, I groan.

I’m Evie. You eat yet? she continues in an odd disconnected fashion.

No.

I sit up and lay my book aside.

Well, I thought you might like to meet some the other inmates. Maybe get some o’ that mess they trying to call supper. An zip your pants, will you?

Her voice is sharp, but her words are soft and slow, southern. And did she say inmates? A gal after my own heart. A black gal, too. Never tried a black woman but that’s more lack of access than personal preference. I zip my khaki putter pants—unsnapping and unzipping slightly is an old napping habit—and right my creaky old bones to ease off of the bed.

What are you in for? I joke.

Killin’ a white man.

The leathery dark skin on her face is wrinkly and as stern as a mother superior’s. Her eyes burn into mine. I haven’t been caught off guard like this in since the last time I got laid.

That’s a joke, son. Relax.

She pats me on the shoulder with her paper-skinned paw and attempts a smile. It looks more like pain. I shamble along beside her, wishing she’d pick the pace up and trying to decipher the odor coming from the dining hall. It’s not pleasant.

How old are you, Evie? I ask, trying to make conversation.

She wrenches her old neck around to eyeball me. I imagine she perfected this version of stink-eye about eighty years ago—perhaps even invented it. It is quite effective.

I’m probably yo’ great granny. Taught me plenty o’ white boys how to lay the pipe back in my day.

I stare for a moment before I can speak. I really want to hug you right now.

Do and you be drawing back a couple of stubs, Jimmy. I ain’t playing. She gives another agonizing smile. We are going to be fast friends.

So this is cruising Rolling Meadows main drag? This place is hoppin’. As I suspected, there are a couple nurses spoon feeding a carrot and a cucumber on the left. I hoped they would do that in the room, but I suppose it gets them out and amongst people. What had Doc Tits said? Mentally superior?

On the right there are just a few still-mobile folks braving the menu. They’d be doing us all a favor if they just put cyanide in the salt and pepper shakers. Looking at the platters on the tables, I see a meat substance, some green beans and a dinner roll. Drinks vary by their owners. Coffee is the only thing that smells good.

Evie takes her place at a round table which seats four. I sit across from her. In the third occupied space is a man with white hair and the thickest black eyebrows I have ever seen. His wheelchair tucks nicely under the table making it almost invisible. He nods.

How are ya’, partner? I say, staring at the plate set in front of me by a random orderly.

He sets another plastic tray in front of Eyebrows. I grimace at what passes for food as the orderly in the scrubs walks away to get another tray. Eyebrows says nothing, just the nod.

We calls him Andy, Evie says, filling me in.

Andy nods and smiles at the sound of his name. He picks at the food on his plate.

He’s from Greece. Don’t speak no English. That keeps him right quiet though, so I like him fine.

Hey there, Andy. I’m Jimmy, I say offering him a hand. Eyebrows shakes it and returns to quietly picking at his food.

Evie eats every bite chewing deliberately, but doesn’t say another word. I drink my coffee, eat my roll and wait for my life to end.

6:45 am Tuesday

This morning, I wake to the soothing sounds of Rhonda. Not The Beach Boys, just Rhonda. The first thing I notice about her through my blurry eyes is that she’s round. Not flabby like the duck lady, but round. Putting on my glasses doesn’t change the fact.

Can I help you? I rasp.

She peers at me with bitch, please all over her face. "No, honey. I’ve been cleaning