I Demand An Answer!
And what I want to know is: Who’s Been Pranking the Undead?
Here’s a sample:
“Hello? Anybody? Is anybody there? A little help, please?”
Hector heard the voice calling for help coming from the girls’ bathroom. He jerked his head around wildly looking for anyone besides himself that could lend a hand in this situation. Hector didn’t relish the idea of entering the ladies room.
“Huh…Hello?” he called out tentatively. “Is- Are you all right?”
“Hello?” the voice shot back. “Oh thank goodness! Are- are there any girls out there with you?”
“No, sorry. It’s just me. Sorry,” Hector apologized again. Why was he apologizing? She was the one asking for help.
“Oh…” The voice sounded disappointed. “Well, look… This is really embarrassing.” Oh, jeez, Hector thought. “You have to promise not to laugh.”
That was a promise Hector could keep. There was nothing funny about this situation. Hector felt the first phantom twinges of a psychosomatic asthma attack. He wished he could still carry his inhaler. Even just for a placebo effect.
“Sure. I mean, I promise. Sorry,” Stop apologizing!
The voice shouted again, this time in an embarrassed stage whisper. “There’s… there’s no toilet paper in here.”
Oh, my God. Hector nearly passed out. It was even worse than he thought. If this girl was embarrassed, Hector was mortified.
“Okay,” Hector tried to weasel his way out of this predicament. “I’ll go find the janitor.”
“No! Wait!” the mysterious bathroom voice pleaded. “I’m sure there’s some in the next stall over. Can’t you just hand me a roll?”
“Eep” was the only noise Hector could make at that suggestion.
“But no peeking!” the voice commanded.
“Sorry! No! I mean- I didn’t I-I-I-I wasn’t-”
Hector was about to run away. Let someone else take care of it. But he imagined himself, trapped in a public stall, friendless and alone. Cold, too. No one there to help and… and a soggy bottom…
Get a hold of yourself, Hector! Just grab some toilet paper and get the hell out of there. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t even look. You’ll never know who it was. She’ll never know it was you.
Hector screwed his eyes shut and pushed his head through the door. It always amazed him that he was immaterial enough to phase through solid walls, yet his eyelids were somehow able to keep light from reaching his retinas.
As he pushed his way through the door, his sheets clung to the wood, trailing loftily behind him. His chains crashed and jangled on the tiled floor.
“Oh the chains,” Hector whispered miserably. “What a dead giveaway.”
“What’s that?!” Demanded the trapped girl. “What are you saying? Don’t look! No looking! Close your eyes!”
“Sorry! They’re closed! They’re closed!” Hector protested his innocence.
“Just feel your way to the other stall. No peeking!”
Easier said than done, Hector thought. His outstretched hands would simply phase right through the stall door, never alerting him when he had arrived. Would he feel it? He didn’t know! Somehow, his incorporeal lungs started to flap faster and more raggedly.
Hector heard a soft swish behind him near his feet. Then girl’s laughter, slowly deepening into a boy’s. Hector jerked around, snapping his eyes open, but at just that moment he heard a hand slapping the wall. The bathroom lights went out. The door slammed shut and Hector heard the trailing voice of the trickster as he ran down the hallway calling for the principal, “Mr. Fishman! Mr. Fishman! There’s a boy in the girls room!”
Oh dear sweet merciful Lord no! Hector prayed. He made a mad dash for where he calculated the door to be and ran smack into a wall.
Hector fell to the floor with a thud. His face pounded. He felt like he’d broken his nose. Was that possible? He reached to his face and felt warm, oozing ectoplasm dripping down his lips and chin. Did ghost bones heal? Would he be stuck with a bleeding, crooked nose for all of eternity? And what had he run into?
Hector, bleeding, alone in the darkness, awaiting the wrath of the principal, began to sob quietly.
As always, if you’d like to get started with the Monster Exchange Program series, you can pick up issue 1, Blob Fits In, by clicking here!
- Hector, The Booty Supervisor (nathanieltapley.com)