The thumping sound of the beating music makes my head pound, but then again, it could be because my head is no longer attached to my body. “What in the world happened?” I wonder, looking around as far as my eyes could see, “Wait, how in the world am I still able to breathe!”
Suddenly, the music stops and the screeching sound of an electric saw in the distance makes the last moments of my existence as an upright walking man flash before my bodiless eyes . . .
TONIGHT’S CROWD WAS TYPICAL, A beautiful busty blonde sitting in the front row rolling her tongue across her glossy red lips in hopes of scoring a famous comic, a bald guy sitting in the middle of the room trying to impress the one night stand he’d hired for the evening and some faceless joker in the back who I’m sure will be tonight’s heckler. “Little do they know, I’m Henry Jive and I’m the best comic alive!” I say to myself, tapping on the microphone.
The crowd burst out in laughter when I tell the faceless dark shadow in the back if his Mama hadn’t been a two bit whore, perhaps, he’d have been someone important like me. I wait for the usual heckler response; only the dark figure doesn’t say a word. Instead, it stands up, bows, and exits the room. “Oh well, there will be another one tonight to pick on, there always is.” I think.
As soon as the D.J. says, “Last call for alcohol,” over the intercom I willingly stop kissing the smoky tasting lips of the one night stand the bald guy left behind and head for the exit door. I shove my way through the steel doors, ignoring her pleas to come back and kiss her again. Instead, I head straight toward the love of my life, a 1969 Impala, in all her red glory.
I fire up the engine and press on toward home when a strange feeling overcomes me. You know the kind you get when you know someone is watching you, but you can’t see them. I look over my right shoulder into the darkness and then into the left side mirror. Relieved, I turn up the music and press on the gas.
“How’s this for funny?” The voice shouts from behind. Afraid to look in the review mirror, I slam on the brakes in hopes of throwing whoever is stalking me in the darkness through the windshield. The next thing I feel is a sharp pinch in the side of my neck before the lights fade.
Waking to the bright lights above I see a dark figure to my right, “Who are you and what do you want?” I manage to mumble. Without answering, the figure turns and walks away. Struggling to free myself from the tight restraints, I hear voices in the distance, “Hello, is someone there?” I shout. The silence becomes deafening.
Opening my eyes I stare into the piercing blackness of his mad eyes, “I thought you were dead?” I whisper. “I hoped you would.” He says, speeding up the power saw, “You know it was quite funny tonight when you joked about my mother being a two bit whore,the same mother who gave birth to you.” He shouts. “Maybe if I had a rich man to be my daddy I could have gone to a real medical school to become a doctor. Instead, I have no choice but to practice my theory of regeneration on live bodies and you, my brother, shall be my first victim!”