Grand Palms Funeral Parlor
1023 Words
When the trunk opened, Harold stabbed. The goblin stepped back.
"That's so cute." he said, "It's like a tiny tiny knife. And dull." He pointed his gun at Harold's head. "Get out, and no more funny business."
"Dang it. Okay, give me a hand."
"Nope." the goblin said. "I may have been born on a day, but it wasn't yesterday. You've already tried to stab me once."
It took Harold more than one try, and he returned Slayer to his pocket after the first failure.
"Stop it." Bethany told him, "You're mangling the suspension springs. Here, take -"
WHACK!
"Ow, Vincent. What the hell?"
"He's a stabber."
Bethany shook her hand. "Words, brother. We communicate through words."
"Not always. Sometimes we have to punch Marcus in the throat."
She rolled her eyes. "If he'd think about his turns instead of play on his cell phone during family games, we wouldn't have to."
"Yeah, and if water didn't fall from the sky, we wouldn't have a word for rain."
Vincent's gun came up before Harold had finished the step. "Just because I get stupid with family doesn't mean I'm going to get stupid with you. Get walking. White door."
"It's locked." Harold said, upon reaching it.
"Two steps that way. Bethany, keys."
"I thought you had the keys."
"Bethany, I swear, if you locked the keys in the car again, I'm emptying this clip into you."
"YOU unlocked the trunk with them, douche!"
"You don't even use those yet!"
"I know what they are, you..." she shoved him.
He shoved back, and held the gun out toward her toppled form. Away from Harold.
"That is your sister!" Harold said, suddenly offended.
"What?" Vincent asked. "You want to hit her, too?"
Slayer of Men said. "Wrath."
"You will... stop... oh." Harold said, trying to threaten Vincent with his sword. His sword that was no longer the size of a pocket knife. His sword that pierced Vincent easily, sliding into him like ... It was too easy, Harold realized, to stab someone.
The gun dropped to the lawn from Vincent's suddenly limp fingers.
"Mom!" Bethany shouted. "DAD!"
"What have I done?" Harold asked, pulling the sword from the corpse.
"You have FINALLY killed your first being in anger." Slayer of men said. "Quickly, quickly, your second! She's getting away."
And she was. "Oh god." Harold said, suddenly bending over to puke. It wasn't much, and was over quickly. When it was done, he realized Slayer was shouting in his mind.
"What do you mean now, now what?"
Harold did so, pulling into the lot of a nearby Piggly Wiggly to park.
"Calling an uber, getting some breath mints, and spending some time in their restroom." he said.
"Pretty much."
"Ssh. Public place."
A lady wearing curlers in her hair walked out. "Son, that shirt is ruined. Be careful when changing the oil in the future."
Harold looked down where Vincent's blood had splattered on him. It looked like dirty motor oil, and smelled like sewage. He made a run for the men's room, where his stomach had found a tiny bit more vomit to release.
He ended up paying the Uber driver two minutes to wait for him, as he swapped out his shirt for a white undershirt, and stuffed his bloody clothes into storage bags. Tyler seemed more tired than upset, and gladly took him home without speaking to him.
Princess was going insane, Harold noticed from the curb. As he approached his front door, the reason became apparent. A grungy Apple was curled up on his welcome mat, hands over her face. A normally floppy ear shot upward at his approach.
"Yeah. I should have warned you. Princess doesn't like company until she's gotten to know them. Poor girl's probably starving." Harold said.
"Does she eat lagomorph?"
"I'm pretty sure not. She seems to prefer beef and chicken."
"I. I'd. I'd like to use that shower, if you don't need it first." she managed.
"There's one upstairs that you can use." Harold said. "Come on in."
"The goblin? Did you kill it?" she asked. "I don't mean to be rude; you smell of its blood."
"I did." Harold said. "If that's a deal-breaker-"
"It's not." Apple said. "Unless... I mean, unless it is for you."
"I don't know how I feel about it." Harold said. "Honestly, I just want to shower, eat something, and fall asleep."
"I know that feeling." Apple said, rising. "Sometimes it feels like I live there."
Harold had to spend several minutes calming Princess (Apple had started her shower) before she popped up from his lap and lay down on the floor facing her dish and empty water bowl. "Yeah, I know, Princess. Too many late nights, hasn't it been?"
But she seemed happy to lap at her water rather than admonish him.
There was a knock at the door. "Police." a voice said. "We'd like to speak with you, sir."
Harold almost unlocked the door without looking. They looked human, and wore police uniforms. He swung the door open. "How may I help you, officers?"
"Sir, there were reports of someone kidnapping you at gunpoint? Could you come down to the station and answer some questions?"
"I'm really VERY tired, officers. Could I come in tomorrow?"
"It might be better for you to come now, sir. While the memories are fresh."
"Sure." Harold said, "Just let me get into a clean shirt."
He made certain to let Apple know what was happening, and that he was locking her in and turning on the security system. "No problems, now, Princess." he told her.
She licked her lips and said nothing.
"Did your guest witness the events in question, sir?" the officer asked.
"No, officer." Harold lied. "She wasn't home at the time."
It was a short drive to the local police station.
- Writer
