A thread where i can post my stories? - let me know if i fucked up again, sorry

[littlestclown]

its good to be back (hopefully)
another story for you all


Averys Book Prequel

“Wakey Wakey Thomas Gazey!”

Thomas shot up from under his covers with fright. His heart was pounding, but he was relieved to see a concerned Kerns wearing a “Kiss the Cook” apron and Chef Hat.

“Woah you alright bud? Have a bad dream?”

Thomas nodded as he took deep breaths and tried to compose himself. He wiped the sweat away from his forehead, and noticed he was drenched in it.

“Mind if I ask what it was about?” Asked an earnestly concerned Kerns.

Thomas nodded his head once again.
“Sorry, it’s personal. It happens often. I worry about it, but you shouldn’t, it’s nothing really.”

“Something to do with your past then?”

Kerns was persistent, and a bit invasive at times, but Thomas was understanding. It was just Kerns nature, he didn’t mean anything by it. He nodded in response to Kerns.

“Sort of. It’s connected at least. But I worry it has something to do with my future. Do you know what I mean Kerns?”

Thomas turned to look back at Kerns for a response but he had already left to tend to the breakfast he was cooking. The smell of burnt eggs and bacon filled the air. Kerns liked them that way, or so he said.


It had been two weeks since Kerns had moved in. He had still not found a job.

Kerns shouted from the kitchen.
“You know what scares me shitless?”

Thomas threw on a shirt and made his way out of his room.

“What’s that kerns?”

“Dogs. Little ones, big ones, it don’t matter.”

“Is that so? Never met a dog you liked?”

Kerns wrinkled his ugly face up and shook his head at the pan with displeasure. He was sure of his answer.

“Nope. Never. I’ll do anything to get away from one.”

“What is it then? Scared of getting bitten? Bad experience as a kid?”

“Got raped by a dog as a kid.”

Thomas turned around and raised an eyebrow. Surely not. Kerns made a fake concerned face with his eyebrows raised. He nodded his head in attempt to get a reaction out of Thomas. This was just another example of Kerns’s awful sense of humor.

Thomas shook his head at kerns.

Kerns nodded his head more, in a final attempt to make Thomas laugh.

“Yup! Got raped in the ass! Couldn’t walk for days!! Ooh! That dog had a big dick! I was 3 years old.”

Kerns couldn’t hold back his laughter. The jig was up. Thomas shook his head and looked at the eggs on the counter. They were far past their expiration date. Thomas then noticed the smell of rancid egg past the burning and bacon smells.

“These eggs are bad Kerns.”

Kerns shook his head with certainty. “Oh eggs don’t go bad”

“I think they do, what’s that date there for.” Thomas pointed at the sell by date on the eggs. Kerns shook his head again.

“That’s sell by. That’s different.”

Thomas sniffed one of the eggs and held back throwing up. He tossed the rest into the trash. No one in their right mind would want this buffoon in their house, but Thomas felt drawn to kerns. He felt that there was something important yet to show itself, Kerns was a fool, but not an ordinary fool. Kerns reminded Thomas of the fool of the tarot deck. A man of infinite possibilities, a hero at the start of his journey. Even though kerns was already in his 50s, Thomas felt as if Kerns was packed to the brim with energy and knowledge, the latest of late bloomers, and what would come next would be something truly amazing.

Kerns farted.

“Excuse me!”

Thomas poured himself some coffee.
“You are not excused.”

Kerns laughed.
“So tell me Thomas, what are you scared of!” With this Kerns pointed a spatula covered in bacon grease at Thomas, launching a couple drops on him as well. Thomas wiped the grease off and answered.

“I can’t think of anything Kerns.”

“Spiders!”

Thomas smiled and shook his head.

“Vampires! Bats! Goblins!”

Thomas continued to shake his head and sip his coffee. Kerns made a face as if he was thinking as hard as he could. Almost like a child. He poured his bacon and eggs from the pan onto the plate and downed them in maple syrup. The mixture looked inedible.

“Whirlpools? Dragons? No... no I know!”

Kerns threw a piece of bacon into his mouth and began to crunch it quickly and loudly, trying to get out the answer he had just thought of. Thomas smiled and eagerly awaited kerns answer.

“Clowns!!”

The room began to vibrate to the point of becoming blurry for Thomas. He dropped his mug and held his head in pain. His eardrums were filled with the sound of thunder and rushing water. He felt himself scream in pain but couldn’t hear it. The episode was short however, and as it began to wind down he heard Kerns call his name and the room came back into view, Kerns was shoving burnt egg into Thomas’s mouth. The horrible taste had brought him back to reality. Thomas immediately vomited across the floor. After a couple of heaves Kerns patted Thomas on the back.

“It was clowns wasn’t it?”

Thomas was on all fours and gasping for breath, but he felt a lot better. He shook his head at Kerns.

“No, not clowns, nothing against clowns.”

This answer made kerns perk up.

“Good! People who are afraid of clowns, well, I’ve found them all to be really dull people, not to discriminate or anything.”

Thomas nodded his head.
“They’re bigots. Small minded.”

Kerns pointed a fork at Thomas and nodded in agreement as he chewed up his disgusting breakfast.

“Not smart people at all. And let me tell you, when I say smart, I don’t go by test scores, I don’t go by ACT. The kind of smart I go by can’t be measured like that, you know what I mean? People will go through life and win every academic award in the book, and then look you in the eye and tell you human animal hybrids are “laughable”? Tell me Thomas, does a person like that seem smart to you?”

Thomas shook his head.

Talk of human animal hybrids didn’t raise an eyebrow from Thomas anymore. That talk had become all too commonplace in his home. He had begun to respect these strange endeavors from Kerns, although on the inside he remained skeptical of how Kerns would accomplish this. That being said, Kerns had a background in research and academia, well, part of it was provable at least. Thomas had even fact checked a few of Kerns ramblings and would always find them to be extremely accurate, and the parts that weren’t provable in the books kerns had already proclaimed the ineptitude of other scientists, and made a good argument as to why the status quo was wrong. The more ridiculous part was all of Kerns talks of secret projects and files he wasn’t allowed to speak too deeply on. Still, Kerns knowledge made his endeavors just believable enough to be interesting. Deep down Thomas just wanted to see one of Kerns contraptions work.

Kerns finished up his plate and gestured for Thomas to come follow him over to the guest room.

“Hey, if there’s one other thing i really hope you ain’t scared of, it’s Ghosts!”

“Ghosts?”

“I’m takin you ghost hunting today today’s a day to celebrate, I wanna go ghost hunting, find some ghosts, and then have a nice dinner at Burger King ”

Thomas raised an eyebrow as he followed Kerns into the now packed room, all of Kerns possessions pushed to the side to make room for a giant Machine that looked like it was already falling apart. It was being held together with tape in places, but Thomas’s eyes were more drawn to the giant glass tube the machine was centered around. It was glowing a faint blue and bubbles on the glass showed that it was filled with some sort of liquid.

“When the hell did this get here?”

“Finished it last night!” Kerns beamed at Thomas.

“I don’t remember you bringing in any of this stuff”

“Last night ” Kerns continued smiling, looking at his creation.

“All the metal and the glass tube you brought up 3 flights of stairs into my apartment? Without me hearing?”

Kerns ignored Thomas, he was already fixated on a keyboard attached to the machine and typing away.

“So this is for ghost hunting?”

Kerns shook his head, “Can't catch ghosts with machines Thomas, everyone knows that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Cloning machine!”

“And that works?”

Kerns plucked a beard hair and put it into the machine.

“I’m sure of it Got the math from the Croft files. I’m an engineer, you trust me don’t you Thomas? You trust engineers?”

Thomas nodded and sipped his coffee, but he wasn’t really sure what to believe. The idea of cloning was ridiculous, and even if it was possible Thomas wasn’t exactly excited at the concept of more Kerns running around the house. Then again, this machine working would prove if Kerns was the real deal or not, as well as a number of other implications.

“How long will it take to get results?”

“At least a day! Probably won’t want anything plugged in when this baby starts up or we might get some electrical problems in the whole apartment. So... I figured the two of us could head out and do some ghost hunting!”

“Where exactly?”

“That old abandoned house the next town over.”


“That's like 6 hours away.”


“Heard the ghost of Kennedy still haunts those halls.”


“In a haunted house Georgia?”


Kerns ignored Thomas’ question, “Your car or mine?”, he asked.


Kerns said this while already getting into Thomas’ car.


“Actually can you drive? I’m feeling sick still.”


Kerns shrugged, “Sorry bud, already in your car.”


“Just drive my car please dude i'm not gonna make it like this.”


Thomas spit out some more vomit onto the pavement. Kerns sighed and moved over to the drivers seat, getting the mud on his shoes onto the carseat in the process.


The pair drove off, in search of something to eat on the way there.

 

[littlestclown]

part 2

Pope Meals Excursion

It was getting an almost mauve color of twilight this evening; Kerns gripped the wheel with his sweaty palms, looking to find a bite to eat for supper. Thomas Gaze was noticeably more relaxed than he (on this particular occasion). Thomas smiled, and gazed out the window. His deep, blue eyes were glued to the captivating horizon. But, something still disturbed him. Beautiful things always frightened Thomas Gaze. Was he afraid they would let him down?


Kerns broke the witting silence with a sigh. He had upset Thomas earlier, for insisting on driving. Kerns regretted it, since the guilt now disallowed him from enjoying the activity. Guilt is, at least, how Kerns described the emotion introspectively; fear is a more compelling candidate. Thomas still disturbed him. One will observe tourette's symptoms when one makes Thomas angry. The symptoms get worse when Gaze hungers.


An apparently crestfallen sign spinner, pointing out a restaurant called Pope Meals, was pointed out to Thomas Gaze by Kerns. Both gentlemen agreed to give this restaurant, of which they were hitherto unaware, an honest chance, and perhaps a review. Restaurants lament the day that the discourteous duo crap on the reputation of the business with their scathing jeremiads. Kerns’s reviews are concerned with the quantity and speed of the food, whereas Thomas Gaze looks through a more fine-dining lens. With an almost lascivious tenacity, Kerns reveals the inefficiency of the restaurant, squashing irrelevant gimmicks. Thomas Gaze’s critique is said to be so exhaustively vicious that unseemly vicissitudes coincidentally coincide with its release. The owners of these restaurants begin to wonder what they’ve done to bring clowns down on their heads.


But, it is not yet time to throw the pie. Slanderous is one trait you cannot accuse Thomas Gaze of possessing. Kerns, perhaps. But not Thomas. Thomas takes this seriously. Sometimes he wishes he could set fire to Kerns, figuratively speaking, I assure you. Kerns was looking more the role of parasite as each day passed, loaning, borrowing, striking many an unbalanced “deal”; Thomas wasn’t fooled by the various words Kerns used to characterize his leech-like behaviour. In an almost comical turn of events, Thomas was now, temporarily, the leech. Broke. Kerns rather liked this dominant role in the relationship. Thomas Gaze was at the mercy of Kern’s restaurant choices. He suspected no coincidence of his recent constipation. And, although he respected Kern’s attempts to expand his horizons with a new restaurant choice, he suspected artificiality in this choice. In other words, Kerns had some strange agenda in choosing Pope Meals, likely a misguided (or rather, misfired) attempt to permanently change his shallow tendencies, based on the dogma that this resolution is efficacious. Perhaps you have ascertained Kerns’s secret -- he dislikes himself for a great proportion of the time.


Kerns parked badly. He blamed it on the faded parking lines, perhaps a justified complaint. Kerns and Thomas gazed at the storefront of Pope Meals with disbelief. Unimpressive presentation, that is for certain. Depressing color spectrum -- grey colors which imitate silver without the glimmer. Thomas questioned the IQ score of the store owner.


A very angry blonde man in a plaid shirt stormed out of the building, nearly knocking Kerns down. He shouted, “Bloody hell, there’s no helping these people.” Thomas alternated glances between the blonde man and the supposed head chef of the restaurant; he could discern beef between them. Ironic, since over the counter was a placard which stated, in bold font, “strictly vegan.” Kerns made an onomatopoeic retort related to flatulence. No music could be heard inside Pope Meals. A group of rabbis and other strange people were eating together and whispering quietly. A particular group of shadowy figures whispered with such precision that one wondered if they were master lip readers, or possessed inhuman ears. One among them looked as if he washed his hair in Pepsi. Kerns found an ill-fitting opportunity to be humorous.

“Hey can I get the name of the shampoo you use?” Kerns’s joke left him with a shit-eating grin. What made it worse was that Kerns actually had “shit” on his teeth -- spinach or some such nonsense.

The Pepsi hair gentlemen, whom may or may not have been alluded to earlier in this book, looked towards his friends, back to Kerns (still smiling in expectation), and then back to his friends, this time with resolve. “This place is tapped,” he said. The group folded the napkins which were in their laps, seemingly in sequential rhythm, grabbed their coats from behind their chairs in the same manner, and bustled past Kerns. Dr. Pepsi Hair struck shoulders with Kerns with uncanny blatancy. The whole restaurant witnessed the man’s aggression

.

Kerns was aghast. “Rude!” He shook himself. Thomas gazed at him with arms folded. This consternation annoyed Kerns. “I know, I know. ‘Pull yourself together!’”

After this minor stir Kerns was able to lock on to the mission again. He addressed the main chef, an Italian looking man with an unseemly chef hat. One shouldn’t parody one’s profession. A two foot tall chef hat makes a restaurant seem unsettling. Kerns was pricked when he looked in vain for an injection of saturated fat on the menu. The menu was concise indeed, featuring only what follows: “Plain Oatmeal.” Kerns guffawed.


Thomas was halfway towards the door, but Kerns insisted on bracing himself for the experience. He addressed the head chef, “Give me the full package. Don’t hold back.” Thomas Gaze was glaring at Kerns with slight outrage. This is nothing like Kerns; he had apparently convinced himself of beginning some half-assed resolution, some new leaf based probably on self help guides. Thomas Gaze scuttled forward with dismay. “Oatmeal.”


They couldn’t even get the oatmeal right. Both Kerns and Thomas Gaze dug through their oatmeal, suspicious of a hair or anything otherwise disgusting. That was the mental association attached to the particular spacetime coordinates of Pope Meals -- chaos through order, not the expression’s more civilized twin. Chaos through order -- an indication of intentional negligence, an impertinent egoic impracticticality. Kerns was, and is, a practical man. And his personality is dawning. The dull light of his soul is breaking through the overcast of his brainwashing. What of Thomas Gaze? He’s depressed, at this point. Even a review would be difficult. When a restaurant doesn’t hide it’s bullshit, why state the obvious? Kerns got up to defend his digestion. He clanked his glass of… water, and bellowed forth.


“I now know the true meaning of mess hall, cause this restaurant is a mess! I was planning on ordering a derivative of cacao, but I can see now that all that’s available is caca! So allow me, cause I don’t eat around the bush! Oh, I get the cute gimmick. I see you. Hiding behind the obfuscating force of an only shallowly clever idea. ‘How about a restaurant that blatantly sucks, bucko?’ I bet you remember that conversation, and in your dulled sense of self, you thought this was the path you should take. Where’s your balls? You thought pride in your mental impotence would prove the only practical option, but the nature of any analysis of yours is that of aptitude to failure. For the chronically misguided, criticism is a feature, not a bug, so heed my words, lest you go out of business. Get a decent menu, for fuck’s sake. It’s not funny, it may even ruin people’s day. I’m sorry to say, it ruined mine! Classics, such as a burger, fries, pizza, ravioli, and tacos aren’t to be eschewed. I can help you find some very simple cookbooks if you need. You’re a crock -- pot-smoking reject of a cook, smelling of spatulence!” Thomas Gaze’s jaw dropped. Never before had he heard such a poignant review come from Kerns. He thought it impossible. You could nearly discern Thomas Gaze’s satisfaction amidst the moment of silence adroitly manufactured by Kerns.

The head cook was unfazed. He physically turned his cheek towards Kerns and pointed at it. “Here’s another good spot. Take your best shot.” His voice did not even bear the hint of depression. It was pure robotism. Kerns was slightly stunned, and he felt caught off guard. It was indeed a slight comeback, Kerns realized. He underestimated him. After a centurial war occurred in a split second in Kerns’s mind, he made the decision to nod quickly towards the chef. “Well played. But you’ve lost a customer.”


“I’ll pray for you.”


Kerns’s eyebrow raised. His curiosity got the better of him. He wouldn’t last long at the end of an adept Preacher’s rhetorical barrel. “I think it’s best if me and my friend left. My advice is as pertinent as ever.”


As Kerns and Thomas Gaze calmly broached the exit door, a muslim man from a group of six muslims seated together decided it would be in his favour to cast a black magic spell towards Thomas Gaze. “Clowns can leave,” he said. Kerns and Thomas stopped short, with kerns extending his arm horizontally to keep Thomas from opening the door. The group of muslims stared at the backs of the two “clowns,” and noticed that Thomas was shaking. Tourettes. “F-f-f-fuck you! A great fear sets into your mind. Consider yourself marked!” Thomas commanded the door open. To him it seemed as if it swung open of its own accord. The muslim man wanted the last word. “Yeah, leave! Clowns, disturbing the peace!” Kerns showed ‘em his pet bird.


It took some nursing on Kerns’s part to get Thomas back to normal. His rocking began to subside and he lit a newport, held in the first hit, looked toward the nearly dark horizon, and exhaled. All of his nervous bleeding-out seemed to subside along with the smoke. Closed system again. Thomas quickly forgot the incident and told himself to stay tuned for the great restaurant adventure in store for him tomorrow. Pope meals was mysteriously vandalized with balloons. One could not even reach the front door of the restaurant without getting tangled up in balloons.

 

[littlestclown]

Part 3, but first, a short explanation

Pope Meals Explained Further

Scratching your head? That is likely my fault. Occasionally, I underestimate the curiosity of my readers. To ameliorate this personal issue, I shall enunciate the following: the history of Pope Meals, its condition during the once and only time of Kerns and Gaze’s introduction to it, the future of Pope Meals (is it bright?), its sociology, psychology, philosophy, and hyperdimensional nature to boot.

You may remember Pope Meals’s head chef. He was born in Pisa, Italy to a small family of angry farmers. He was (and is? [stay tuned]) a rarity in the sense that he shared no phenotypes at all from his immediate family. Is it safe to speculate? Indeed, once he found out that he had a different father his eyes almost exploded. As a Christian man who acted out his beliefs, going so far as to delve into the vast field of micro-sins (is the pickle jar tight enough?), Ameliero Valencetti believed in a hot dog for a hot dog and a donut for a donut. As a result of finding out that he was a bastard son, he studied sexual sins for years, cumming to a head with his penetration of the politics regarding sexuality, espousing nothing playful in this regard, and came to the consummation of his manhood upon making out a blow-by-blow member of John Harvey Kellogg's penned performance, which gave the bum rush to exiting consumable goodies. So he hitherto abandoned all exciting foods, and decided to only sell oatmeal at his restaurant, which he would call Pope Meals, out of respect for the pope.

You may also remember Kerns and Thomas Gaze’s visit to Valencetti’s restaurant. Unless you have Alzheimer’s. The restaurant was in dire straights at this particular fourth coordinate of spacetime. Gordon Ramsey’s help was requested. The critic was told to wash his mouth out with soap for a two-fold reason. Footage of the elusive Italian chef was sparse, for he, without failure, blocked the camera crews advances stoically. Valencetti wasn’t convinced that Thomas and Kerns’s supposedly coincidental appearance wasn’t espionage on the part of Ramsey.

What became of the loathsome restaurant shocked the entire nation. When the police popped the final balloon, and were finally able to enter the restaurant, they found Valencetti dead. He had slit his own throat according to the contents of the whole scene, but of course the police still checked for foul play (there was no evidence that Valencetti was a clown). Valencetti left some helpful evidence, however. His last words: “I am sorry. I have failed God, and this planet. I am gross. Look at me. I am what you don’t want to become. I am a mess. My life is arbitrary. My heart’s beating fast, so I do have to courage to obey God one last time… I hear clowns in my head. I might be an Auguste Clown after all. That customer about a year ago reminded me of my dark past.”


The Book Avery was Contracted to Write from the perspective of Thomas Gaze (yes, he was there)


Thomas was still woozy from not eating. The pair pulled up the long driveway the “haunted house”. Kerns was vibrating with excitement. Thomas was not impressed. Upon closer inspection he noticed a car already parked there.


“Is this a popular spot Kerns?”


“Oh that car, probably some damn kids, havin sex and disrespecting the spirits.”


Thomas raised an eyebrow, “I don't think people are having sex in here Kerns.”


“Why not?”


“Its a shithole! You think younger people hang out in haunted houses and fuck on dusty old beds?”


“You’d be surprised, have I ever told you about my days at Clemson?”


“Yes. Many times.”


Kerns opened his eyes wide and flicked his tongue from side to side. Thomas shook his head and got out of the car. His head was killing him, and the atmosphere was not inviting to clowns. He could definitely feel a force emanating from the abandoned house. Thomas and Kerns both noticed beer bottles thrown all around the front of the house. Kerns picked one up and sniffed it.


“King Kobra, its still cold.”


“Its 8pm in the middle of October Kerns.”


“No i can tell, this ones fresh.”


Thomas’ eyes shifted to notice a gas station bag and receipt right next to kerns.


“Ah.”


“Hope we wont have to lay down the law on these kids. I dont wanna scare off Kennedy.”


“Well whoever it is I doubt they'll be a bother.”


More beer bottles, trash and graffiti as the two men entered the mansion. A clear trail across the entrance and to the basement stairs was visible. Thomas and Kerns inspected their surroundings.


“Hey Thomas, found your favorite food!”


Thomas turned around to see kerns red in the face and laughing, pointing at a giant penis drawn on the wall.


“Ah. haha.”


Thomas took a closer look at the floor and noticed a bunch of used condoms. Once again, Kerns was right about something stupid.


Kerns marched through the trash with his loud backpack clanging behind him. Thomas followed behind the new trail made by Kerns. They noticed that the light was on in the basement, and they could definitely hear music. Thomas wasnt a fan of music, and had only heard a song all the way through 3 times in his life up until this point. Because of this peculiar upbringing, music caused him great mental pain and he would turn it off any chance he'd get. Thomas was already feeling the stress, he knew he'd have to tell these teenagers to turn their music off, and he was afraid.


They noticed three men staring up at them, definitely not kids, probably about 27, they seemed like losers, so Thomas took his chance. Before Kerns, or the long haired man who appeared to be the leader of the trio spoke, Thomas raised his voice awkwardly over the music while descending the stairs.


“Hey can you turn that off?”


The mexican of the group, who was seated nearest to the controls for the speaker turned the music down, but not off, as if to facilitate conversation. Kerns was about to speak, but Thomas cut him off.


“No all the way off, please.”


“Why?” the mexican asked.


“Im not used to music, i dont listen to it, it bothers me.”


The leader of the group spoke up, “What? What the fuck are you talking about you fucking psycho?”


Thomas scratched at his ears, he couldnt take it.


“Im sorry, im sorry, im sorry, “ Thomas repeated this as he made his way over to the wall socket and unplugged the speaker.


Kerns was quietly observing and thinking of a way to smooth things over. He moved in to speak to the group and get their attention away from Thomas, who was now digging his ears out in the corner.


“Let me apologize for my friend here, hes not used to music, cant listen to it. Were not here to cause no harm, but if were gonna have a conversation the musics gotta be off, thats all!”


The three all seemed to speak at once, saying something to the effect of, “we dont care, fuck off”


Thomas could sense no power coming from these men, they would all die a dishonorable death at some point, probably soon. Knowing this, Thomas decided to pitch in to help Kerns.


“Sorry again, like my friend said, I’m not really used to music, cant listen to it, sorry guys. Were just ghost hunters like you, let me introduce myself, my name is Thomas Gaze, and this is my friend Kerns. Can i ask yo-”


Thomas was cut off by the third man in the room, a man with glasses and a faux hawk,


“Whats your last name?”


Kerns grinned, he was ready.


“Don't ask me for my last name, you wont get it!”


Crickets chirped. Thomas cleared his throat and spoke up once more.


“Can i ask all of your names?”


The leader of the group responded, “No.”


Kerns tried to keep the conversation going, “So, what brings you boys to this haunted house? Amateur ghost hunters yourselves? We could share tip-”


“Were not here for ghosts, we just like it here.”


Kerns nodded, Thomas was disoriented, and tugged at Kerns.


“Lets go… this is going nowhere”


Kerns agreed, the pair awkwardly waved goodbye and were ignored.


“Kerns I’m not feeling w-”


“Those retards are gonna scare away all the fucking ghosts! This should be illegal!! Should we call the police?”


“I thought you didn't trust the police kerns..”


Kerns was frustrated at his own hypocrisy. He screamed and punched a wall.


“I'll go check upstairs Thomas. See if you can find any ghost evidence around here on the ground floor.”


“Why are we splitting up?”


“Don't tell me you're scared now!”


“No! I mean, what am I even looking for?”


“Ah yes! Fuck! Almost forgot, here, take this, its all youll need.”


Kerns pulled out a flashlight and what looked to be a voltage tester and handed it to thomas. Upon further inspection, the tool appeared to be literally just a voltage tester and nothing else.


“This is just a voltage tester kerns, you have to touch this wand thing to an electri-”


“Not a voltage tester, i modified it. It senses invisible energy, aura and such things now.”


“How?”


“Can't give away the secrets to the ghosts Thomas, they're listening.”


Kerns pointed at the air with a smile, but this smile was broken by the sound of the music returning, and even louder than before. Thomas began to cry. Kerns was furious.


“That's it! I'll go give those boys a piece of my mind!!


With that, kerns slammed the door behind him and stomped down the stairs. Thomas tried to get away from the sound by leaving the living room. As he closed the door behind him he was met with the sound of the front door creaking open. Thomas watched as two women who had just passed their prime stepped out from behind it.


“Fuck!! Girls!”


The idea of introducing himself to two women while in this condition upset Thomas. He would surely puke. He decided to leave them to kerns, and ran inside the nearest room he could find.


As Thomas closed the door behind him, a horrible smell assaulted his nostrils. He gagged.


“Is this the fucking toilet room!?”


A sarcastic comment of course, but Thomas would soon realize he was not far off. This was, it seems, at some point the kitchen. But it had indeed become a sort of “Toilet Room”. Brown smears covered the walls. No graffiti, just poop. Poop filled condoms lined the dining table, and the ground was covered in toilet paper, and poop. Thomas was covering his mouth and noise with his shirt as tears came down his face, one by one. He turned around to open the door, but he then made out the voices of the two girls chatting idly about the graffiti on the walls. His social anxiety had gotten the better of him. He decided to stay in the room.


He turned on his flashlight, only to be swarmed by all of the flies in the room at once, and decided it would be best to keep it off. There was still light coming in from the window. He felt the flies biting him now. These were strong flies. They had grown strong from the years of feasting on shit, and now they were flying into him at full force, biting him, basically telling him to fuck off and leave. But Thomas pressed on. He took a look at the device Kerns had given him. He powered it watched as the numbers on the screen rose from zero. He moved the attached wand and to his surprise the numbers seemed to point to a direction with extreme precision. The numbers got larger as Thomas stepped further into the kitchen. As thomas passed the fridge he noticed a humming noise coming from it. Was it on? The handle was clean, and there was relatively little poop in this area of the kitchen, maybe, Thomas thought, there would be something edible left in here from previous partygoers, maybe this poop was a more recent prank.


Thomas was wrong. As he opened the door a swarm of flies assaulted him, almost like bees attacking someone entering their hive Thomas stumbled backward into a shelf and pulled for something to sit himself back up. As he pulled on a book something clicked into place. He heard a mechanism move and soon he found the floor and shelf rotating him into a secret compartment into the wall.


The room Thomas found himself in was pitch black. He turned on his flashlight only to be met with clowns. The room was dusty. In the corner Thomas found a chest. He checked the device Kerns had given him to find the number had gone up considerably. Another lever sat on the wall and appeared to be for exiting the room.


“A haunted chest? Surely not..”


Thomas opened the chest cautiously. The glow inside almost blinded Thomas and lit up the entire room. As his eyes adjusted, Thomas noticed multiple portraits of professional looking clowns lining the walls of the room. He turned his attention back to the chest, which was full of glowing orbs. He felt something in that moment. He was being called by the balls in the chest. The balls began to rustle, some even levitating. Thomas could feel their power.


“Just one.”


Thomas touched a ball that came floating towards him. The ball was absorbed cleanly into his skin. Thomas immediately felt rejuvenated.


“No… one more… thats all I need…”


He grabbed another and watched as it easily dissolved into his veins. This time, it hurt. Thomas heard a voice in his head.


“Greed… to each man a ball… You are not worthy… you think you deserve all of these?”


The ball was fighting him, suddenly Thomas had lost the self confidence that the balls had brought on. He was scared. He chose not to fight them back.


“Fuck!! Im sorry! I'm not worthy!!”


The balls came back up. It was painful for Thomas, he vomited them both out and and was blown to the back of the room. With his current condition, Thomas fell unconscious…


Thomas awoke with a headache, still starving. He wondered if it had all been a dream. He turned his flashlight back on and examined the room, which appeared the same. The chest however, was no longer there. As to whether it was moved or simply never existed, Thomas was not sure.


“Ghost chest? No…”


Thomas picked himself up and walked over to the the lever to exit the room. He checked his watch to find he had been unconscious for at least eight hours. It was now 3am.


“Kerns?”


Thomas made his way out of the kitchen, shining his flashlight all around.


“Anyone?...”


Thomas noticed the faint sound of music coming from the basement once again. It was comforting in a way, as Thomas realized he wasn't alone in this mansion at midnight. He turned to see the door was wide open. In the moonlight Thomas could make out all the cars he had seen before, it seemed like everyone was still there.


“Where the hell is Kerns then?...”


Thomas looked again through the window and noticed one more car, a larger truck with two large men smoking next to it. A tarp was placed over the truck bed. Suddenly Thomas’ anxiety had gotten the better of him. He was reminded that Kerns had gone downstairs to give the three men a piece of his mind. With the music still playing, had they possibly killed Kerns? Maybe tied him up and thrown him in the back of this truck?


Thomas realized that he would have to go down there and face those three men, and possibly their girlfriends. Hopefully this wouldn't have to end badly.


“I wont ask them to turn off their music. Ill suck it up.”


Thomas repeated this in his mind to psych himself up for the encounter. He made his way downstairs.


Before Thomas could speak, he was frozen in his tracks. Two of the men lay dead on the ground, multiple stab wounds in their backs, and one of the women from earlier sitting naked, covered in blood. The womens gaze went on for miles, and it seemed she was in a catatonic state. She was shaking and talking to herself.


Suddenly, Thomas felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped with fright.


“Sorry to frighten you, but there was really no other way to get your attention.”


A familiar voice. Thomas turned around to see a man with sticky greasy white hair.


“Youre…”


“Ah yes, we met earlier at the restaurant… you were with your friend… but that's not exactly pertinent now. I suppose you’d like to know what's going on here.”


“Yes… did you… follow us here?”


The man with Pepsi hair shook his head and laughed.


“I was coming with some of my associates to look into the state of this Mansion, I own it you see…”


“This late at night?”


Pepsi Hair grinned.


“We came in here around 9, I had my associates in the car and we simply decided we'd drop by. Maybe catch some colorful characters trespassing. We've done it before anyways.”


“And kill them?”


Pepsi hair feigned shock.


“Don't tell me you think I did this?”


“What happened?”


“Hmm, you're not with this group of gentlemen are you?”


“Not at all, we just met today. I came here with my friend to go ghost hunting.”


Pepsi hair smiled and nodded.


“I see. Well, when we got here and checked the basement the long haired man and his girlfriend appeared to be on some kind of drug fueled thrill killing session, murdering these two young men here. The woman was likely next. They dropped what they were doing and began to chase me and my associates around the halls. We ended up having to hide in windowless rooms until they got tired and went back to what they were doing. No service inside the house unfortunately so we couldn't call for help until it was safe to leave. The police are on their way. It's been a horrible night.”


“And my friend?”


“Haven't seen him i'm afraid… which isnt a good sign… the couple is upstairs, If you value your life I wouldn't risk it.”


“Kerns was upstairs, I have to see if hes ok.”


Thomas pushed past the Pepsi haired man and was greeted by the two large men he saw outside by the truck. They grabbed him by the arms and held him back.


“Sorry… I didnt think youd actually try and go up there, unfortunately were not letting you risk waking them up and possibly escaping. Once the police get here you can search with them…”


“I just can't believe this… If what youre saying is true.. they had to have gotten him”


“Im sorry for your loss.”


“This just doesnt make any sense… We talked to that guy earlier and he didnt want to have anything to do with us, he didnt seem like a murderer…”


Thomas noticed the police pull into the driveway. Pepsi hair turned to Thomas.


“Sorry, I need to talk to them, I hope your friend is alive.”


Thomas waited in the car for an hour. A black bald police officer with a mustache finally approached the door.


“Your friend was the fat guy right?”


“Yes? Is he ok?”


“Nah he's dead. We got his backpack over here.”


Another officer opened the door to the car and tossed in a bloody backpack.


“Sorry :/” The cop left Thomas’ car and went back to work. Thomas held back tears and pulled out of the driveway. He noticed Pepsi hair waving him goodbye while standing next to the truck bed, which had a faint glow around it. He pulled onto the road and drove home.


Thomas tired and dejected, unlocked the door to his apartment, only to find that the lights were left on.


“I couldve sworn…”


Thomas turned to see a naked kerns covered in green goo stretching and walking over to the kitchen.


“How’d the ghost hunting go? Wish i could've been there, but, you know ”


Thomas dropped the bloody backpack on the floor.

 

[neverendingmidi]

Granted, I’ve been shown you’re too autistic or schizophenic to understand, but this isn’t really a place to post your writing. I’d suggest Fictionpress or Wattpad. They are actually sites designed for publishing.


Unless you’ve already been kicked off of those.

 

[DeadwastePrime]

wow ethan. great moves. keep it up. proud of you

 

[Cake Farts]

I think null would appreciate it if you DM’d him your stories.

 

[Guts Gets Some]

“Got raped by a dog as a kid.”

Thomas turned around and raised an eyebrow. Surely not. Kerns made a fake concerned face with his eyebrows raised. He nodded his head in attempt to get a reaction out of Thomas. This was just another example of Kerns’s awful sense of humor.

Thomas shook his head at kerns.

Kerns nodded his head more, in a final attempt to make Thomas laugh.

“Yup! Got raped in the ass! Couldn’t walk for days!! Ooh! That dog had a big dick! I was 3 years old.”

The new timeless scene to be passed down through the generations.