Wakey wakey, Johnny. Time to play.
I know it sounds, well you know, but these words were ringing in my head before and after I woke up in the middle of last night. It was like I was dreaming them and then hearing them. I know how it sounds, but you asked for the truth, so here it is.
I sat upright in bed and listened; the house was silent but for the gentle hum of the central heating. Despite the hum, my room felt cold. I reached up to the window above my bed and checked it: closed. I leant across and checked the radiator: on. Again, I know it sounds strange or whatever, but it was freezing in there. I took this as my cue to jump out of bed and hit the head.
I slipped out of my room – trying to be as careful as I could as to not wake up the ‘rents – and snuck down the hallway into the bathroom. I did my business, splashed a little water on my face, then made my way back down the hall. As I passed my parents room, I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye which compelled me to stop dead in my tracks. On either side of the bed lay my ‘rents, stood over each of them were, well… those things. They lurched over them, watching them sleep. As I peered through the gap between door and frame, the first thing that hit me was the smell.
Damn, those fucking things stank.
I covered my mouth and nose with my hand and fought the urge to throw up. It was horrible. Facing a losing battle, I pulled my t-shirt up over my face and took a few deep breaths. But it was no good: I gagged and then coughed, too loudly.
Now, you have to bear in mind it was the middle of the night and I was very close to passing out at this point, so to say I was myself would be a lie. Just thinking about it now, I’m not sure what I was doing. But when I saw one of those things go to grab my ma, I just acted on instinct, I guess. Like a crazy cruise control.
I stormed into the room, to the right hand side of the bed – my ma’s side. I threw a lazy punch at the thing’s head, but missed, barely grazing it’s scaly brown skin. Scaly brown skin, yes I know. Crazy. But I’m sure you’ve seen it for yourself by now, so I don’t need to tell you how implausible it would normally seem. My punch may have missed but it got the thing’s attention. It turned away from my mother and toward me, approaching slowly as I backed away.
Now that the thing was facing me, I could see it had three, small yellow eyes. Two were where a regular person’s eyes would be, the other where you would usually find the bridge of the nose. This was all happening so fast I didn’t have a chance to stop and think, “What the fuck!” As the yellow eyes ambled toward me, I looked for something I could use as a weapon.
The first thing I laid my eyes on was my ma’s hair dryer. It’s not exactly a baseball bat, I know, but at that moment I’d have probably grabbed a banana if that’s what was laying around. As I snatched it up into the air, the bloody plug flew round and smacked me in the knee. It was the jolt I most probably needed. Stung to life, I swung my makeshift weapon toward the thing, smashing it into its head. The thing fell to the floor much easier than I expected. I dove on top of it and slammed the hair dryer down into its skull one, two, three times. On the fourth smash, I heard a most definite crack. It was dark, but my hands and arms were now wet with what I knew to be blood. I’m not going to lie, I felt sick. But a groan to my left shocked me back into action.
The other thing was now sitting atop my pa, with its top half twisted so its head faced me. Without thinking, I dropped the hair dryer and dove across the bed, grabbing its throat as we rolled to the floor. I landed on top of it and forced all my weight down as I gripped the thing’s scaly neck between two bloody hands. I squeezed like I’ve never squeezed before. You’ll laugh, but I felt like Homer Simpson. OK, you won’t laugh. The thing flayed and wrestled at first, but I’m a big guy, and it soon stopped. I squeezed a little bit longer anyway, just to make sure. That’s when you guys showed up.
“That’s quite a tale, John.”
I could tell the detective didn’t believe a word of what I had just said. But they must have seen the bodies by now, spoke to my parents to get their side of things. Surely he could put two and two together?
“But you see, here’s the thing, John. We did find two bodies in your house, but not of any creatures from the lagoon. We’re pretty sure they’re the bodies of Maureen Moxley, 57, and John Moxley Sr, 60 – your mother and father.”
Well done, Johnny.
I can’t focus, can’t take in what he’s said. Either of them. Too many voices. Did he say my parents? Well done for what? “No…but, no. They were there. I saved them!” I can’t be sure, but I think I’m shouting.
“You saved nobody,” he snarls. He’s upset. “You murdered both of them, you sick fuck.”
But I didn’t. They were there. I saw those things with my own eyes, could touch them, smell them. They were there. Weren’t they? The detective slams his hands down on the desk and shouts something else, but I don’t hear him. Too many voices, all talking at once. One much louder than the others.
Come on now, Johnny, it’s time to play.