Dad Does Take-Out

By Bruce G. Smith All Rights Reserved ©

Horror / Action

Dad Does Take-Out

Timothy leaned against the brownstone. In an earlier iteration, it had been a pharmacy with an ice cream soda counter and bar stools. It had witnessed sit-ins in the sixties, then riots. Now it sat abandoned. He gained entry through a loose piece of plywood over a boarded up window.

He slept in the pharmacy during the day on a pee stained mattress repurposed from a dumpster. He served as a sentry preventing access to the den in the bowels below the store.

Tonight his hunger could not be appeased by the tossed out orts from the Chinese restaurant. He needed fresh meat. He scratched at his arm. Something wiggled under his fingers. A louse crawled between the hairs. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, and popped it in his mouth. He strolled a couple of blocks along Grand River Avenue.

A dog wandered down the deserted street towards him. The full moon fully exposed the mongrel as it stopped, lifted its leg and urinated on the fire hydrant. The dog spotted Timothy, and approached him possibly hoping for a free meal. A few yards away the dog’s instincts kicked in. It stopped and sniffed.

Perhaps it was the bedraggled look of Tim’s clothes or maybe the noxious odors that wafted from him in waves. The dog knew this individual would offer no food, and even possibly the opposite could happen. The dog could become the meal. The dog growled. Timothy emanated a louder growl. The dog ran. Its tail tucked in submission.

A parked Mercedes squatted in front of the fire hydrant. A ticket flitted in the breeze held in place by a windshield wiper. Tim vaguely remembered driving one long ago down the Lodge Freeway. A beautiful redhead sat in the passenger seat. She had long legs and long fingernails. He met her in a rave bar. They danced until closing time, and they left together.

“I’m too tipsy to drive. Why don’t you drive us? I’ll give you directions to a nice quiet place so we can get to know each other better,” she said. He drove to a park. They made love under a full moon. Her passion consumed her. She ripped and tore at him with her nails and teeth. It wasn’t until a month later that he learned the truth about Red.

He walked closer to the car. Timothy leaned forward, and looked through the passenger window. A man yelled. “Get away from there you bum. That’s my car. You don’t get away from it I’m calling the cops.”

Timothy stepped back. The man came closer. He continued to yell. “You’re disgusting. You stink.” The words came out slurred. Tim waited. He smelled alcohol and pot. The man staggered.

The besotted man wore a full-length Italian wool jacket and Cole Haan shoes. Tim thought the man looked like a lawyer or a pimp either way a fitting subject for tonight’s activities. Timothy dug a long green juicy booger out of his nose. Looked at it. Smiled at the man, and rubbed it on the car window. It left a slimy streak.

“You scumbag. I’ll kill you.” Tim continued to smile. The man drew a gun, and shot. Tim’s body absorbed the bullets. They did no damage. He began to walk towards the man. Tim's eyes glowed red. Too late the man turned to run. Timothy grabbed the man. With unnatural strength, he picked the man up and slammed him head first against the car window. The car alarm went off.

The man lay crumbled on the ground unconscious. Timothy searched through the coat pockets until he found the keys. He turned the car alarm off. An old Lincoln Continental cruised passed. It began to slow. The driver noticed the red glow in Timothy eyes, and sped up. Down here, everyone knew not to mess with the red-eyed dude on the full moon.

Tim threw the man over his shoulder and began to run. In case anyone watched, he headed away from his lair initially. He stuck to dark back allies. The man started to moan. Timothy stopped, threw the man to ground. The man’s head bounced on the pavement, and knocked him out again.

Tim searched the man’s pants, and found a wallet containing several hundred dollars. He stuffed the cash in his pocket and tossed the wallet and iPhone down a storm drain.

He lifted the man over his shoulder, and began to run towards home. He saw no one else on the way to the brownstone. Tim slid the plywood aside and slipped through the broken window. He made sure the board secured the opening before heading down to the den.

“I’m home. I brought dinner.” He laid the man out in front of the den. Several youngsters ran out of the den, and greeted their father. Red came out of the den, and gave him a hug and a kiss. They nuzzled. The kids sniffed and poked at the man.

Timothy grabbed the man, and dragged him to some pipes connected to the wall. He handcuffed the man to the pipes. Red scratched the man’s face with her nails. She licked her fingers. “Come and eat children.” The juveniles began to lap at the blood.

The man began to scream and writhe. He yanked on the pipes to no avail. He began to beg. “Stop playing with your food,” Timothy growled. "Eat."

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