Be A Dear

*DING* a bell rings out into the crisp midnight air as I swing the door open. Rows of rusted white machines outline the dimly lit laundromat perched over linoleum coated with decades-worth of dust and mold. I took a quick glance around the room. Just a few bent folding chairs and a card table caked with the scent of day-old soap and lint scraps of foldings past.

Where the hell is everybody?

I take a step forward toward the table and hear the crunch of paper underfoot. Huh? I bend down and pick up the paper. In between my detergent stained bootprint reads the words, “B BK SOON. OUT 4 SMOKES. DNT TOUCH NETHING! - Terrence.”

Spelling was never Terry’s strong suit, or grammar. Matter of fact, school in general really. Almost failed out ‘til they gave him a waiver for the draft. Whatever they were using over there to fry the plants must’ve fried his brain too.

He really told me to get here at midnight on the dot for “training.” Training for what? What could possibly be so hard about a night shift security job at a laundromat in scenic Altoona, PA? I scoff, set the note down on the table and pop a squat on the lone unfolded chair. Guess I’ll wait.

How in the fresh hell did I get talked into this gig? The VA told me I’d be flush with opportunities back home after “my exemplary service” in Khe Sanh. Fat chance. Anything’s better than that summer back on the hog farm though. Frickin’ pigs, man, lemme tell ya.

Was this the “nice and easy” part Terry was jawing on about when I ran into him at the Legion? Five bucks an hour to sit on my ass? I’ll take it.

*DING* the door swings open again… well half open at least as a gust of cool air fills the room. Shivering my eyes dart to the entrance as it slams shut again.

Another *DING.* “H-hold on! I’ll be right there!” I shout, rising from my post to investigate this creaky door situation. My first official task.

Then, I see her. Petite. Unassuming. Almost ethereal. A bit crusty honestly. Her bright blue eyes lit up and smile widened at the sight of some much-needed assistance, weathered yellow teeth gleaming in the pale moonlight. “Ahhh new blood! Please, would you be a dear and get the door for an old maid?”

“Why, yes, of course ma’am,” I reply, putting on my best airs of hospitality and reaching for the door. Not trying to lose my job on the first night here. 

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest? That other one is so rude all the time. "Don't do this! Don’t do that!’ I knew tonight would be my lucky night with you here!”

“Oh please, really it was nothing.”

“Ooohh agghhh” she shrieks. “My aching bones! Would you be a dear again and help an old maid with her laundry bag?” She points her bony, blackened fingernail at an overstuffed canvas sack shoved halfway in the door.

“It would be my pleasure.” Holy shit this thing is heavy. “Ha… whadda ya got in here? A body or something?” 

“Precisely my dear! Fresh from the backyard - just dug up this morning." She pauses. “Oh dear can you imagine little old me dragging a big fat carcass around Altoona in the middle of the night? I kid, I kid!”

“You’re a regular Joan Rivers huh? Heading to the Tonight Show after this?” I put forth my best effort to heave this body over my shoulder and carry the sack over to the dormant row of rusted washers.

“Don’t you worry, sonny boy there will be a show tonight alright.” She retorts with a wink.

“Well uhhh I’ll leave you to it then.” I retreat back to my corner table and keep my eyes trained for any more little old me’s that might stumble through the door at this hour.

Did Terry rope me into running the Cuckoo’s Nest over here? Old maid’s got a few screws loose for sure. The hell is this guy at? B BK SOON my ass.

“Sonny Boy! Oh sonny Boy! Would you be a dear and come here for a second?” 

Christ, what does she want now? “Uhh ok be right there!” 

“And bring that chair!”

 I drag the chair along the floor and set it down beside her. “Now what can I help you with?”

“Be a dear and help this poor old maid load up her laundry. I just can’t seem to get these bloomers to budge. Too many bones in the way!” She cackles.

Not this schtick again. I pull open the sack and look down, ill-prepared for the horror staring back at me. Slackjawed, mouth agape staring straight ahead rested a familiar face.

I scream, but the words can’t escape my mouth. “Wha…is.. Is… is that Terry?! W-what’d you do to him?!” I recoil, lose my balance and fall back into the chair.

Stunned, the old maid swings herself behind me and two sharp pinches shock the knape of my neck, as if a pair of white hot needles were piercing through my skin down to the muscle. Convulsing, I try to maintain my composure and stave off the effects of whatever new venom was now coursing through my veins.

“Wha.. what di..did you d-do to m-me?” I stammer through clenched teeth.

“Sonny Boy, I did say there would be a show tonight, and we’re just getting started. Now just relax and try to enjoy yourself. I know I will!” 

Why am I so cold?

She releases her grip. “It won’t be long. Now, Terrence, time to wake up, sweetums.” 

Terry’s lifeless head springs up at her command. She lifts it out of the sack and places him atop the washer.

“Ah geez, boss, we got ourselves another one! Can I do it this time? Can I? Can I?” 

“Calm yourself, Terrence. In due time.”

“But… but… boss I never get to say the magic words. Can I? Just this once?”

“Fine! But I want this place spotless after. It’s filthy in here, sweetums, I mean really how are we supposed to sacrifice someone with all this junk everywhere? There’s bone dust all over the floor, Terry. We can’t have this.”

“Ah geez, boss, you know I’m good for it. I’ll clean up after! Promise!”

I’m launching every obscenity in the book at them but the only thing I can muster is a muffled “S-sacrifice??”

“Oh yes, Sonny Boy. You know what they say. Beauty is pain and all that, and I do what I have to to keep myself looking so sprightly and ravishing. You, our honored guest, have the privilege of being tonight’s meal du jour.”

“W-why me?”

“It’s obvious isn’t it? Poor Sonny, all alone in the world. No family. No friends. No job. That war really did a number on you lot. The fact that you’re even here reeks of desperation. And we like that, don’t we Terrence? Adds an extra thrill to the meal, watching you squirm.”

“Sure do, boss. Sure do!” Echoed Terry.

“But first… how about an appetizer?” She approaches the rusted out machine and plops a quarter in the slot. The front latch creaks open with a slurping, suckling, guttural howl.

“FEED ME! I WANT BLOOOOD” it croaks, spurting out thick black ooze with every syllable.

“Yes, yes my dearest you must be famished. Not to worry!” The old maid reaches deep into her sack of horrors emerging with a veritable smorgasbord of organs and extremities, shoveling fingers, toes, livers, intestines, and more into the mouth of the machine. 

“MOOOORE! I NEED MOOORE BLOOOOOD!” yelled the machine, spinning faster and faster with each morsel.

“City morgue, who’d have thought? They love me down there,” she quips.

“They sure do boss, they sure do! Is it time?? Is it time yet?” Terry inquires restlessly from his perch.

She turns to me and grips my shoulders from behind. Leaning down, she whispers softly in my ear. “Isn’t it beautiful? Mystifying? Look deep into its mouth. What do you see? Be a dear and slip into the vortex.”

I… I can’t look away. I’m transfixed at the swirling maw of this mechanical monstrosity. It’s calling me. It’s… it’s so beautiful, seducing me to launch myself from this chair into endless oblivion. 

I hear the chant reverberate through my subconscious. 

“Biahdir! Biahdir! Devour this man so our skin clears. Grind his bones, wrinkles disappear!” 

“Biahdir! Blood, meat, bile and tooth! Imbibing grant us eternal youth!”

I feel myself rise, crawling toward the calling, ready to dive headfirst into the sweet release of Biahdir’s serrated paradise. 

Then suddenly, *DING* a familiar bell rings. I’m snapped back to reality, as the three of us simultaneously pivot our heads to the front door. Who could that be at this hour?

“Uhh did one of y’all order a pizza? Somebody called in two large Altoona-styles for delivery. Name on the order was uhhh…Terrence?” the delivery man asks sheepishly from across the room, seemingly unbothered by the chaos unfolding before him.

Silence.

“Terrence! You ordered without consulting me??” The old maid shouted. “I hate that garbage. American cheese on pizza? Disgusting. And with whose money? You know how much I have to pay per part at the morgue? Livers aren’t exactly cheap these days, what with all the alcoholism.”

“Ah geez I’m sorry boss, guess I forgot. But you know, I get hungry sitting in that sack all day,” Terry apologizes.

“How can you be hungry if you don’t even have a stomach? Every day it’s some new issue with you I swear.”

“So like, do you want these or not?” asks the delivery man running out of patience with pizzas in hand.

“Yes, yes, be a dear and come set them down over here.” The old maid gives an inviting pat to the top of the machine.

A moment of clarity. It could be now or never to make a break for it. I’m still dazed. Woozy. I stand on shaky knees ready to buckle.

“Sorry, Terry, I wish it didn’t have to end like this.” I plant my hand on his disembodied head and grip him by the hair - in one motion I spin my arm around and toss him into the mouth of the machine. This should tide it over for a bit. 

“But I didn’t even get to have any PiiizZzZAAaahHH!!” Terry laments before his groans turn to screams at the hands of Biadir’s ripping jaws.

“NOT ENOUGHHH. MOOORE. FRESH. MEAT,” growls the machine spewing out a fresh batch of bubbling black ooze. 

I break toward the exit. Now’s the time. The old maid yells after me, “Just where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet!”

I was right there. One more *DING* of the bell and an open door to freedom. And… I’m on the ground again. I look down. Why are my hands so small? And what’s this thing I feel swinging behind me? My nose won’t stop twitching… this witch really turned me into a rat. 

Screaming, cursing, only squeaking. Reviled, but also still kind of cute. Doomed to live a life in the shadows feeding on other people’s scraps. And with who? This hag of a woman?

“It’s what you deserve. My poor Terry mushed to paste at the hands of some vagrant,” she cries.

“So… who’s paying for these?” pressed the pizza man still waiting by the door. “Need a $20 stat. Maybe a little on top. Y’all are my last of the night and maybe I didn’t see anything here if you’re pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down. I still gotta get back and close up.”

“Oh surely you must be exhausted from such a long night. Be a dear and have a seat right here. I’ll go fetch my purse,” reassured the old maid ushering him to my sacrificial altar of not five minutes ago. She places her hands on his shoulders with a familiar prick. “Just a second. I’ll be right back.”

*SQUEAK SQUEAK* I tell him to run. Scurry far away from this accursed town. Why isn’t he listening?

“STILL HUNGRY. NO MORE WAITING!” The machine erupts. Slimy scarlet tentacles shoot from its protruding cavernous mouth as lashing tendrils latch onto his expressionless face. Biahdir would have his midnight snack with or without the rhyming chants of sycophants.

“MMMM” grunts the machine with a satisfied belch. The loud whirring of rotating jaws and suction that once filled the air slow down to serene silence.

“Another satisfied customer. And look at me! I’m positively glowing. You, Sonny Boy, have been such a trooper through all of this. Why don’t you help yourself to a little snack?” The old maid pops open the box and takes a bite of the now free Altoona-style sitting on top of the machine. 

“I guess we’re all having pizza tonight. Oooh not bad. Not bad at all really.”

What is that intoxicating scent? I grip my tiny newfound claws into the side of the wall and climb. Greasy, cheesy heaven awaits. Might not be so bad if she keeps the ‘za coming.

Fuckin’ Altoona, man.