Five-Hour Charisma

Phil knelt in the dust on the black and white checkered tile. Tiny bottles lay scattered around his knees.

He took another from the shelf, checked the label. Five-Hour Energy. He dropped it and grabbed another. Five-Hour Energy. Another. Five-Hour Energy.

Dammit!

The clerk fidgeted with his green vest and watched with concern from half around the corner.

“Are you sure, sir, I can’t help you find something?”

“No. No. It’s fine. … I’m sorry. I’ll put them all back when I’m finished.”

Phil felt him hovering.

Five-Hour Energy. Five-Hour Energy. Five-Hour Energy.

A few minutes later, he had cleared the entire row. He sat in the jumble of vials and leaned back against the shelves, his head in his hands.

He looked up at the boy, then down again. His face flushed.

“It was here last week, but I guess you’re all out,” Phil mumbled.

He traced a crack in the tile.

“What are you looking for? We might have some in the back.”

“It’s … Five-Hour Charisma. It was here last week.”

Her Neighborhood

Evelyn stirred the lemon wedge in her iced tea and watched through the window from her wheelchair. The dewy glass left her fingers damp. She wiped them on her dress.

It was hard to superimpose her childhood memories over the neighborhood today. She closed her eyes and pictured Betty skipping rope on the sidewalk across the street.

I went downtown To see Ms. Brown, She gave me a nickel To buy a pickle, The pickle was sour, So I bought a flower. ...

Evelyn opened her eyes, and three teens sat on the steps where Betty had lived. They passed around an amber bottle and catcalled at passerbys. One bent to pick up a chunk of asphalt. He hurled it - hard - at a group huddled on the curb below her window.

His aim was poor: It sailed wide and slammed into the apartment next door.

First Kill

Joe had visited the pawn shop every day that summer to make sure it was still there. He had done extra chores at home, odd jobs for the neighbors, mowed every lawn in a one-mile radius of his house.

Now it was his. He sat on his bed and ran his hand along the polished blue metal barrel. Finally. The Remington 1187 Upland Special. He fingered the swirling leaves engraved on the stock.

“Freaking awesome.”

His mother had forbid him from doing anything but look at it within the town limits, but she promised they would visit Uncle Steve’s farm that weekend.

Thursday and Friday crept by heartbeat by agonizing heartbeat. At 6:30 a.m. Saturday he was dressed and ready, two hours before the rest of his family finished breakfast.

As they pulled into Steve’s driveway, Joe bolted from the car, brandishing his shotgun above his head. He met Steve at the porch.

“Hey! Whoa! What you got there? Lemmie take a look at that.” Steve grinned and turned the weapon over in his hands. He looked down the barrel. “Pow!” He shot an imaginary bird out of the sky.

Not a Succubus

“Chet, listen to me.”

“I am listening to you.” Chet jackhammered his index finger on the “B” button. The Gatling Stake Gun roared.

“No, Chet. Put down the controller and listen to me.” Jason picked up the TV remote.

“Turn that off and I will END you.”

“Goddammit Chet, this is important.”

“I’m listening to you. Talk.” He tilted the controller to the right and hit a rapid combination of buttons. “Shit.”

“Fine. Whatever." He ran his hand through his hair. "Listen, Janine is a succubus, Chet. She’s a damned succubus.”

“I know. She’s a real bitch.”

“No, she’s not a bitch … I mean, yes she’s a bitch, but she’s also a succubus. An honest-to-God succubus. I went over to Chris’s apartment, and I saw them on the couch through the window, and I thought they were making out. She looked like she was kissing him. But then I saw his face, and he just had this glazed look in his eyes. She wasn’t kissing him, man, she was literally sucking … something … out of him. She pulled away a little, and there was like a mist, a blue mist or something, coming out of him, and she was sucking it out.”

The Grove

The poplars looked cold. The trunks and narrow limbs seemed more than winter bare. They were stark. They were stripped and bleached.

Abe broke off a twig. It snapped dry.

On the tree, silver sap dripped from the new wound. The drops became a stream leaking onto the frozen ground. A thick puddle grew.

The stream became a spray, and Abe put his hand out to block it. Thick drops turned to rivulets down his wrist and hardened. He flexed his hand, and they cracked and flowed again in new directions down his arm.

Abe, frantic, wiped his heavy arm on his shirt. It stuck to the cloth and tore it as he pulled away. He could no longer flex his wrist or elbow. His shoulder stiffened.

He ran back down the road, but his legs became clumsy, and within seconds they stuck fast.


Tendrils climbed his neck, wormed into his nose, mouth and ears until his cry choked off. He stood a silver statue.

A low grating echoed quietly from his open mouth. A branch emerged, bone white. His fingertips, knees, shoulders and toes crackled as shoots pushed through, branching up and out.

The wind blew, and Abe swayed, stark and bare.

Bee grounded

Tommy coughed, and Bee, hovering just above his nose, wilted a little.

He hadn’t brushed his teeth.

She zipped to the ceiling and sat on the fan, legs dangling, looking down at the sleeping boys. She giggled then tumbled backwards and rolled off the blade, catching herself inches from the carpet and twirling out the door.

Down the stairs and around the living room, trailing subtle specks of fairy dust, she alighted on top of the Christmas tree, jealously nudging aside the angel and, with one hand shading her eyes, surveyed the landscape.

She bounced off a high branch and dove to the floor. Presents spilled beneath the tree as she plopped into the pile in a shower of tinsel.

“Achoo!” a puff of tinsel and fairy dust sneezed from the tree.

The Rise and Fall (and Rise and Fall) of @dunleavy27

Saturday, May 11

0 followers

@dunleavy27: Hey, just trying this out now. Anyone listening?

@dunleavy27: Dominoes for supper! Pepperoni rocks!

Sunday, May 12

12 followers

@dunleavy27: Hey @bristol2! How you feeling this morning?

@dunleavy27: Thanks for the RT @dominoes!

@dunleavy27: Leftover dominoes 2nite! Better than fresh!

Friday, May 17

15 followers

@dunleavy27: Watching GI Jane. More dominoes. Demi Moore is SUPERHOT!

Saturday, May 18

124,532 followers

@dunleavy27: Whoa! Wtf?

@dunleavy27: Thanks for the RT @aplusk!

@dunleavy27: Nice bacon and toast for supper, tweeps! Who likes toast?

@dunleavy27: Tweeting from my toilet right now! LOL!

@dunleavy27: Eating nachos.

@dunleavy27: Still watching TV. Nachos gone.

@dunleavy27: Going to bed.

@dunleavy27: NOT! LOL! Still awake.

@dunleavy27: Going to bed now for real! No more jokes!

Sunday, May 19

110,354 followers

@dunleavy27: Lots of assholes on Twitter.