Party Planning: A Short Story about Marriage and Murder.

 

“Karen! The girls are here!” her husband Stephen’s voice echoed up the stairs.

“I’ll be right down!” Karen called back. But she didn’t move. She continued staring at the black duffel bag in her bedroom closet.

“Bitch, get down here I brought wine!” a woman shouted from the foyer. 

Dragging her eyes away from the bag, Karen headed downstairs. 

Three people looked up as she came down.

“You ready to party?” her friend Susan said with a grin, holding up two bottles of merlot.

“I made gluten-free vegan cupcakes!” her other friend Jenn chimed in. “Stephen, do you want to take one for the road?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Gluten-free vegan? Thanks but I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” Jenn winked at Karen. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Sure you don’t want to stick around for a glass of wine?” she asked Stephen once they left.

“Nah, I’ve gotta run or I’ll be late for bowling,” Stephen said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “What are you and the girls up to tonight?”

“The usual. Wine. Chick-flicks. Setting off firecrackers…”

“Plotting my surprise birthday party tomorrow…”

Karen smacked his arm. “We are not! Now get out of here before we force you to stay and watch Pretty in Pink.”

Stephen opened the door, letting in a rush of humid summer air. He paused, then turned back. “Oh yeah, the guys said something about going out for a drink after bowling, so I might not be home till late.”

Karen shrugged. “No problem. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The door closed behind him. Karen gazed blankly at the white wooden surface.

“So, did you decide?” Susan asked, handing her a glass of wine.

“Yeah,” Karen sipped the merlot, savoring the rich flavor. “I think it’s time.”

Susan nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s get down to business.”

Jenn came up behind them, the tray of cupcakes in her hand. “You guys want one? They aren’t really gluten-free. I just didn’t want him to have one.”

“Cheaters don’t get cupcakes,” Susan said archly, taking a pastry.

“Exactly. So Karen, have you decided what to get Stephen for his birthday?” Jenn asked, anticipation in her voice.

Karen bit into the sugary frosting of her cupcake, licking her lips. She stared out the window as Stephen’s car pulled out of the drive and down the street.

She thought about the black duffel bag in their bedroom closet. The one that contained his bowling ball and shoes. The one that hadn’t moved in more than a month, despite the fact that Stephen went “bowling” twice a week. 

“I think I’m going to get him a nice big steaming pile of revenge.”

There was a long pause. “Okay easy there, Tarantino,” Jenn said with a chuckle. 

But Susan nodded thoughtfully. “Let’s do it. Karen, let’s get him a gift he won’t forget.”

“Oh, I’m totally in,” Jenn agreed. “What is this, his fourth time sleeping with one of his students?”

“Fifth,” Karen said. “And I’m pretty sure this latest one isn’t even eighteen. She’s a freshman at the university!”

“Guys with little dicks always go for young women,” Susan said sagely. “‘Cause they hope they won’t know any better.”

They wandered back into the kitchen. “Okay, so I think you should make his birthday present super nasty,” Jenn said, taking a healthy gulp of wine. “Maybe if you get him something for his birthday that like…makes it super obvious that’s he’s a cheating scumbag?

“Like one of those singing cards, but instead of recording a happy birthday message, we could record his mother saying how disappointed she is in him!” Susan suggested, polishing off her glass.

Karen finished hers as well, and topped everyone off. “Except his mother’s been dead for ten years, so that kinda doesn’t work.”

Jen perked up. “Oh! What if you got him something super dangerous? So like, he gets horribly maimed, but it looks like an accident?”

“Like what? A cobra?” Karen asked, already feeling light-headed. 

“Awww no!” Susan protested. “Cause then if Stephen dies they’ll blame the poor snake and kill it!”

“You’re right. No innocent reptile should have to suffer just because my husband can’t keep his snake in his trousers,” Karen giggled.

“What about getting him hang-gliding lessons? You could always cross your fingers and hope he smashes into a mountain.” Jenn poured the last dregs of a bottle into her glass.

“Or sky-diving!” Susan chimed in, her cheeks flushed crimson. “You could even pay the pilot to like…I dunno, mess with his parachute or something.”

Karen shook her head. “I thought about that. But everything is so well-regulated these days, you can’t just pay for an unfortunate accident anymore. Chances are, Stephen would end up having a great time, and isn’t that kind of against the point?”

Susan opened the next bottle of merlot. “Okay, what if we went for good old-fashioned payback instead? We bail on the party, leave his ass high and dry without a cake and everything. Then we catch a bus down to Mexico. Get a bunch of tequila shots and…I don’t know, find a donkey show or something.”

Karen snorted into her wine. “Do you even know what a donkey show is?”

Susan looked confused. “Isn’t it like…people doing magic tricks with a donkey?” 

“Umm…not exactly.”

“Actually, that gives me an idea! What if we cut Stephen’s dick off and feed it to a donkey!” Jenn said, downing her glass.

“Woah! When did we start talking about cutting off dicks!” 

“Do donkeys even eat dicks?” Susan asked, slurring a little. “Shouldn’ we like…feed it to like a lion or something?”

“Maybe if we painted it orange to look like a carrot…”

“So wait…we’re going to cut his dick off and then take it down to Mexico? Won’t they stop us at the border and ask about the dismembered wang?” Susan emptied her glass, “How is that a birthday present?”

Karen’s head was spinning. “Maybe let’s discuss some options that don’t involve donkeys. Let’s head into the living room and think it over.”

Jenn tucked the bottle under her arm as she and Susan filtered into the living room, still debating which member of the animal kingdom would most efficiently dispose of a severed member.

Karen finished off her glass. Then, stumbling a little, she grabbed the tray of cupcakes off the counter and had just begun to follow them when she heard a soft knock on the door.

Her body jerked like a scalded cat at the unexpected noise. The tray flew from her fingers, sending a dozen cupcakes soaring in a wide arc across the kitchen. They landed with a series of soft splats as they smushed against the tiled floor, smearing the waxed surface with icing. 

“Goddammit!” she clutched the counter to keep from falling as the wine rushed to her head. 

The knock came again. Ignoring the mess, Karen crept into the foyer, her heart pounding. 

The bickering from the living room fell silent. “Karen, who is it?” Jenn’s voice called in a mock-whisper. Her head popped into view, eyes wide. Another bottle of wine–already half-gone–was clutched in her hand. 

“I have no idea!” she whisper-shouted back. 

“Well we’re kinda trying to plan a penis-chopping over here, so–oh no what happened to my cupcakes!”

“Shhhh!” Karen approached the door, then hesitated. “But wait, I need more wine!”

Smothering a laugh, Jenn crept forward and filled her glass, then retreated into the living room.

Karen looked out the peephole. It took a moment to focus her eyes. 

A tiny woman with snowy white hair stood on her porch, a colorfully wrapped package in her hands and a canvas bag slung over one shoulder. She must have sensed someone standing on the other side because she waved cheerfully. “Yoo-hoo! Karen! It’s Mrs. Perkins from next door.”

Karen let out her breath in a rush, took a sip of wine. “It’s just my batty neighbor. Hang on a sec.”

She cracked the door an inch, smiled brightly, and tried to sound sober. “Hi, Mrs. Perkins!”

“Hello Karen, dearie!” the old woman said in a thin, wavering voice. “I just saw your husband leaving for the evening, so I wanted to drop this by before his party tomorrow.”

“Oh, well…thank you so much!” Karen said, opening the door all the way to accept the package. “I’ll make sure to give it to him tomorrow.”

“It’s a crocheted holder for his bowling ball!” Mrs. Perkins said. Her smile didn’t fade as she met Karen’s eyes. “I made it myself. After all, we all know how much Stephen loves bowling.”

“Ummm, yes of course.”Mrs. Perkins’ face was a bit blurred from the wine, but Karen had a feeling she knew more than she was letting on.

Of course she did. The old widow spent half her life peering out the windows of her house. She knew everybody’s business better than they did themselves. 

Susan gave a pointed cough from the living room, jolting Karen out of her thoughts. Ah yes, she was supposed to be planning to exact a horrible revenge upon her cheating husband, not chatting with the neighbors. 

Tucking the package under one arm, she smiled brightly at Mrs. Perkins. “Well, thank you so much for stopping by, but I’ve actually got some company and—”

“Actually, would you mind if I sat down for a moment before heading back? These old legs aren’t what they used to be.”

‘They can’t carry you thirty feet across the street’? Karen wanted to say. But politeness won out. “Of course, please come in,” she said, opening the door to let the elderly woman in.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jenn and Susan rolling their eyes.

Mrs. Perkins shuffled in, so stooped with age she barely reached the top of Karen’s chin. “I’m so glad I caught you tonight, dearie. I have a gift for you as well.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” Karen started to say, but Mrs. Perkins gave her a pointed look and she fell silent.

“So your husband is off bowling tonight, is he?” she said. “Are you sure he isn’t over at the Huntsman Motel, balls deep in one of his art students?”

Karen stared at her, wide-eyed. The feeble tremor had gone from Mrs. Perkins’ voice, and her gaze was flinty and sharp. 

“I’m–I’m absolutely certain that’s none of your business,” Karen responded with as much dignity as she could muster, considering that her words were thickened by wine. 

The kind smile vanished from the old woman’s face. “I’m here because I want to help you.”

“Well I don’t really think we need—”

“My Arthur was a cheater too, did you know that, dearie?” Mrs. Perkins asked. She came further into the house. Susan and Jenn were both standing in the doorway of the living room. Karen noticed the second bottle of wine was nearly empty. 

“Now this was back when it was considered almost normal for a man to get a little on the side. And for years, I turned the other cheek, just like you.”

Karen glared at her, but said nothing.

Mrs. Perkins’ lips thinned. “But one year, I caught him sleeping with my sister, and that was just the final straw. So do you know what I did then, dearie?”

“You cut off his cock and fed it to a donkey!” Jenn cried, her eyes slightly glazed.

Mrs. Perkins gave a light chuckle. “No, I killed him!”

Karen waited for her laugh again, to acknowledge that she was joking. But she didn’t. She looked each of them in the eye, still smiling faintly.

“Wait, seriously?” Susan asked.

“Well of course! It was easy enough in the end. My great-uncle owned a hog farm. So I waited for Arthur to get knock-down drunk, which only took about three days after I’d decided to kill him. Then I whacked him with a shovel, drug him to the truck, drove him out to the farm, shoved him in with the pigs and told everyone he ran off.” She said all of this as if reciting a recipe for apple pie.

“Pigs. Of course,” Jenn murmured. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

Karen blinked, staring at her friends. Initially, she had been thinking of something less…drastic. A gift that would tell him “Hey you jerkoff, keep your dick in your pants”.

Not necessarily one that would remove his dick entirely. Or his life.

Although there was a certain amount of poetic justice to the idea…

Mrs. Perkins waved a hand dismissively, “Of course, you can’t kill a man like that anymore. Everyone’s onto the pig farms now.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that at least twice on NCIS,” Susan agreed. “We’d have to find a different way to dispose of the body.”

“But I have a plan that might work,” Mrs. Perkins said. “If you’re interested.”

“Maybe we could squish him with something big!” Jenn suggested, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“Pretty sure that only works if you’re a cartoon rabbit,” Susan said sarcastically.

“Wait wait wait,” Karen finally interjected. She blinked, trying to focus her drunken thoughts. “Are you guys seriously saying we should consider this?”

Jenn shrugged. “I mean, it’s his birthday, but you could see it as getting a gift for yourself. Since he wouldn’t be around to enjoy it.”

Karen chewed on her lower lip.

Mrs. Perkins gave a barking cough. “Well I haven’t got all day, dearie. Did you want some advice or not?”

Karen thought of the black duffel bag sitting in her closet, and of her husband, who was currently shacked up with a teenager.

From the canvas bag her shoulder, Mrs. Perkins brought out a bottle of brandy. “I think you girls have a lot yet to learn. Men like your husband simply cannot be tolerated.”

Silence.

“But I can teach you, if you’d like.”

More silence.

Susan cleared her throat. “I mean…the least we could do is hear her out.”

“Oh please, dearie, do let me help,” Mrs. Perkins said. She handed the bottle of brandy to Jenn, who uncorked and sniffed, her eyes fluttering closed. 

“Now, if you girls do exactly as I say, there’s no reason why Karen shouldn’t be free of her cheating husband by Monday.”

Karen looked at her friends. Susan shrugged her consent.

Jenn was already in the kitchen, getting a fourth glass.

Mrs. Perkins shone with a sudden, hungry gleam. She glanced at Karen. “Well, dearie?”

Karen hesitated only a moment, then said, “Why don’t you come in and have a drink, Mrs. Perkins?”

“Excellent,” the old woman said, rubbing her hands together. “I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time.”

Jenn handed her a glass of brandy. The old woman retrieved a thin package from her bag.

Karen felt a cold fist clench around her heart. 

“Shall we begin?”

 

Song of the Siren: Chapter Two

If you haven’t already, be sure to check out Chapter One!

 

SYRA: THE HUNT

Thirty miles to the east and more than two miles down, a group of hunters approached their unsuspecting prey.

Five armed warriors crept through the blackness, moving silently in a world where silence was absolute. They swam in a loose formation; the leader flanked by her most trusted fighters who were in turn flanked by junior hunters. Their powerful fishtails were tense and coiled, barely flickering in the water as the group proceeded inch by cautious inch towards the hulking monster that lurked in the darkness. 

Enormous solid-black eyes dominated their faces; they stared unblinkingly ahead, attuned to the smallest particle of light. Around each hunter’s head floated a halo of thick black hairs. 

These sensory tendrils perceived even the tiniest vibration, the smallest change in the water pressure. Right now each one was sending a wealth of information to the figures as they communicated silently with one another, devising a plan of attack.

Each of their long, thin hands were clutched around their krakana, sturdy bone spears. Each was tipped with a variety of sharpened bone and teeth. The leader’s weapon was wickedly curved, hewn from the lower jaw of a great white shark.

At her signal, all five of the creatures stopped and surveyed their prey.

The giant squid stretched forty feet from its upper fins to the tips of the powerful, dangling tentacles that it used to push through the water with tremendous force. There were ten arms in total, eight short ones and two long. Each covered with rubbery, biting suction cups running along their length. These arms ended at the squid’s bone-crushing beak, and hungry mouth. 

Its eyes were gigantic, almost a foot in diameter, and they pierced through the darkness in search of small fish and other prey. 

As the hunters gathered around the beast, it located an angler fish. Faster than seemed possible, a tentacle shot out and wrapped around the struggling animal. In another heartbeat the fish had been swallowed by the hungry squid, leaving behind only a faint dusting of scales that drifted idly to the ocean floor.

The dark eyes of the hunters were now fixed solely on their leader. She made a series of quick, abbreviated hand gestures, trying to disturb the water as little as possible. Her warriors dispersed, spreading out in a slow fan. They moved into position, each fighter at a distance that would keep her just out of reach of the squid’s gripping tentacles.

The leader swam up a few feet until she was almost directly above her prey. It’s constantly shifting eyes roamed over her and she froze, not a single sensory tendril wafting in the water. The squid didn’t see her in the blackness, and she slowly raised one arm to the side of her head, then jerked it down suddenly.

Now!

Flashes of bioluminescent light erupted from all angles. Its massive eyes unprepared for the sudden onslaught, the animal was struck momentarily blind.

The leader lit up a red stripe of light along her spine, signalling the second stage of the attack.  Her hunters took their places at the base of the largest tentacles, krakanas poised and ready. 

Raising her shark-jaw spear, she slashed down violently into the soft skin of the squid’s mantle.

The wounded beast twisted violently in the water, stretching it’s murderous tentacles blindly in search of its attacker. One of her hunters was knocked sideways by the power of the squid’s movements. She sank heavily into the soft floor of the seabed, kicking up a billowing cloud of sand.

Now the world was a blur of sand and blood and black, inky water as the squid turned and thrashed in the water. Another warrior flashed a bright white glow next to the animal’s sensitive eyes and it shrank back from the sudden light, allowing her sister to get close enough to begin slashing at the squid’s powerful arms. 

 The animal drew its arms protectively into its body, leaving only the two longest tentacles to continue sweeping for the source of its pain. 

Red light began flashing wildly as one of the tentacles wrapped itself blindly around the leg of a hunter and began drawing her towards its snapping jaws. Her powerful tail beat the already cloudy water until all that could be seen was the rapidly flickering red light moving closer to the squid’s mouth.

The leader raced to her trapped hunter, slashing again and again with the serrated blade of her spear. But the squid’s arms were thick and muscular. Her blade scratched the surface but couldn’t penetrate deeply enough to break the squid’s grip. 

The other three hunters began flashing in rapid succession, confusing the large predator. It twisted and doubled back. 

Suddenly the leader of the warriors was face to face with the animal’s enormous rolling eye.

 It was larger than her head, and rimmed in white. It looked directly at her with a terrible intelligence.

It saw her.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she withdrew a sharpened bone dagger from a sheath on her hip and buried it into the squid’s eye, piercing it’s brain.

Dead, the animal sank slowly to the ocean floor below.

 

***

 

The hunters now fell to the task of gutting and butchering the massive squid. They worked mostly in complete darkness, only occasionally flashing a bioluminescent signal to one another. They moved as a well-trained unit; each one falling to their usual tasks with little need for communication.

First, they sawed off each of the long arms, twisting and knotting them together to form a bulky but manageable bundle. The heavy mantle contained the majority of the meat, and they sliced it into long, thing strips. They keep all the edible organs intact, discarding only the black line of intestine that ran along its body.

The squid’s enormous eyes were wrapped in carefully in a square of seasilk and set aside. A gift for the Gods.

Some of them took trophies from the kill. As the one who had delivered the killing blow, the leader claimed the animal’s strong beak as her prize. Another hunter cut away a piece of toothed sucker and affixed it to a bone necklace, where it joined the suckers of eleven previous hunts.

When they were finished, the lingering traces of blood in the water were the only evidence of the recent violence. Already though, scavengers were arriving upon the scene, drawn by the lingering scent of the squid’s entrails. A finless hagfish swam lazily a few inches above the ocean floor, seeking out any scraps of meat that may have fallen to the silty ground.

Dead, the giant squid weighed more than four hundred pounds, and there was enough to spare that the hunters did not begrudge the hungry fish a few mouthfuls. From behind a nearby rock they retrieved several wide, flat pieces of bone, scavenged from the skull of a fallen whale. 

Using thin, flexible lengths of seasilk, four of the hunters bound the enormous sections of squid to the bone, then wound the shimmering white fabric around their shoulders. Harnessed to these makeshift sleds, the warriors kicked strongly, their powerful scarlet-red tails stirring up the silty sediment of the seabed.

Underwater, the hunters were able to carry loads many times their own body weight. They had also been trained in strength and stamina since birth, and their muscular bodies strained at the sturdy seasilk until the heavy loads began shifting slowly, and then with greater speed. The captain of the warriors took her place at the center of the pack, unencumbered except by her sharkbone spear. 

The band of hunters began the slow, four-hour journey back to their city, the heads of the four bent as they dragged the heavy whalebone sleds. The leaders eyes were huge in her face, on a constant swivel as they cut through the infinite darkness of the abyssal plain. 

An auspicious hunt. No one injured except Mara, and even that was only a sucker-bite. 

The leader took a moment to peer back at her Beta, her right-hand fighter. Mara and their fellow pack-sister Tyre were the veterans of nearly a dozen hunts, and the violent bouts against the squid had left all three of them pocked with circular scars left by the animal’s toothed tentacles. Even her two junior warriors, Jada and Aeleon, bore signs of their encounters with the giant squid.

The meat from this kill will feed the people of Lai’lore for at least three months. A sure sign after so many failed hunts. Relief washed over her, though she was careful to keep her face expressionless. Perhaps the Gods have finally been appeased.

The sensory hairs on her head picked up a vibration coming from ahead of the group and she swam aggressively ahead, flashing her B. spinal ridges in warning. A flash of blue lights flickered back, signalling to the group of heavily armed warriors.

No Threat.

Spear still poised at the ready, the leader closed her eyes and focused, summoning her energy. A soft glow began under her ribcage and spread slowly until her entire body was illuminated in a glowing yellow light from the top of her head to the very tips of her tail flukes.

Where a moment ago there had been eternal blackness there was now a shining halo around the leader of the hunters. Her hair flowed wildly, the sensory tendrils swaying in the otherwise still water. Behind her, her fellow warriors bowed low, still dragging the heavy sleds.

It was a display of great and dreadful magic, known and feared by all the denizens of the deep waters. Immediately, the approaching creature froze and began showing red flickers.

A sign of subservience. One of their own. Clearly visible now in the yellow light emanating from her body, the leader beckoned the newcomer forward.

She was thin, with a long silver torso ending in a bright cerulean-blue tail. Across her chest was a gleaming sash of white seasilk bearing a distinctive stylized spiral.

A messenger. From the Temple of the High Priestess. She hovered at the edge of the light shining from the leader of the hunters and, wide black eyes downcast, that she had a message for the leader. She was still visibly trembling in the presence of the leader’s shining yellow aura. 

Poor thing. Why in the Abyss was she sent out here without protection? She loosened the tension in her abdomen, and the glowing light quickly faded, leaving them surrounded once more in safe, comfortable darkness.

“What could possibly be so important that my grandmother would send you all the way out here alone, young one?” the leader asked. She communicated in a combination of high-pitched whistles and clicks, bioluminescent flickers, and broad hand motions which created traveling vibrations in the water. 

“Pardon me, Lady Syra,” the young woman answered with a deep bow, her voice still quaking with fear from the leader’s earlier show of aggression. “The High Priestess commands that you come to the Temple at once.”

The lead warrior, Syra, scoffed and gestured to the heavily laden females behind her,  “My warriors are already returning after a successful hunt. We are tired and thirsty. Tonight we will give our offerings to the Gods. Can my grandmother not wait until then?”

The young messenger bowed again, but was already shaking her head, “She says you are to leave the others behind and come at once. An offering has been found.”

“We have an offering wrapped up in the sleds behind me!” Syra gestured impatiently.

“No, my Lady–”

“Don’t call me my Lady. Syra will do,” she interrupted.

Yes my L– Syra,” the messenger stumbled on her words, misery painted clearly on her features. “But your grandmother said that an offering had been found, and that you were to come back immediately. She said something about it being a “sacrificial” off–”

“That’s enough.” Syra cut the girl off again, and she fell silent. “You will stay here with my warriors. They will see that you return safely to Tessai.”

Now she spoke directly to her first hunter, “Mara, divide your load between the others and take lead. See them back safely, sister”

Mara gave her a fierce, proud look and said nothing. There was no need. The two had been raised together since infancy, they knew each other’s minds as well as their own. 

Still clutching her long spear, Syra left her fellow hunters behind and began swimming in the direction of the City as fast as she could. Almost instantly the dark closed around her and she was swimming alone through the silent blackness. She swam mindlessly, lost in her thoughts.

A sacrifice had been found.

How many years it had been? Before Syra’s time, so at least twenty years ago. In that time, the Gods had grown angry and restless. So many eggs failed to hatch, and too many of the surviving hatchlings were sickly and weak. Most did not survive to see their second year.

The people of the Abyss were growing restless as well, and fearful of what further devastation the Gods might unleash if they were denied their rightful gifts. Already there were rumors from neighboring communities of violent shakings within the Abyss, and plumes of black smoke that spewed up from the chasm.

A sacrifice was desperately needed, and Syra sent a silent prayer down to the Gods that they were able to send along an appropriate offering in time.

Still, her heart hammered as she thought of what surely awaited at the Temple of the Abyss.

A pure offering to the Gods Below could only come from the Realm Above.

One of them would have to undergo the perilous journey to the surface, lure the sacrifice into the water, and drag it down to the Abyss as a gift to the Gods.

Let it be me. Syra clutched her krakana tight, and swam faster through the darkness.The silty sea floor was midnight black beneath her tailfins as she raced to obey her grandmother’s summons.

The High Priestess did not like to be kept waiting.

Click here for Chapter Three!

Mexican Food in Northern Ontario

This afternoon, out of sheer curiosity, I typed “mexican restaurants near me” into Google.

It told me to drive to Winnipeg. 😐

#littlehouseinthebigwoods #firstsugggestionwasDairyQueen