The Legend of Tocks House

Three friends walked together eyeing the tree-lined street, the jack-o-lanterns’ orange orbs contrasting the dark.

“Let’s go to the end of Maple.” Cody suggested.“Are you sure? Don’t you want to get back to watch horror movies? My parents are out. Or are you really into the procurement of candy?” Brittany asked. “We’re too old for this. The candymeisters will notice.”

“Yeah. I want to get back and check out Stephen Geoffreys in Fright Night. He’s yummy. I could like seriously bite his neck.” Swooned Chris.

“Let’s go to the end of Maple, guys.”

 

They trudged through affluent American Suburbia. People looked through their windows as Cody ranted. “Affluenza! As a zombie disease!

Need B R A I N S . . . and more stuff! Need G A D G E T S . . . aarrgghh . . .”

“Cody, you crack me up . . .”

“But what about me, Brittany? Don’t I crack you up?”

“Well, of course, Chris.”

“Thanks!”

 

The three stood on the front walk. The house was ranch style, a mass of energy vibrating with consumption.

“What’s that smell?”

It was a sickeningly sweet smell that coated the tongue, inner nostrils, throat and lungs – burning mucosa cells – crossing the blood/brain barrier.

“Aaarrrgghh! The horror . . . the horror. It’s . . . it’s . . . clothes dryer exhaust! They still use Bounce Dryer Sheets! Noooo . . . we’ll be f*cked up for days!” Cody, Brittany and Chris began to stagger and moan and cough. A man opened the front door and wailed on his cigarette on the dark porch. “Hey you damn kids! What the f*ck are you doing on my property? I have a gun in my recliner. Don’t MAKE me go get it!”

Secondhand cigarette smoke drifted through the chemical cacophony, lazily mixing with the benzyls, ethyls and chloroform. In the haze, the kids were limp and uncoordinated – though gorgeously back-lit by streetlights!

The lady of the house appeared with a barrel of air freshener on wheels. “Ralph, I told you not to smoke, g*dd*mm*t!” Ralph put his respirator mask on over his cigarette as Mrs. Ralph pumped blasts of AirWicked Rosy Sweet.

“AIRWICKED ROSY SWEET?” The kids sniffed and screamed in unison, clumsily backing away and trying to run.

 

They leaned into one another as they walked back to Cody’s house. “I don’t feel so good. And I think I just lost I.Q. points.”

“Like dude, this is really f*cked up.”

“Yeah. Like, I can’t get this taste out of my mouth. My tongue is coated with weirdness.”

Cody used his key and entered the front door. “Come on in, you guys. Want some water or super-mega detox?”

“Sure. I could detox.”

“Yeah.”

As they entered the kitchen, Cody’s parents sat at the kitchen table drinking pseudo coffee, Mocha Foca Lite. “What’s the matter with you kids, anyway? Are you on drugs?”