Slack Slacker Meets The Dark Demon of the Black Mausoleum
While I know it might come as a shock and surprise that I’ll be out of the office today, I felt it was imperative everyone was made aware of this fact as soon as possible. Considering you’ve all been depending on the final tabulations of the company’s expenses for the last three fiscal quarters, not to mention the budget analysis for RetroVison Media’s advertising expenditures in 2017, you should all know the situation preventing my presence is both dire and ongoing. When KLB returns from her interview at Trump Tower for that Communications Director position, please advise her of the following:
It was 3:49 PM when my friend Alki Holic rang me on my cell, sounding distressed and distraught. So much so, that I could barely understand what he was all choked up about. Finally, he began telling me a sob story about his beloved grammy croaking last week and she was being laid to rest this evening. He asked me if I would roll with him upstate to the internment site for emotional support. And to be honest, I had other plans for the evening, but when he said my best bud Slick Slimy was brining the Tequila for the wake, I couldn’t let a pal down when he was in such need. I said okay, count me in.
It was 5:09 when Slick, Alki and I met outside the lobby for a quick walk to the parking garage. After a short wait for the parking attendant to delivery Alki’s Rover, we were headed for Interstate 87. Once we hit Yonkers, we told Alki to stomp the peddle, because it was already dark and the idea of being in a cemetery in the pitch black was a little creepy. He did and after only two piss stops for Slick, we were pulling up to the gates of the most ominous landscape of moonlit tombstones one could possibly imagine. Some of them seemed to be monolithic monuments to sheer madness. “Dude, do think this is the right place?” Slick and I wondered aloud. ”Yeah”, Alki answered, “why do you think I didn’t want to come alone?”
Just then, a tall thin woman, dressed in black, with her face covered and carrying a rusted lantern, appeared at Alki’s window. Barely above a whisper, she invited us to follow her across the field of dead memories to a huge dimly lit structure sitting atop a grassy knoll. It was a black granite mausoleum. Since the woman in black was a stranger to Alki, we agreed to followed, but did so with caution. I don’t know why, but that felt like a good idea. When we arrived, apparently we were too late for the main event. Most of the mourners had either left or were leaving. Some, hurriedly. Alki tried to speak with some of his relatives, but they didn’t respond. They didn’t even acknowledge his presence. I thought it was weird, but it wasn’t my family, so it wasn’t my business.
Slick and I slipped outside after a short while and had a few swigs from his flask, while watching the freak parade of Alki’s kin leave the building. And calling it a freak parade was being kind because every one of them had some crazy physical malady. If it wasn’t a giant hump on somebody’s back, it was a hook on the end of an arm or a crude peg-leg attached to a thigh. Or worse, all of the above. And the one guy who did appear to have all his shit together, shocked the bejesus out of us when we realized both his eyes were occupying the same socket on the left side of his head. Slick and I took a few more swigs and tried to keep the laughter down. It was then Alki came out and asked us to join him and a distant cousin he’d just met for a final farewell. So we did.
But, if Slick and I hadn’t stood outside getting fu@ked up as long a we did, we’d have noticed the only light left in the huge mausoleum was the old rusted lantern the woman in black was holding. We were invited to join the others in a circle drawn on the polished marble floor with strange markings within it. Unknowingly, we said okay, let’s do this. The woman in black began to moan and groan as Alki’s distant cousin started chanting what could only be described as gibberish. When the woman in black began to disrobe and start erotically writhing on the polished floors in the ecstasy of enjoying some sexual fantasy, Slick offered her a swig. I wasn’t so sure. I was looking for the nearest exit. I’d been to enough send offs to know something strange was about to go down and I knew this was a good time to bid these people a fast farewell and be on my way. But it was too late.
The foundation of the massive structure began to shake, shift and rattle some of the coffins around. And while that shook some sense back into Slick, Alki appeared transfixed on what had to be some sick evil ritual being played out. Slick tried to get Alki’s attention, but the now naked women writhing on the floor was moaning and groaning so loudly he couldn’t be heard. Unfortunately, that didn’t matter now, because the naked woman’s moans and groans was resurrecting the remains of some dark demon looking creature. Yeah, as if it was cued up by a B-movie director, moonlight streamed through a broken window, allowing me to read the name carved in granite just beneath our feet. The Dark Demon Rests Here.
The “Oh Shit” moment came when the demon-like being materialized from rancid smelling fumes emanating from the naked woman’s crotch with legs crossed and hands out repeating the same weird gibberish Alki’s cousin was chanting. Slick slapped the living hell out of Alki to bring him out of his trance and luckily it worked because we were both good to run, but not to drive. Together we made a beeline for the enormous gothic doors but as bad luck would have it, they were locked. The Dark Demon, with horns protruding from his head, reached out and grabbed the naked woman along with the mysterious chanting cousin and consumed them both. Dematerializing as magically as The Dark Demon manifested itself, the naked woman and the mysterious chanting cousin simply disappeared into The Dark Demon’s essence of malevolence. Another “Oh Shit” moment. It was time to bust a move.
We ran like cowards on steroids, banging and yelling for help in all directions. Fortunately, The Dark Demon followed Alki, giving Slick and I time to find a small wooden door we’d missed in our panicked state. We smashed through it without even trying the knob. Falling face first into the mud as we hit the ground outside, we scrambled to our feet and stumbled through the graveyard searching for Alki’s Rover. All the while, we’re trying to block out the horrible screams from Alki in the fading distance. When we found the Rover, you guessed it, we had no keys. MOTHER-FU@KER, we gotta go back.
Returning across the field of dead memories, we saw Alki’s head rolling down the grassy knoll. We started to turn and run, but Alki’s head called out pleading for us to save him. We couldn’t say no, because we could see Alki had the keys in his mouth. Slick picked up what was left of Alki, tucked the bloody head under his arm and we made our way back to the Rover. Sitting Alki on the front passenger’s seat, I hit the gas and burned some rubber. When it looked as though we’d put a safe distance between ourselves and The Dark Demon, we asked Alki what that hell went on back there, but before he could explain, a state trooper was pulling us over for exceeding the speed limit and driving recklessly. MOTHER-FU@KER, MOTHER-FU@KER, MOTHER-FU@KER!!
When the officer noticed the Rover was registered to a guy named Alki Holic and eventually found a severed head in the car, Slick and I knew we had a lot of explaining to do because Alki’s head wasn’t talking anymore. So, with your prayers, we’re hoping this situation can be resolved before Monday morning, but you never know, some people might find this account of the evening difficult to believe.
Sincerely Slack Slacker