Welcome!
This week’s story is a blood-drenched psychological horror about a guy who probably needed a hug, while my recommendations roundup will tell tell you when a hug is not appropriate.
Flash Fiction: Willem Dafoe’s Face
Greg puked on the grass verge near the disco. In the moonlight, the mess of hot dogs and fries looked like an autopsy photo of guts. The blood splashed over the back seats was black oily paint.
He didn’t understand how could want them so much when they were alive, yet be so disgusted when they were dead. He could stop at the bridge to get rid of the body if he drove the long way home.
When he arrived, it wasn’t in the trunk.
He even got on his knees to look under the car, in case it had fallen out and rolled there. He had definitely killed the man in the back seat. He had definitely pulled the body out and dumped it in the trunk. The ticklish sensation of enjoying the still-warm skin, while repulsion built in his throat at the blood like greasy sweat, was fresh.
He thought he remembered the thump of the trunk lid slamming shutbefore he puked and drove off. He was always so careful. Could he have left a dead body beside a pile of puke with his DNA in it?
The car wouldn’t start. He got out again to push, but it moved an inch before rolling back to its original position. It didn’t matter about the puke, if they caught him on the bridge in a blood-drenched car.
He was trapped unless someone helped him. He dropped to his knees beside the car and prayed to God. He swore he’d never do it again, if the car would start. It was a lie, and Greg knew it. His God, who had Willem Dafoe’s face, but meth teeth and calluses on his knuckles, knew it too.
Greg stood. The body was in the driver’s seat. He met Greg’s stare of disbelief with disgust.
Greg thought about jumping into the river himself. It was where all the bodies went. There was a beauty in that pattern. But he couldn’t stand the thought of the cold water in his lungs, or the rocks on the riverbed smashing his teeth.
If he walked home, maybe he could slit his wrists in the bath before the police arrived. Caught but not caught. There was a beauty in that idea, too.
Instead, he got in on the passenger’s side. Just to see what would happen.
For the longest time, nothing did. Then the rears doors opened, and the car filled itself with the stench of sweet decay and musty clothes.
The car coughed into life, like spitting out water, and they drove off the way they’d come.
In Case You Missed It This Week:
Watch!
A comedy-horror show with puppets? Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared is as good as it sounds!
Check out the new series on Channel 4! Compare them with the original YouTube videos!! Don’t Be Scared!!! Have Fun!!?
Watch!
After being postponed due to the death of Queen Elizabeth II, Stewart Lee’s Tornado is now available on BBC’s iPlayer for UK viewers! Get blown away here!
Watch!
Jarleth Regan is a new stand-up comedian for me. Maybe you’ve already heard of him, but here’s a full hour of comedy first posted online in June 2022.
Enjoy!
(Excerpted from my newsletter dated 1st October, 2022. Sign up for the full, up-to-date experience!)
