It was six in the goddamned morning when I was woken up by a pounding at my door.
SIX!
I didn’t get to sleep until just after midnight, which already had me tired and cranky. On top of that, the only thing I’d eaten the day before was junk food, so my stomach was threatening me with a truly biblical bowel movement.
“It’s Malachi,” the voice whisper-yelled from the other side of the door, “I’m here about the bat.”
The way he said bat made it sound like code for something else. Which was strange, but also very on-brand for Malachi, based on the single interaction I’d had with him so far.
Better late than never, I thought. I just wanted my fridge back. I still don’t know how that bat survived in there. Cryogenic slumber, maybe. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to have happened to me.
When I opened the door Malachi was standing there with a little net in one hand and a cross in the other.
He was wearing the dirtiest white tank top I’d ever seen, denim shorts cut off just above mid-thigh, what I think were once-white tube socks pulled up to mid-shin, one blue flip-flop, and one brown slipper. Since he was old and skinny, everything hung off him like it belonged to someone else.
Under normal circumstances, I would not have let this man anywhere near a place I considered home. But I was barely conscious and deeply bat-motivated.
“Hey,” I said waving him in, “Thanks. It’s in the fridge.”
But did Malachi go to the fridge? No. He took two steps in, dropped to his knees, then set down his net.
“What is happening?” I asked.
“Child,” he said—calling me child—“come and pray with me. Together, we shall vanquish the evil from your home.”
“It’s just a bat,” I said. “But… okay.”
I knelt beside him. He launched into a very standard God give us strength to defeat evil prayer. Pretty uninspired. I kept my eyes open the entire time because Orson spent the whole prayer talking shit.
“This guy,” Orson muttered, “thinks God gives a crap about this trailer park. Infinite planes of existence, infinite beings, and he’s like, ‘Yeah, God’s definitely focused on me.’ Assuming God even exists.”
“What?” I whispered.
“I SAID,” Malachi yelled at me with his eyes still closed, “May God use us as his vessels.”
Then he continued his long-winded prayer.
“You ever heard of the infinite hotel paradox?” Orson asked.
I shook my head. “I’ve never even been to one.”
Malachi snapped his head toward me. “Silence, child! We MUST pray!”
“Infinite trailer park paradox, then,” Orson continued. “Infinite trailers, infinite people, completely full. Can it fit more?”
I didn’t answer. He didn’t need me to.
“The universe is the trailer park, the earth is one trailer, and we are occupying it. So, even if you die, and regardless of you going to Heaven, Hell, or turning into a ghost, you are still occupying the infinite space. Now tell me, if you had an infinite number of kids, or pets, or whatever, and you kept them in an infinite number of trailers, do you think you could give a shit about any more than ten, maybe twenty, at a time?”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
I shook my head.
“AMEN!” Malachi shouted, finally finishing. For all I know, he offered up my soul. He smiled at me, which made my skin crawl.
“Now,” he said, “let us vanquish some evil!”
“I mean,” I said, “it’s still just a bat.”
Malachi handed me the cross and gripped the net pole with both hands, wringing it like he was trying to strangle the shit out of it—which would’ve been impressive, considering it wasn’t alive and didn’t shit.
We crept toward the fridge.
“You don’t need to sneak,” I said. “It can’t open the door.”
Malachi whipped his head around so fast his neck cracked. He stared at me like a cracked-out owl and raised a bony finger to his lips. His eyes somehow got wider. Quite frankly, it scared the ever living shit out of me. Not literally, of course.
That’s when the universe—or God, or my terrible luck—decided to make me look like an idiot.
The fridge door burst open.
The bat exploded into the room.
It slammed into walls, knocked a cup off the counter, and repeatedly dive-bombed me and Malachi as we flailed like morons.
“It’s a bat,” Oron said from the couch, laughing “Just open the door, idiot.”
“It’s a bat,” Orson laughed from the couch. “Just open the door, idiot.”
I ran for the door. The bat followed.
I threw it open. The bat slapped me in the face. Repeatedly. Not random flapping—this thing was targeting me. I assume it held a grudge.
“BEGONE, INSTRUMENT OF EVIL!” Malachi screamed.
Something hard hit my head. Something netty on covered. The bat was still there. Flopping. Squealing. Scratching.
“GET IT OFF ME!” I yelled.
Orson was laughing way too hard for a situation where rabies was on the table.
“Use the cross, my child!” Malachi shouted. “Lay the infernal beast to ruin!”
“No! Just take the net off my head!”
“FIRST—LAY IT TO RUIN!”
I gave up. Pressed the cross to my head.
It sizzled.
The bat went limp.
Malachi ripped the net away. I grabbed the bat and hurled it outside. It landed with a soft thud.
Malachi ran up beside me and screamed directly into my ear, “RETURN TO HELL, DEMON!”
“Dude,” I said, pulling away, “Stop yelling.”
“LOOK!” he shouted. “THE BEAST LIVES!”
The bat stood up. Dusted itself off. Glared at me.
Glared.
Like I just kicked out onto the streets, which I had. Then it flew away with an amount of attitude I didn’t know bats were capable of.
“Do you see, child?” Malachi said. “Evil lurks here. You and I must stick together. Even Dante is… suspicious.”
“Okay, yep, I’ll keep an eye out.” I said, sort of scootching him out the door, “And thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he said, stepping out. He turned and smiled. “Let me know if you need anything else, or see anything strange.” Then he pointed to Calista’s trailer, “Like that one. I can’t prove it, but she may be a demon.”
While he was right, in any other context given his age and religious zealotry, I would just assume he was sexist. However, given the context as I knew it, I wondered how he knew but also couldn’t really see. It was like he only had half a heart brain, but it was a really crazy half.
“Yep,” I said, gently herding him out. “I’ll keep an eye out. Thanks.”
He turned back. “One more thing, child!”
I sighed. “Yeah?”
“Can you bring me more Pepsi?”
“Yes,” I said. “Next time I go to the store.”
“When will that be?”
“Tomorrow? Maybe.”
He looked crushed.
“You could just go buy some,” I suggested.
“I CANNOT!” He shouted, “FOR THE DEVIL LURKS IN EVERY GOD FORSAKEN INCH OF THOSE WRETCHED ISLES!”
“Woah! Alright, chill out,” I said, putting my hands up. “I’ll go today. Promise.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a sinister smile, “God has a plan for you, child. Your obedience and selflessness shall not go unnoticed.”
He finally left.
I shut the door. Orson was grinning.
“What?”
“Yeah, the whole thing,” he said, “but mostly the obedient child bit.”
“Look, he’s deranged, and I don’t want to wake up to find his being the last face I see when he decides I’m also evil and slits my throat in my sleep.” I explained.
“Yeah, that guy is nuts!” Gary shouted from the closet.
“Shut up, Gary!” Orson yelled back.
“It’s Grim!”
“No it isn’t!” Orson said, adding, “You aren’t part of this conversation, plus, how do you even talk? You’ve only got bones?”
“I live here, so I can be part of any conversation,” Gary replied, “And I don’t exactly know. Black magic, maybe? That is none of your business!”
Orson smiled, the pointed a thumb over his shoulder – or, at least, where his thumb would have been – and said, “This guy believes in magic. What an idiot.”
“I heard that!” Gary yelled.
Orson rolled his eyes. I shook my head and smiled.
“Well, clean that bat shit off your head. We’ve got work,” Orson said, pointing to my phone,
“Huh?”
Five voicemails. Same number.
“While you were sleeping, I haunted a family all night.”
“So it’s NOT a real ghost, or monster, or something else trying to kill me?”
“That’s correct.”
“Dude, that’s great!” I could make some money AND grab Malachi’s Pepsi while I was out.
An easy twofer.
Mmm hmm.
Net-like would be the right way to say this, of course. Netty isn’t a word irregardless of what Amir believes.
