Party favors

“It was the most horrifyin’ thing. She locked us in there with ‘em. I’ll never rid myself of the image, should I live to be a hundred.”

The psychiatrist sat in a chestnut leather armchair just behind his patient’s field of vision. He looked at the blond tightness of her bun and rubbed his hands quietly, anticipatingly. Cases had been considerably more interesting since he’d moved his practice to the suburbs. These prim and wealthy Southern housewives were the most fascinating of all. Under the supremely anaesthetized decorum of their external lives, countless dark perversions slunk.

“First we must calm ourselves. Inhale… exhale. That’s it. Now, start at the beginning.”

“Okay, well. We’re at the house of Mrs. Patti Cross. She’s throwin’ this baby shower for Wanda Thomas, another neighbor of ours, who’s seven months and fit to burst… ‘Bout six of us are gathered ‘round, gossipin’, drinkin’ coffee, watchin’ Wanda open her gifts. As normal as you please, ‘cept for Mrs. Patti, who’s behavin’… I’ll say, a bit strange. But lord knows, she’s always been an odd duck. I figure she’s secretly upset ‘bout Wanda, ‘bout another pregnancy on our block – see, she’s never been able to conceive, and we’re all happy mothers. Everything’s well enough, though, until Patti says she has a surprise for us… something havin’ to do with party favors. And she leads us out into the backyard…”

“Go on, Mrs. Boulevardier.”

“Well. She directs us to this tiny shed at the end of her garden. Motions us through the door, says our favors are inside. Me and Wanda and the other ladies troop in. Can’t see anything at first, it’s so dark comin’ from that bright outdoor sun. Then quick as a rabbit, the crazy woman flicks a switch and locks the latch!”

His patient drew in a soft gasp that could have been part hiccup. The psychiatrist suppressed a chuckle. He cleared his throat, and asked in the most even of tones, “And what was in there, Mrs. Boulevardier? What did you see?”

“Her… they were… oh!”

“Yes…?”

“Dead fetuses! Six of ‘em, floatin’ in jars! Horrid, grotesque, misshapen things. I’ll never scrub my mind clean of it…”

~ by kingzoko on November 22, 2013.

One Response to “Party favors”

  1. woah.. that was weird and i loved it

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