It was a Saturday night and my wife and I were celebrating our first weekend in our new dream house. I never thought we'd be able to afford it but the gods must have been smiling down on us that fateful day last month because we got it for a steal and a half.
"You feel anything yet?"
"Nope. Not a thing."
Me and Maureen had just eaten our first ever magic mushrooms. We were, I suppose, late bloomers, what being in our early fifties. But, Mo just could never bring herself to throw anything out; even if it was a large bag of psychedelic mushrooms she'd discovered in one of the moving boxes amongst my son's things.
"Don't you feel like a hypocrite?"
I looked at Mo. "All parents are hypocrites. At least a little, I suppose."
"Well, mine weren't."
Mo started giggling, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. I admit it was infectious and I couldn't help but join in.
Mo's dad had been a respected minister who ended up being doused in gasoline and set ablaze by a young boy whose last words were, "he buggerered [sic] me," prior to plunging through a closed window and plummeting six stories to his death. After that an army of urchins came forward to agree that, yes, he had buggered them all too.
"Maybe we should eat a few more?"
"When in doubt; pig out," I opined.
We forced down another handful of the mushrooms.
"They taste like ass," Mo said.
"Whose?"
"Yours!"
Mo began to giggle. Only a little at first. Then, a little more. It wasn't long before the floodgates burst open. I lit a cigarette as I watched Mo yuk it up. I didn't think it was all that funny until about five minutes later when I heard myself say, "Mine."
That set Mo off all over again and for the next ten minutes we were on the floor wrasslin' paroxysms of laughter.
"Ass!"
"Whose?"
"Yours!"
"Wash... yo.... ass..."
Yeah, I suppose you had to be there. When we were mostly done with the guffawathon I took inventory of myself, fearing I may have burst a blood vessel or some such.
"I peed myself," Mo informed me.
She hiked up her skirt, proudly flashing me a large pee stain on her Betty Boop panties.
"Mr. Bubble?" I asked.
"Well, he does make getting clean almost as much fun as getting dirty..."
An hour later we were squeaky clean and tripping balls in our new living room.
Mo picked up a pen and pad off the coffee table.
"Wanna play hangman?"
"What're you, five years old?" I asked.
I looked at Mo. Her face looked different. I mean it was Mo and all but then again it really wasn't. She knitted her brows, scribbling furiously on the pad. I noticed she held the pen in her right hand.
Mo was a southpaw.
After a couple of minutes my curiosity got the better of me. I got up out of my new La Z Boy and plopped down next to her on the couch.
This is what Mo had written on the legal pad, only I didn't recognize the handwriting:
Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....Johnny Angel? I know you're there....
"You. Are. Trip. Ping," I said snatching the pen and pad away from her.
The next thing I knew, somehow, Mo had the pen and pad once again in her possession. She continued to scribble furiously. I looked down at the page. It said:
.....Johnny Angel? I know you're there.... -
Then below that, in a masculine chicken scratch:
Yeah Minnie. I'm here. I'm here. I'm soooo here. Where are you? I can't see you. I can't. Why are you hiding? Why are you hiding from me? Why? Why are you hiding from me Minnie?
Then back in the big girly scrawl:
I'm not hiding... I'm in here with Mrs. Giggles. I think they'll help us Johnny Angel. I really do.... Won't you ask them? I just miss you heaps and tons my Johnny Angel....
"Mo? Mo?"
Mo looked at me. In a saccharine sweet little girly voice that I definitely didn't recognize, she said, "I'm sorry, but Mo can't come to the phone right now, so if you don't mind handsome, I really need to speak to my Johnny Angel now..."
"This isn't funny Mo. Quit fucking around."
"C'mon Johnny Angel. Give us a little sugar...."
I grabbed Mo. The pad and pen fell to the floor. Her pupils were sooooo big.
Mo grabbed my head and kissed my mouth; hard. Her mouth tasted worse than ass. I tried to push her off but then I felt...
Johnny Angel.
"I'm baaaack..."
"Oh, my Johnny Angel."
"So you missed me?"
"Only like my eyesight if I went blind Johnny Angel."
"Why'd you do it, Minnie?"
"Because nobody cheats on me Johnny Angel. If I can't have you nobody can!"
"You fucking poisoned me Minnie! Do you have any fucking idea how painful it was dying?"
"What? You think I let you die alone. I was right behind you Johnny Angel."
"Yeah? I suppose you drank rat poison too, huh?"
"Oh, well, no. I took a bottle of barbituates."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
"Well, there really weren't enough for two Johnny Angel and I wanted to make sure I got it right the first time...."
"Yer fucking crackers, bitch."
"Am not!"
"You fucking poisoned me!"
"I love you Johnny. Come kiss me!"
"Kiss you? Your fuckin' mouth smells worse than forty year old dead ass! Do you even have any idea how things have been for me? Do you even have the slightest fucking inkling? Pushing that damned fucking rock up that mountain over and over only to have it roll back down over me. Every. Fucking. Day. And. Every. Fucking. Night. Day in. Day out. Up the mountain. Down the mountain. Fucking aristocrats!"
"Oh my sweet Johnny Angel. But they said you could join me in five thousand years. It'll be over before you know it. And I promise you'll love it. Every day I get massages and pedicures and I can eat all the steak and lobster and chocolate souffle I want and never gain weight!"
"You fucking bitch. I'll kill you!"
"No! Johnny! Don't do-"
My fingers wrapped around Mo's throat. She tried to get loose. Johnny was pissed. Mo started to turn blue. I tried to stop but Johnny Angel had a hold on me too.
Finally, just as Mo's eyes began to roll back in her head she croaked out a single bon mot.
Asssss...
She said, "ass."
Johnny didn't get the joke. But tripping me was thinking of this.
The madman laughter began all over again even as I felt my fingers relax around Mo's neck. In my head I heard Johnny Angel bellow, "I know who I am! I know who I am!!!!"
Johnny Angel had flown the coop.
Mo rubbed her throat where Johnny Angel had been choking her. I handed her a glass of water. She drank.
"Well, that was weird," she said. "So, what now? Tic Tac Toe?"
"I don't feel so good, Mo...."
"Oh, I know what you need babes. Alls you need is a lil sugar..."
Mo came in close to plant a big wet one on my big ass lips.
"Don't! Don't Mo. Pl-"
It was too late. I felt Mo's lips press against mine. Her tongue pushed past my teeth.
My head cliff dived into shark infested waters. The floor rushed up over my head. The ceiling crashed beneath my feet.
The last thing I heard before I checked out of reality was a voice that wasn't my own rasping, "I'm baaaaack. Johnny Angel's baaaaack. Still miss me bitch?!?!?!"
Mo's eyes stared wide. Then I remembered no more.
When I woke up the next morning Mo's head hung at an odd angle.
There's only one thing I can think to do now. Do you think strychnine goes better with Sunny Delite or Tang? Or maybe Kool Aid?
See you in hell, Johnny Angel.
Originally posted on r/nosleep under the pen name mypumassmellfunky.
