Sally Shops for a Halloween Feast © WTW, 2014
by William Whiting
Or should we say victim?
Sally blends. She looks just like any one of you out there reading this. No one would suspect to look at her, that Sally isn’t like other people. In fact she doesn’t even like other people unless they’re prepared to her specifications: “Pittsburgh rare.” She’s a man-eater in the literal sense that she eats men.
Yet Sally, stares with innuendo through her window with ennui — for she has nothing left on her meat hooks. You might go so far as to say her meat hooks are bare. Poor Sally.
For anyone who hasn’t met Sally, she’s more than a cannibal and a pyromaniac — she’s a professional whore working the Greyhound bus station. She doesn’t really have to do that; prostitution is merely a means to an end. Sally lives for the single-minded purpose of hunting down fresh man meat. She lives quite lavishly in the townhouse she inherited after her Great Aunt Joan had that tragic fall on the staircase.
A fortunate Sally also inherited Joan’s notable portfolio of pharmaceutical stocks, so let it be known that Sally has her fingers into the furthest reaches of corruption, mayhem and harm.
But enough about that…
…When Sally was a little girl, a well meaning adult told her she could grow-up to do whatever she wanted to do; and all that was necessary was for her to set her sights and remain focused. Because of that advise, Sally is now an example of what happens when vague instructions are issued to spoiled children. She never quite embraced the concept of self-control.
One day Sally placed an ad on Air B&B. Someone named Geoffrey telephoned in reply to her ad. Geoffrey said he would like to come over and inspect the accommodations at Sally’s earliest possible convenience. Sally hopes Geoffrey finds the room to be eternally peaceful.
Sally would never cotton to living with a boarder under her roof. She’s only interested in stocking her freezer before winter. And of course there’s her annual Halloween feast to be considered. No one else is invited (unless they’re already included in a recipe). But Sally could never live with another person, because the other individual would somehow fail to live. She’s the sort of person who fosters a failure to thrive in others, and briefly considered a career in hospice. But she could never get used to the idea of aged meat.
Sally was daydreaming about how old people remind her of beef jerky, when she thought she heard a noise outside. Was it a knock at the door?
Or was it the neighborhood children again?
Sally hated the neighborhood children — forever throwing eggs at her and wrongfully accusing her of being responsible for everyone’s missing cats. Cats, were the furthest thing from her mind. She was focused on dinner — and filling the basement meat-locker. But just in case, Sally placed some poisoned blow-darts in her pocket.
On her way down the stairs, Sally thought, “A bible salesman would be scrumptious right about now,” as her tummy growled. The sight of the man at the door nearly gave Sally pause. She’d seen him at the bus station trying not to let her catch him eying-up her wares. She recognized him as a traveling bible salesman.
She knew at first sight that the gentleman at the door was her new tenant Geoffrey, arriving promptly to inquire about the room. “He looks single,” Sally thought, “in fact he looks like a Mormon or a Jehovah’s Witness. They’re always so tender and delicious.” Sally loves introducing people to people, especially introducing religious people to Jesus. (She harbors a vaguely prejudicial attitude toward organized religion after being badly scalded by a conservative dousing of holy water.)
When Geoffrey arrived, she could tell by the way he was gazing at his own reflection and grooming his eyebrows, that he was very nervous about making a good impression. It’s a shame when people get nervous — it makes the meat less tender by releasing endorphins. Sally opened the door to allow Geoffrey to come in. He was immediately smitten by her obvious charms. She was a real looker alright — all curves and deep-set eyes. Why, she’s his dream girl from the bus station! Sally made him feel those naughty, familiar stirrings. It was enough to make him want to spank himself with a prayer book when he got a little time alone in the bathroom.
Lust is the Devil’s work, so Geoffrey took his mind off of Sally by thinking about cats.
Once inside, Sally beckoned Geoffrey to join her for a friendly cordial of “spiked” (ahem, she meant to say) “spiced” Madeira. She offered him some pâté, but Geoffrey told her he was a vegetarian. Sally smiled as he took his first sip of Madeira. Unbeknownst to him, he was all hers. The room was spinning, and Geoffrey was soon to be putty in her hands. She coaxed him up the stairs under the pretext of showing him his new bedroom. It would take a while for the paralyzing love potion to fully set-in. He would then be helpless, while fully aware — that was how she liked her men. Sally licked her chops and moistened her lips all to Geoffrey’s complete misinterpretation.
Sally is very aware of her nutritional needs. She likes to eat vegetarians because otherwise she’d never get her minimum daily requirement of vegetables. Besides, vegetarians contain fewer chemicals and less artificial preservatives. She prefers grain fed.
“There are so many stairs,” he thought while taking a stolen glimpse of Sally’s forbidden thighs. Geoffrey was starting to feel lightheaded, but he pressed on all the same, if only to follow the vision of beauty leading the way.
Sally entered the room well before Geoffrey arrived, and on the spur of the moment decided to play a spritely game of hide and seek.
No sooner had the befuddled Geoffrey entered the room, than Sally reached out from under the bed and grabbed him by the ankles and started snapping at his calves. Confused as he was, Geoffrey jumped back, only to witness Sally levitating up the walls before his very eyes. He reached into his jacket to see if he’d brought his pocket sized prayer book — and to his dismay, discovered that everything he’d brought with him was gone — no wallet no keys and somehow he’d lost his eye glasses.
That’s when Sally began to chant, “testicles, spectacles, wallet and keys, praise to the dark lord and fall to thy knees.”
Drawers were slamming open and closed as an eerie light filled the room. The chandelier was quaking like it was ready to fall. Recoiling from the horrifying sight of Sally slithering up the wall, Geoffrey fell backwards onto the bed, only to find her glaring down at him from the ceiling above.
Geoffrey knew instinctively that he must escape, but then again, she was so darn foxy–like the gals on the match book covers he drooled over.
Without warning, Geoffrey felt himself being lifted up into the air by way of some mystical force–then suddenly thrown against the far bedroom door. Unfortunately for Sally, she’d neglected to use the deadbolt. Geoffrey went sailing out into the hall, tumbling down three flights of stairs, stumbling and gasping every inch of the way as he rolled all the way down into the vestibule. He scrambled to open the door as the paralyzing potion further fogged his befuddled brain. “Tarnation…!!!” Sally said aloud, “There I go again overdoing it.” Sally could never resist her own dramatic flare. She flew down to the front door just in time to see a portly police officer trying to lift Geoffrey up off the ground.
“Officer, thank you so much for helping my poor drunken husband!” she called out. “Would you please be so kind as to help me get him into the house? — I can take over from there.” The officer, being a blue collar kinda guy, always had a soft spot and a hard-on for those classy high society dames like Sally. “Glad to help, you poor sainted lady,” the officer replied. Sally recoiled at the word “sainted” and then at the word “lady” but tried to remain expressionless. She bitter-sweetly thanked the officer and promised to mail off a check to the police after-school athletics fund (laced with anthrax) but she kept the second part to herself. Sally decided against keeping the cop. All those Crispy Cremes coursing through his veins could have a secondhand effect on her health.
Sally prefers lean meat.
And so it came to pass, that an unconscious young gentleman named Geoffrey came to be maniacally manacled to the first floor stair hall radiator.
To be continued…