Free Strange Brain Parts by Allan Hatt Page A

Some screaming. Monster sounds.
    The fire trucks take a long time coming out and setting up. No one likes the monsters, like I said. Ain't too fond of Doctor Frankenstein, neither. The castle is a huge fireball by the time the firemen get around to spraying water on it. You could tell they were only making sure the fire didn't spread anywhere else.
    The police started making arrests then. Me and a bunch of other guys get thrown in the back of a van for inciting a riot or some such bullshit.
    On the way to the station the cop in the back with us says, "Don't worry, boys. You'll all be back home in a few hours. We had to make a few arrests for the TV cameras. You won't even see the inside of a jail cell."
    True to his word we were all released. No charges. Each of us got a pat on the back and a little wink as we were led outside through a backdoor to avoid the TV cameras. Who would've thought cops were actually good people?
    Some of the other guys wanted to get someone to bootleg some beer for us and head out to the drinking hole us teenagers go to get pissed. I tell them to go on without me, and I'll meet up with them later.
    I still got shit to settle at home.
    * * *
    I get home. Relieved that the parents are away for the weekend at some retreat for married couples. "Primal Marriage" counseling or some shit. The best I could figure they run around the woods naked and scream a lot. Fuck while sitting on a stump, maybe. Don’t know and don’t care.
    I ain't supposed to be alone in the house with Susie on account of some stuff that happened a few years ago, but with the medication and all the parents think I'm doing better. They’re trying to do what they figure is the right thing and show me some parental trust.
    Susie's sitting in the kitchen. I look and see the basement door knocked off its hinges and lying on the kitchen floor. When she wants to Susie can lay the boots to damn near anything. Except me. She don't ever lay the boots to me because she knows I ain't afraid of hitting back.
    "I hope you're fucking happy," she says.
    "Ain't right being with a monster like that," I say.
    "You don't understand."
    "What's to understand? He's a fuckin' freak."
    "And you're so much better? Hunh, Stevie?
    "I'm a human. A man. That makes me better.”
    "You're a boy," she says, standing up. Her voice getting to me. It ain't all that angry and I can't figure out why. She should be yelling at me, but she ain't. "A stupid, fucked up little boy. And I know you'll never know what it's like to be a man. Not a real man. Not one that understands what it means to be decent."
    I ain't here for a debate. I tune out what she's saying. Something else I got to do and while her mouth's flapping I figure now's the time.
    My first punch hits her just above her solar plexus. Too high. She looks stunned. I go lower with my fists, working them into the breadbasket. Susie curls up in defense. I kick her legs out from under her. Great shot. Right behind the kneecaps. She crumples backwards onto her head.
    I start kicking her stomach. Hard shots. I'm making sure they nail her between the hips. Right where the womb might be. The best I can remember from sex education and family planning.
    I got to make sure she don't have a monster baby growing in her. If that monster got her pregnant from all that fooling around they must have been doing then she's damn sure going to miscarry now.
    There's a noise. Sounds like it might've come from the basement stairs. All I remember then is white scar stitches. Just a blur of them in close-up. And a gurgling roar.
    Lot of blurry motion, and the next thing I know I'm looking at my body. It ain't got no head, but it's standing. Spitting red everywhere. Through the legs of the kitchen table I see the goddamn monster that just punched my head clean off my shoulders kneeling by my sister.
    Just before I fade out for good I hear Susie say, "Get his head."
    * * *
    I've been in the dark a good long time.
    Never figured death would