Free B-Movie Reels by Alan Spencer Page A

Ned’s about the only one in my family who’ll talk about him. You know, I just finished school, and Ned called me out to show me the house since no one’s taking an active interest in the place. Everyone thinks it haunted.”
    He thought back to this morning and the shaving cream exploding everywhere. And then the projector randomly turning on and playing The Mallet Killer.  
    It’s just an old house , he thought. Time makes houses do strange things . So does being tired. Your memory goes to hell.
    He tried not to look too deeply into it since nothing bad had really happened. Haunted houses usually involved blood dripping from the walls or human shapes draped in sheets floating around and scaring the crap out of people.  
    “What is your degree in, Andy?”  
    “Film. Right now, I’m working on a job from my professor. He’s having me watch a series of forgotten horror films and write commentary about them for their DVD release. It’s big money nowadays. That means a job for me. I’ve done a few local commercials for public schools and libraries, nothing huge, though. Not like my girl, who left me to shoot a damn Sonicfast food commercial.”
    “That’s a bitch.” Walter said. “You should make a movie about your uncle. Maybe it would turn the house into a tourist attraction. I know James would’ve loved it. He liked the attention. He’d enjoy the idea of people visiting his death spot and being intrigued. He’d be like Elvis.”
    Andy considered the idea, but he’d step on a lot of toes. His family for one, and then thinking about Uncle James, would he be desecrating his memory, or would it be a successful homage? He wasn’t ready to make that decision. He’d talk to Ned about it later. The idea itself was marketable. Ghosts and paranormal activities, especially haunted houses, meant big bucks in any venue.  
    A beat-up truck pulled up to the gas pump. Walter peeked at the customer. “Oh, it’s Mary-Sue. The Jennings are trouble, boy. They’ll rob you blind if they can. Jimmy set up Mary-Sue to talk to me at the pump. She flirted with me, showed me some tit, and chatted me up somethin’ good while Jimmy was rummaging through my supplies. Dirty bastard stole at least a dozen tools. I can’t prove it, but it happened, and I know it for a fact.”
    He studied Mary-Sue outside. She wore sun-faded blue jeans and a white tank-top, the bra straps haphazardly hanging loose at her shoulders. Her hair was styled into a pony-tail, hastily executed. She looked exhausted and concerned. Her frown matched the sleepless fatigue etched into her features. Was she that upset that he turned her down last night? Guilt panged him. Should he go out and speak with her?  
    Indecision kept him seated.
    “I guess I have to turn on the pump for her,” Walter griped. “You won’t believe how many people try and steal gas these days. Everyone’s a thief, and not just the locals.”
    Andy hoped Mary-Sue didn’t see him. She hadn’t taken notice of his Fiesta parked outside. Walter approached the pump and turned a key to unlock the gas. After Mary-Sue filled up, she handed Walter the money. She refused to wait for the change and peeled out back onto the road. Why was she in such a hurry? Maybe she spotted him inside and wanted to get as far away as possible. He was embarrassed by the slightest recollection of the other night, and he could only imagine what it was like for her.  
    Walter soon returned, and Andy got up and chucked his trash into a receptacle. “Walter, it was good seeing you again. Thanks for sharing what no one else in my family had the guts to say.”
    “You look out for Ned, okay. He’s retired, but he sure isn’t acting like he can relax. Help him get rid of that damn house.”
    “Sure thing,” he said as he made his exit. “The place is as good as sold.”
     
    His cell phone rang on the car ride back home. Andy picked it up as he passed a slaughterhouse with many rows of cattle huddled