Free American Monsters by Sezin Koehler Page A

to get to the party a bit faster. Plus it's a really cool truck, they must be good people. They drive around for a few minutes, decide they are lost and pull into an AMPM parking lot. The truck follows and parks next to them. Habanilla steps out of her truck and goes around to their driver’s window.
    Habanilla, putting her finger to the driver’s temple:
    Give me your wallets or I’m going to kill you.
    The driver looks confused. Kill him with what? She doesn’t have a weapon. Habanilla places her hand against the side of his head. Her skin exudes a fiery hot spice, habanero-esque: the hottest and most potent pepper in the world. His skin begins smoking and he slumps over onto the front passenger seat.
    Habanilla:
    Give me your wallets. NOW. Or the rest of you bitches are gonna get it.
    She is handed three wallets. She hears the girls begin screaming as she walks away. She gets into her truck and drives off. As she drives she finds a ticket for a rave. It is very close by, actually: the street she was just on earlier. She decides to go. Those three had almost $300 between them, for the party probably. It’s always the same. Whenever there is a party in the ghetto, the rich white kids come down and flaunt their green. You can tell them by their stupid fuzzy clothes and big baggy pants. Tonight is Halloween, so they are dressed even worse.
    Habanilla, voice over:
    What the fuck is wrong with white people?
    Habanilla has robbed many people going to or coming from raves, but she has never actually been to one. She could never afford the hefty thirty or so dollars for a ticket. The money she stole always went towards crystal meth and every so often food, if she remembered.
    Habanilla, voice over:
    Not a bad idea. Rich kids fucked up at a party... So much money. So much meth.
    She arrives at Hollywood Boulevard and gets into the car queue. She takes out a cigarette and lights it with her fingertip.



9:40 P.M.
    The camera drifts from Habanilla’s window and floats again, on the smog, towards The Motel Chain Mansion. The line of cars has been moving faster. It’s not so far now. The camera passes over an Alfa Romeo holding three women. The camera does a double take and then films through the windshield.
    Console, Trip, and Skreem are in the car.
    Trip:
    I feel really weird, guys. Like my body wants to crawl out of my skin or something. So uncomfortable.
    Console:
    Party withdrawals? How long has it been for you? A week?
    Trip:
    Shut up. I’m serious.
    Console:
    So am I.
    Console, deciding to overlook her recent crowd phobia to venture out for the night, begins drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. They are approaching the Hollywood Hills, and the line of cars begins moving slightly upwards. In the distance, they can see The Motel Chain Mansion’s gate, an imposing piece of wrought iron. The cars stop and go as attendants at the gate check tickets. Parking is $10.00. As they get closer to the gate, Console sees a glowing figure by the side of the road. It looks like one of the aliens from cocoon, glowing a luminous blue and floating slightly off the ground.
    Console:
    What is she doing by the road?
    Skreem:
    Who?
    Console:
    That girl over there, she’s glowing by the road.
    Skreem:
    Are you high right now? Jesus, I can’t believe you would put everyone’s life in danger like that, driving while stoned, I mean —
    Console:
    No, I swear to God. I am not high. There is a girl standing by the road right there. Hey! You! Hey!
    Gaze, the recently violently deceased, hears the calls but assumes no one can see her so ignores them. She feels him around here. He’s close, so close. The murderer. Where is his car? Console calls out a few more times until finally Gaze accidentally looks over. The woman is looking right at her. What? She can see her? Gaze walks over to the car, curiously.
    Console:
    Who are you?
    Gaze:
    How can you see me?
    Console:
    Mine first.
    Trip opens the backseat door even though she sees nobody there,