Page 16 of A Very No Strings Halloween
“Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the movie!” I’m still yelling like I’m obsessed with Donnathe virgin. It’s not much of a stretch—the concept has me pretty worked up.
She rolls her eyes, and I can’t tell if she’s mad or amused by me. “Oh my God!”
“So do you want me to be all sweet now? Like how he was in the beginning?”
“No, this is hot! Keep going!”
“Damn right I’m gonna keep goin’!” I rip my shirt off over my head and reveal that I’ve writtenDonna4Evaon my abs in Sharpie. Her eyes go wide in a very satisfying way. “It’s me, Mahk Wahlberg, let me in the house! And say hi to your mothah for me, okay?” I do a pretty decent Wahlberg, even though I’m a way better dancer than that guy is and I would be way more famous than him if I gave a shit about any of that crap.
“Leave me alone!” Donna cries out, impressively quivering.
“I can’t. I’m obsessed with youse. I can’t stop thinking about youse. Open the door!”
I hear her unlock the dead bolt. “Just don’t break down the door,” she wails over-dramatically, clearly wanting me to “break down the door.”
I kick the door in. She gasps, one hand covering her mouth, the other hand dramatically clutching her ample bosom. She acts like a cornered animal, whimpers, turns, and runs up the stairs. I chase after her. I could overtake her, but I really enjoy watching her assshift back and forth in those sweatpants as her legs pump their way up the steps.
I grab at her ass like I’m trying to stop her, but really I’m just grabbing at her glorious bottom. “You’re mine, Donna! Mine!”
“Her name’s Nicole!” she pants. “Yours is David!”
“Whatevah! That ass is mine, Nicole!”
She squeals, and just as she’s about to burst through what I imagine is the bedroom door, she comes to a sudden stop. I stop in my tracks right behind her. I turn her around, thinking that she’s making some interesting acting choices, when I recognize actual fear on her pretty face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, no longer in character.
She shakes her head and steps aside, genuinely trembling. “You go in first. Okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” I say, a little confused. Is this a trap or something? Maybe her angry protective dad’s in there waiting for me.
Donna’s pressed up against my back, holding on to my bare shoulders.
I open the closed door, peering inside before stepping through the doorway. It is indeed a bedroom. Empty, so far as I can tell. Dusty and clearly not lived in for a long time, but it’s comfortable. There’s a four-poster bed and some tables and ornate lamps. A chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling.
It doesn’tlookstrange. But it feels strange. The airis oddly heavy and stale. No, not stale. Like all the sound has been sucked out of it. That surreal, heavy thickness is pierced by scratching from behind another door in the room. My attention snaps to it. Just a normal, brown wooden door.
“Is that door the closet?” I ask Donna, my voice is not echoing like it should in a mostly empty room like this. Instead, all sound kind of drops and thuds into the walls and hardwood floor. I turn and discover that she didn’t follow me into the room. She’s standing at the threshold, holding her hands tightly in front of her chest.
“I think so,” she says meekly.
“Whose house is this?” I finally ask.
“Mm-mmmine?”
“Donna, what’s wrong?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, hugging herself.
I hear that scratching sound again and look to the door again.
Fuck this.
I stalk toward that door like I haveDoor4Evawritten on my abs. I’m not afraid. IamFear. Mark Fear. Or David Fear, or whatever the fuck Wahlberg’s name was in the movie.
I fling the door open. It’s so creaky, it practically screams.
I just see darkness inthere. Emptiness. It’s somehow even creepier than seeing a monster.
