Page 144 of Happy Hour

“Sway, that was a little harsh.” Emma punched my shoulder. “He’sjusta child.”

“A child my ass,” I may have been a tad on the rude side right then but I was in fact just as scared as that six-year old. “Did you forget what they did to your boots?”

Another loud crash came from just outside the spooky tree that strangely resembled the one from the movie.

Tomorrow I would be cutting that down. I never noticed how scary it was until now. Or maybe it was just the movie.

More banging followed along with dogs I didn’t know the neighborhood even had barking. Similar to some horror movie, the wind picked up and blew the back door open. I thought for sure that only happened in movies just before they were gutted.

What did we do?

All of us screamed at once and ran in opposite directions.

Thankfully, Emma ran the direction of the gun cabinet.

But did she grab one? No, that would be too easy. Instead, she ran right past it to the kitchen. I ran after her, well wobbled. I had two of satins spawn attached to my legs.

In my attempts, I smashed into Emma, knocking us all to the ground.

Glancing at the object she had a death grip on, I laughed. “A house full of guns and you grab afork?”

“I panicked, all right...” Her voice shuddered. “I panicked.”

“So you grab a fork? Why not a knife that was right beside it?”

Emma glared. “I panicked!”

“Clearly,”

Lucas was trembling in my arms just about the time Logan wrapped himself around Emma like a human scarf.

“Sway...w-w-what’s out t-t-there...?” Lucas asked.

It was at that moment that I actually started to feel a little bad for them. I mean, yes they are shit heads but they’re just as scared as we were, possibly more.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing—” I was cut off by yet another howl of wind and another loud crashing noise.

What the hell was out there?

Both boys clung tighter to us as we backed up against the wall in the kitchen behind the table. Somehow we felt safer with chairs in the way, creating a diversion, let’s just hope we didn’t die in this version.

What if it is Carol Anne?I thought to myself.

All my thoughts just went back to my theory of needing a man around. As old fashion as that sounded, I was a firm believer now. It was their job to protect and these 6-year olds with us were providingnoprotection. I didn’t have the heart to tell them, given their current state of terror, if they couldn’t “man up” at a time like this, there was no hope for them.

“Emma,” I whispered shakily, repulsed at how freaked out I’d become over a stupid movie. “Go see what’s out there.”

Emma did a ridiculous gasp-gulp thing that made me chuckle. “Me!” she asked pointing to herself with distress. “Why do I have to do it, why not you?”

“You have the fork.” I pointed out. “I clearly can’t protect myself as well. You on the other hand could fork ‘em.”

“That’s bullshit!”

Another loud crash came from the back of the house and someone stepped inside, the floor squeaking with each wet step they took.

Emma, driven by fear I assume, screamed like a little girl, held the fork up and ran for the perpetrator, all the while—stillscreaming.

There was squeaking from the water on the floor, screaming and more screaming. She crashed into the said perpetrator, knocking them both to the ground.

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