Black Friday Blowout
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“Black Friday Blowout”
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Thanksgiving is a special time.
Friends and family put aside their differences and come together to lie openly to one another through clenched teeth, masquerading as smiles.
The television flicks on.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
It is a joyous time.
Each member of the family regales the group with tales of their great adventures. They take the time to offer forgiveness and thanks and a mission of peace that only lasts through the first slice of apple pie or the third Scotch whisky, whichever comes first.
The clown-faced woman picks at the lo mein that spills from the side of the white, fold-up Chinese takeout. There are a few other plates and jars scattered out in front of her on the bed, the contents either half eaten or spilled.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Mothers and fathers confront daughters and sons politely about their lives and choices and through their paternal love, they gently chastise and berate. They offer thanks and love and understanding as long as there is gratitude, service, and obedience.
A piece drops on her thigh and she flicks it free before setting the container back down with a sigh.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
A beautiful time.
A wonderful time.
A magical time.
Unless, of course, you were Jaclyn Pierrot.
“I guess they were right.” She mutters. Jacky has stripped down from her dress and apron, leaving them in a crumpled mess on the floor beside her. She pulls the Bunny doll into her lap. ”Do you think I’m a bad cook?“
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Jaclyn Pierrot took a chance. A risk. A mighty task
She giggles, hefting the carcass into the air above her, now more stapled on parts than original base. “Yeah, it was mighty!”
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Now, you may not think feeding fifty six people would be hard, but she had lived most of her life alone and had only the experience of cooking for a small family.
”And tell them about the blender!“ she squeals in anger, twisting off the lid of a half-empty mason jar that is labeled Jacky’s Juice. The room fills with the acrid smell of gasoline.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
After burning up the blender, Jacky was left with no choice but to peel and chop and mash dozens upon dozens of potatoes by hand. After the first hour, she found that location was key and it was easier to do so in a wrestling ring.
“Ha! Goteem!” Jacky begins to drink from the jar, tilting her head back as she does.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Struggling with prep work and with one oven to spare, the task quickly got out of hand. Finally, the wild clown got furious and attempted to mash them with gunfire and a live grenade. As the turkey flesh began to char and all hope was lost, our hero retreated upstairs.
She watches on the television as an oven catches fire. Her golden eyes glaze over with tears. She changes the channel.
“Up next, do you secretly suspect that your husband may be cheating on you…with a robot?”
She sets the empty jar aside as her cheeks become flush.
“Prepare to meet Mr. Angry Eyes!”
The clown pushes herself up onto the pillows. She sighs, scooping up a pack of sugar donuts, shoveling two into her mouth. Jacky pushes them to either cheek like a chipmunk and tosses the bag aside. She washes them down with more ‘juice’, trying her best to distract herself from the disaster downstairs.
Click.
Jacky flips the channel and the sound of an explosion and screaming comes from the set. She scowls, scooping up a new jar. She drains it effortlessly.
Click.
Her eyes grow heavy and the remote dangles from her hands.
Click.
...Static...
Channel 13
The remote his the ground and the screen goes black. Bold, red lettering splashes across the screen.
THE DEMON CHEF IS A TRAINED PROFESSIONAL.
(SORT OF)
Try this at home
(seriously)
Fuck you.
(Really)
A devilish puppet, with large protruding horns walks out from the side of the screen. He has a metallic bowl tucked in the crook of his arm. There is what looks like a kitchen counter in front of him and fires rage behind.
“Hrl zngih mjd aeih naweghmjh njvgldnljh oep jlld he ihmgh mjo almb nbb fl zglir iepbi!”* he says with a laugh, pointing down at the bowl. From within, faceless beings warp and twist, their screams echoing throughout eternity. A large, demonic hand raises, his pointer finger pointing upwards.
“Rlj nh seali he iepbi, hrl flih iepbi mgl hrl iepbi ez hrl njjesljh, ie fl ipgl he vlh hrla lmgbo!”* the demon advises, before his head nods comically. He reaches for the switch in front of him, turning it on high. The flames grow and pulse around him and he bounces for a moment with glee.
“Ejsl oep rmwl oepg iepbi vmhrlgld, oep'bb mjh he seec hrla ej rnvr, zeg mbb lhlgjnho!”* tossing the contents over his shoulder, there is a sizzle of steam and a sickening scream. He tosses his head backwards in laughter. The demon chef looks around himself.
“Dej'h zegvlh he ihng!”*
His hands swat recklessly as they look for something on the counter, shoving items off as the move. The utensils bounce and clang and knock, knock, knock and just as he pulls it free, the clown sits upright. She is covered in thick sweat, but still has a smile plastered across her face.
“That’s it!”
“Jacky?” Another knock. She rolls free of the bed and rushes towards the door, flinging it open. A heavy rush of gasoline hits Tempest right in the back of his throat.
”I figured it out!“
The masked man looks confused, “Figured what out?”
“Where I went wrong!”
He stands silently, the reverberations of the grenades going off on the yard still fresh in his mind.
”I gotta go to the store!“
She plants a kiss on his mouth before he can respond, taking the moment to enjoy his warmth before tearing away. Her hand scoops a black hoodie off its hook as she rushes out the door. Her feet trample down the stairs and then he can hear the door to the Underlook open and slam shut.
His eyes turn to the bunny corpse doll.
“Does she know it’s almost Black Friday?”
The rabbit sits perfectly still, it’s button eyes staring lifelessly into the world. A maggot drops from one of the holes and onto the bed.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Would that stop her?
Tempest considers this and nods. He sits down next to the rabbit, scooping up the half-eaten bag of donuts.
“What are we watching?”
In some forgotten dead-end turn deep within the Underlook, the passage ends at an unfathomable chasm. Far across the way, perhaps a dozen yards, perhaps several miles, a torchlit square indicates another opening.
The wallpaper, wainscoting, even the beams of the ceiling in that disconnected hallway match the one in which he’s standing, as if a crevice in reality had opened up mid-corridor and drawn them apart. To go from this abrupt opening in the darkness to that one, one would need to find a way to cross this chasm.
Montague has spent many hours over the last few weeks contemplating that far off square hanging in the air. How far is it? What might he find there? How does the torch get lit? It’s a mystery that deserves--no demands--to be solved. But how?
Tonight, he pulls a marble from his pocket as he drops his gaze into the inky blackness below him. Montague rolls the marble across the backs of his knuckles on his left hand, first one direction, then the other, before hurling it as hard as he can toward the other passageway. It sails away in a great arc that doesn’t carry it anywhere close to his target, before it plummets downward.
The Showman is ready to give the ice blue cat’s-eye up for lost when it suddenly stops in midair, hesitates, then begins to float toward him in the thin air.
No, not float. It’s rolling.
Transfixed, Monty watches as the marble crosses the distance from where its fall had been interrupted, and rolls past his feet into the hallway behind him.
Montague: So that’s the trick.
With a sly smile, he reaches into his pocket once more, drawing a purple scarf out. He wraps this around his eyes and, with a smirk of confidence, spreads his arms out to his sides and takes a step.
Incredibly, he doesn’t fall when he shifts his weight onto that foot. Emboldened by this experiment, he takes another step out over the nothingness. A third step takes him far enough away from the hallway he just left so that if his footing should suddenly give way, he has no hope of grasping the ledge.
Foot after foot, Montague takes his time. Though he has blindfolded himself, he carefully picks his way across the unseen bridge. It appears to arch upward a bit, but his footing remains sure.
When he reaches the halfway point, his foot comes down further than it should have. His arms pinwheel for a heart-stopping moment as he fights to regain his balance.
Finally back in place, Montague takes a relieved breath and pauses. He turns back over his shoulder, as if looking through the blindfold and deciding whether to turn back. Finally, he makes a decision and faces forward once more. From a crouch, he leaps out over the chasm, and lands on something solid!
Not stopping there, Montague continues to bound across whatever invisible platforms haven’t failed him so far. An exhilarated smile transforms into triumph as he nears the other hallway. Two jumps left before he’s there, he lands on the final hidden platform--and it falls from under him!
Monty drops below the level of the other entrance to his certain death…
...except Jacky reaches out and grabs him by the wrist!
Crouched down, she grips his forearm with both hands and leans way back. Monty drags himself up with her help, and they collapse on the floor of the other side, breathing heavily.
Montague: Wait… how did you get over here??
She shrugs over to him, pushing herself up on one arm. The Cheshire smile spreads across her face.
Jacky: Wanna go shopping?
He looks back over to the pit, debating for a moment which fate was worse before nodding his head grimly.
The chaos of Christmas comes earlier and earlier each year and the big box stores, in a desperate attempt to stay relevant in the digital era, drop their prices lower and lower. Fortunately for these stores, and unfortunately for our heroes, the luxuries of shopping convenience were still years away from the area and a small army of citizens gathered around the front of the Wal-Mart. A horn blasts and a black Cadillac Escalade comes tearing into the lot, speakers blasting an older Ludacris song.
A path is quickly made as the crowd senses the vehicle, and more specifically, the Maniac hanging out of the window, screaming to, ‘Get the fuck out of the way!’ has no plans to slow down. It skids to a halt in front of the entrance. Just as Jacky’s door opens, a much taller woman in a windbreaker approaches her.
“What are you some sort of…” she begins angrily, stopping as soon as she sees the pig-tailed woman’s face. “...clown?”
Montague barely gets around the front of the car when a group begins to join the woman in her protest. As she steps closer, the .44 magnum raises into the air firing twice. The crowd screams and the magician races back to the passenger seat. Jacky aims the gun towards the fleeing woman’s back, but a large hand reaches through the door, jerking her back in.
“Drive!” he says and Jacky turns towards him, confused.
”But it’s some sort of riot!“ She shouts gleefully, pistol still in hand. A bottle is thrown and glass shatters off the back windshield. The crowd begins to close in.
“I told you, it’s Black Friday!” he tries to explain, as sirens begin to wail in the distance. She smiles even wider, pulling the hammer back on the gun.
“That will be the perfect name for today!” Jaclyn vows. Her hand reaches for the door. Fists begin to pound at the sides of the car. Montague reaches over the console and shoves his arm down between her legs and onto the gas.
As the car tears from the parking lot, a man barely stops himself from being hit. His shopping cart, not quite as fortunate, explodes as the vehicle’s plow barrels through it, and the groceries within rain down on the parking lot like the spoils of a pinata. Jacky’s hands clutch the wheel. The larger SUV dangerously pulls itself onto two tires as it turns into traffic.
Some time later, and many, many miles away, the same vehicle pulls into a Target parking lot, this time much more slowly. It comes to a peaceful stop between two lines, these made of chalk and not bodies, and the doors open once more. Jaclyn Pierrot bounces out of the passenger seat, crossing her arms across her chest in a huff.
“I don’t know why all these people are out right now!” she complains as Montague pulls his hat onto his head, straightening out his layers of black clothing.
“I’ve explained this to you,” he turns to her. “You’ve seriously never heard of this?”
“No but it sounds delightful,” she admits as she practically skips past him. He runs a step to catch up as she heads straight towards the gathered crowd. The closer they get, the more the tiny woman has to hop and bounce to try to see over the masses. She stops leaping and reaches for her waistband, only for Montague to intercept.
“Not the best idea.”
She whips around, hands on her hips. “Well what are we going to do? We’ll never get through this door.”
Montague surveys the landscape. It would be hard getting to the front taking the direct route, but...nobody said anything about misdirection. He points towards a man who has two reusable bags in his hands.
“Hey this guy’s returning two PS5’s!” he shouts. Like a horde of zombies, the mass turns and begins to shift his way, just enough for the two to shove their way through before the wave of flesh crashes back into place.
“See! I knew I brought you for a reason!” she smirks, walking backwards in front of him.
“Is that reason because Tempest hates crowds?” Jacky rolls her eyes and spins around, narrowly missing running into a man in a faded yellow flannel. She begins to check the signage as she walks.
“What are we looking for?” he asks after a moment.
“It’s a thing,” she describes it abstractly with her hands, before turning down one of the aisles. Montague attempts to follow but a cart lazily wafts by him, followed by a woman with the most distinctive mold odor coming from her hair. He turns his head for only a moment when he hears the clown's voice.
“You coming?”
Already two aisle ahead, she stands waiting as he strolls behind her. He picks up a box.
"Is it this set of digital clocks?"
Without turning, she shakes her head. “No.”
She stops in the kitchen section, walking slowly through, her eyes darting between the shelves. Montague grabs another item from the shelf.
"Is it one of these square 20 inch cast iron pots?" he offers.
Her hair flips as she spins towards him, looking it over.
"Ugh, no" she says. He holds a small gun up.
"Is this egg timer shaped like a glock?"
"No…” her eyes squint and she looks over at it before grinning, “Actually, get that. But no"
“So what does it look like?”
Jacky holds her hands about 8 inches apart. “It’s like this long and this wide.”
She spreads her fingers around two inches apart. Montague blinks.
“Are you going to diddle the food?” he asks bluntly. An elderly couple passing by stops and stares over at her causing her to open-mouth laugh in their direction until they nervously walk away. Just as they walk out of sight, something causes her to pause.
Jacky shrieks with glee and runs towards him. Instinctively, Montague covers up, but the clown rushes past him towards a shelf. Just as her hand takes hold of the wooden handle, another one grasps it just above hers.
Her golden eyes narrow.
A camera cuts on in the chaos of Target. The crowd, already enthralled with the frenzy and fury of the sale begins to devolve into the depths of depravity. Each aisle has some squabble or scrap going on over any variety of objects, from toasters to tanning oil. It pans across where Jacky struggles with the larger woman for a wooden stick. She notices the camera out of the corner of her eye, smiling amidst the madness.
“Okay stop,” shocked, the woman ceases her struggle, “So this is where I do my thing right?”
“Wait, what’s going on?” the woman starts before the large .44 magnum is aimed at her face. She closes her mouth and releases the item.
”I giggle and laugh and say something ominous and then a punchline and then...” the camera shakes and pans over to Jacky as Montague takes it from the would-be thief's hand.
bang.
The gun fires.
”But let’s just skip to the ending shall we?”
A group flees past the frame where Jacky stands still, smoking barrel still clutched in her hand. She passes the instrument past the camera. Just as she said, it has a wooden handle about eight inches long with a wide metal array on one end.
“After all, there’s really no point to all this right? Everything I say and everything I do falls upon closed eyes and covered ears and no matter who she was and what she did, the only thing you will ever see is this.”
She aims the barrel at her own head.
”My face.” She smiles brightly, “The clown.”
Jacky begins to dance as more customers shove and push their way past.
“Isn’t that what you wanted to see from me? A clown? Well ha-ha-HA, I hope you’re laughing now.“ She forces the sides of her lips up with her pinkies. Pulling harder, her eyes begin to water before she lets go. “I’ll play the part. Sure: I’ll be the berserker, the bad guy.”
She flips her lip up like a young Elvis Presley.
“The Maniac.” She stops and then smiles genuinely.
“I’ll take the role and show you how it’s done,” she waves the fun at the camera. Only the fun has a g and is nearly 9 inches of cold steel. “You remember that, right Kenneth? Closing night? And you remember me, of course. Jacky P: Baltimore’s Most Wanted. Call me Cujo cause I went all bang no whimper, which is more than I can say for you yet here you are, still claiming you are a god.“
Jaclyn rolls her eyes.
“You don’t want to talk about that anymore though, right? The past is the past, we’re looking to the future so now, here in the future, Kenneth what kind of god are you exactly? A god of mercy? A god of fear? Or the god of infinite sorrow and regret? I’m asking: tell me, show me. What kind of god are you now?”
She shakes her head, pacing for a moment.
“I don’t get it, Kenneth, what do I have to do to summon the old Ken fucking Davidson. The one who was truly considered ‘Godly’, the one who held that title that I could never touch?” she shoots an exaggerated pout towards the camera, “Where is that man, that myth, that monster to come down and smite me, this oh so gruesome and cruel creature in the middle of that ring?”
Somewhere, a fire alarm is pulled and immediately, there is a downpour from the emergency sprinkler system.
“What do I have to do to summon that man? Do I need to go to the ring and shove the sad boy aside to sacrifice the GOAT at Horizons? Will then you show me you are a god to be reckoned with?” She stomps her foot on the ground like a child, “Show me! Show me something other than another tale of the man that missed: ‘The Letdown’ Ken Davidson.”
Jacky steps back as a man dragging a large screen television runs past.
“And Kenneth, buddy, do what you gotta do to get you there, paint your face, use a silly voice, hell, even come down to my level. After all, I’m the sperm that won.” The chaos intensifies around them as her golden eyes stare straight into the camera. “But you don’t want to talk about that right?”
“Now Ken, I too could say other things you don’t want to hear. I could stand here and talk about how the fading threads of the man you once were or instead of making more cheap sperm jokes, I could tell it like it is. I don’t want to talk about the man you were yesterday or even the man you were today, but the man you want to be tomorrow.” she drags a finger towards herself, beckoning, “Let me take you to your future, and I’m not talking about the one with Kyra and the kid, no, I’m talking about the man inside you that wants to, yearns to be. The man that wants to be resurrected - to become a God again.”
She laughs to herself.
“Well I got news for ya, bub: try as hard as you can to become that God you see yourself to be, and the closer you get to your goal, the more you will see that you really, really, deep in your heart, just wanna be me: Jacky P.”
Jacky spreads her arms wide in celebration of herself.
“You’ve heard it all and hell, I’ve said it all before so let’s cut with the tough talking, the jaw jacking, and the name calling and do what we do best: get in that ring and beat the hell out of each other. For old times sake.”
She cracks her knuckles.
“Now I'm sure you've already nursed the bruises I've left behind, but it's time to get a batch of your own. And I’m sure after we took your little group down two weeks ago you’re gonna be locked and locked, but whether it’s one between the eyes or one between the thighs, I’m gonna show you what it means to be a god, with all due respect. So call it a calamity, a cataclysm, or just your career, Monday Night, I’m gonna huff and then puff and then I’m gonna beat this motherfucker down.”
She slips her pistol back into her waistband and a moment later a cop rushes by, chasing after a group that has begun to loot.
“Say what you’re gonna say, call me a clown, a crazy, a juggalo, a fake, a phoney. Closed eyes,” she closes her eyes and then places her hands over her ears, “and covered ears - only one thing left to do, Ken.”
Her wild eyes shoot back open, staring violently into the frame.
“Come shut my mouth.”
More shouting and panic and the camera gets swept free from the Magicians hands, landing with a crash and a return to static.
The door to the oven opens and a pair of oven mitts that say ‘Kiss the Clown’ reach inside. Jacky takes hold of either side of the pan and pulls the large turkey free. She sets it on one of the large buffet tables before looking over the spread. Candied yams with marshmallows on top, dozens upon dozens of deviled eggs, mounds and mounds of creamy mashed potatoes, collard greens, hams and turkeys, and plates and plates of freshly baked pies. A single tear forms in the corner of her eye.
“Jacky?”
She turns towards Tempest, wiping away her eyes as she smiles nervously. The Creeps have all gathered once again, only a day later, to attempt to once again celebrate the holiday.
It was ready.
She looks over their faces, biting her lip before she nods. Nobody moves and she can feel her heart stop in her throat. Each one found a different place to focus on as the tension grew, nobody wanting to be the first victim of a potential food poisoning. Suddenly, the patio door swings open and all heads turn to see Morgan Freeman step out.
“Jacky!” he shouts, doing a small hopping dance as he makes his way towards the buffet. She smiles weakly over at him as he pulls a plate into his hand and begins moving through the line.
Her smile begins to brighten and Daedalus watches as her smile brightens. He stands up next and walks to the buffet right behind the actor. Creeps of all kinds begin to follow suit.
“Mr. Freeman,” Daedalus says, leaning in towards the actor, “I think, in the spirit of the seasons, maybe...you are free to go. After you eat, of course...”
Morgan stops scooping the potatoes onto his plate and turns towards the small, clown-faced woman.
“You didn’t tell him?” He asks and Jacky shakes her head. He turns back towards Daedalus, the sly grin playing at the corner of his cheeks. “Jacky let me go weeks ago.”
Daedalus looks from the clown and then back to the actor, confusion playing across his face. Kosner plops one of the hams onto his plate and walks back towards the table as a line begins to form on either side of the buffet.
“So, why are you still around?”
“Are you kidding me?” he asks, his head nodding down to the plate in his hands, “Have you tried this girl’s cooking?** MmmmMmmm.”
Morgan grabs a fork off the table and continues his dance walk back towards the farm and away from the crowd. Jacky turns and shouts after him, tossing him an exaggerated thumbs up. “Thank you, Morgan Freeman!”
He returns the gesture. Just as he reaches the door, he turns back to the group.
“Don’t forget to try her apple pie! It’s real sweet!” He winks over to the group and then the door clicks shut behind him. The crowd’s eyes turn to Tempest who in turn turns towards Jacky. Her honking laughter billows forth.
“What can I say?” she asks, shrugging her shoulders. Tempest arms cross over his chest and Jacky turns towards you.
“I be-de-be-de-be-” she stammers, tossing another wink and a thumbs up in your direction. “That’s all folk’s!”***
Fade to Black..
OOC: Thank you to everyone here who spends the time to read through each and every one of these. I appreciate all your time. I am thankful to the staff that goes out of their way to set these events up and for the ever amazing handler of Johnny Hitmaker for his continued drive for the betterment of the community. Special thank you to my two writing partners and muses, the King Spider himself and the Magician. I am thankful for your infinite patience with my never ending bullshit and for listening to me rant and rave about my mess of a life. Happy holidays to everyone!
*From the Demonic Language Generator
Hrl zngih mjd aeih naweghmjh njvgldnljh oep jlld he ihmgh mjo almb nbb fl zglir iepbi! = “The first and most important ingredient you need to start any meal will be fresh souls!”
Rlj nh seali he iepbi, hrl flih iepbi mgl hrl iepbi ez hrl njjesljh, ie fl ipgl he vlh hrla lmgbo! = “When it comes to souls, the best souls are the souls of the innocent, so be sure to get them early!”
Ejsl oep rmwl oepg iepbi vmhrlgld, oep'bb mjh he seec hrla ej rnvr, zeg mbb lhlgjnho! = “Once you have your souls gathered, you'll want to cook them on high, for all eternity!”
Dej'h zegvlh he ihng! = “Don’t Forget to Stir!”
**It’s true! Morgan Freeman has always been seen with a plate of food in his hand and a smile on his face!
***Jacky has never nor will ever cheat on Tempest. She’s loyal, don’t worry my mini-maniacs!
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