Everything Sucks #5 Tea & Victory Read online



  Everything Sucks

  Short Story #5

  Tea And Victory

  Written by R. Smith

  Edited by Shawn M. Greenleaf

  Cover & Design by Savage1Studio

  Copyright © 2013 R. Smith

  All rights reserved

  Books and Series by R. Smith

  Pop Culture Sucks, Manifesto Of A Vampire

  Everything Sucks Series

  Knights Of Albion (coming soon!)

  Tea And Victory

  First, he was terrified. When the terror wore off, annoyance filled the vacancy. From pitiful life to no life at all. Wonderful. But, a few days later he realized being turned into a sentient . . . dead . . . thing was, without a doubt, the most fortunate event of his life.

  It meant he could finally realize his darkest (and most loved) dream. He could make them suffer, like they so readily deserved. He set out towards his childhood home, determined neither of them would be spared regardless of tears or apologies. He would see it through to a slow, painful end.

  He arrived at their doorstep in less than an hour; the ability to move so swiftly still new and thrilling. He pounded on the door with no regard for the late hour. His father answered the door, his face going sour like year old milk upon seeing his son.

  "Hello Papa," said Victor. "Is Mama home? I need to speak to the both of you."

  "We had an agreement, Victor," his Papa said wearily as he stepped aside with obvious reluctance.

  Victor crossed the threshold slowly, half expecting his father to change his mind and slam the door in his face.

  "You're an embarrassment, we'll come to you if the need is urgent." His father looked him over with a heavy sigh, "At least you had the good grace to come while the neighbors are asleep."

  Only a few days earlier, such naked recriminations would have dug deeply into him and clung hard, like a parasite.

  Though his Papa's cruelty was as reliable as sunrise, Victor had never learned to build armor strong enough to survive the constant attack. He had withered away every time, defeated, no matter how well prepared. But now those scornful words missed their mark. In fact, it was all he could do not to roll his eyes.

  He replied meekly, playing the part, "Of course Papa."

  The men made their way to the small but tidy living room, the weak amber glow of a single lamp working to illuminate the space.

  His mother sat in her massive, deep blue armchair, like the poor man's Queen she tried to be. She looked no happier to see him than his father had.

  Victor dug deep, trying to find that desperate urge to make them proud, despite everything. It was beautifully, gloriously gone.

  Unaware of Victor's transformation, his Papa continued the tirade, puffing up more with every word. "If you're here to ask for 'start up money' again, or blame your chronic failure on us, you can save your breath."

  Victor pretended to shrink under the angry lecture; played the son they both expected. He was waiting for the perfect moment. It had to be perfect.

  "First you fail as a student, then you fail as a laborer, and now you can't even handle operating a tiny cafe! Even soup and sandwiches are apparently beyond your ability, Victor, and I won't hear you blame us for it!"

  He continued to wait. It wasn't easy, but he would not let himself spoil his own revenge.

  His mother shook her head. "I have to disagree, Donald. We must have done something wrong. I mean, just look at him. Both of them," she sighed as if weighted down by a great burden. "Madeline desperate to be a man, and our son a sorry excuse for one."

  For possibly the first time in his life, Victor glared at his mother. "She doesn't want to be a man, mother, she just refuses to kneel at our feet--not mine, not Papa's, not any man's." He grinned derisively. "It's not the 1800s anymore, Mama, the century turned some years ago. So sorry you can't keep up." He imagined his face radiating satisfaction as he continued. "Or maybe you're just too feeble minded to understand the concept of real ambition."

  His father gripped the edge of his wife's regal perch, white-knuckled, the unspoken threat of violence coursing through his posture. "You will not speak to your mother this way in her own home! Get out!"

  The perfect moment. Victor was proud of himself for waiting.

  Rather than flee under a cloud of shame, as his parents no doubt expected, Victor slowly crossed the room, laying their sins bare as he went. "The two of you never offered us anything but insult and pain--neither of which we earned. I'll never know how Madeline found the strength to thrive the way she has; but we can hardly spend time together without becoming bogged down in miserable childhood memories!" He stepped directly into his father's space, their feet practically touching. "And for that, you absolutely do deserve the blame!" He finally allowed himself to speak with genuine menace. "Blame and brutal punishment. Which brings us to the reason for this visit."

  His father merely scoffed, dismissing the threat without hesitation; but Victor could have sworn he saw real, genuine fear flicker across his mother's face.

  Victor had run eagerly to their doorstep, visions of drawn-out torture dancing in his head like Christmas sugarplums. But suddenly, just as he prepared to reveal his new features, the monster hiding beneath his face, all he wanted was be rid of them and to let Madeline know she was free. Forever free of their endless malice. Even though she no longer felt like a sister, their shared miserable history would always bind them together.

  So it was quick. He lunged for his Papa first, then Mama. He managed to stick to the plan; insofar as draining them both to nothing even though it was a bit much for his stomach to handle. He was resolved to consume them both entirely, as they had consumed his childhood, his courage, and his pride; and he achieved that goal. He left them in a heap, looking like wax-faced, broken dolls, at the foot of his Mama's empty throne.

  Madeline's apartment was his next stop. He apologized for the obscene hour as she let him in, he assumed more out of curiosity than as sense of sibling love. She made them a pot of tea and they sat at her small kitchen table as it steeped on the counter only an arm's length away. Madeline couldn't afford much on a shop girl's pay, but she would not stoop to a frantic husband-hunt just to snare his income. It was love that would get her down the aisle, or nothing at all.

  While they waited on the tea, she sprinkled tobacco into two papers and rolled them with expert fingers, handing one to him.

  "So what's your big news, Victor?"

  He wracked his brain for the perfect way to tell her, and came up empty.

  She waited patiently as he floundered for words.

  He finally stumbled onto something close enough to appropriate. "I can't tell you exactly what I did, Madeline. I figure it'll be in the papers soon. But I got justice for both of us. Mama and Papa will never bother us again."

  She twirled the lit cigarette between her fingers, torn between concern and joy. "How'd you manage that?"

  "Your first guess is likely the right one." he replied.

  Madeline sighed and took a long drag. Between the physical terror and never ending debasement, there was nothing to grieve. A sudden warmth burst through her, head to toe. Gratitude. She knew it wasn't the correct reaction, the moral response one should have, but she couldn't help it. Victor's implied confession was wonderful to hear, and she couldn't muster a single ounce of sympathy for her parents.

  Victor continued, "Papa can't bully us, and you'll never hear Mama's 'men only marry women who need them' speech. Ever again."

  "Whatever you did to 'em is okay by me, big brother. I'll keep my mouth shut if the cops come a' knocking," she assured with a sleepy smile. "But you should leave town if they
start sniffing around you."

  Victor finished his tea and stood up. "I promise I'll look out for myself."

  Madeline walked him to the door. They hugged, said goodbye, and Victor went about learning to live as a predator rather than the prey he'd always been.

  Thanks to a nosy insomniac neighbor, he did end up needing to make a run for it. The sojourn didn't last long. St. Louis was a big city--not the biggest, or most violent, but every city sees its share of crime; so fresh new bloodbaths overtook the headlines, and police attention, soon enough. He slid back into town under a new name without much trouble, though he still spent much of his time traveling.

  He wrote to Madeline regularly, and even returned to attend her wedding (so much for Mama's theory), but in every other aspect Victor died the moment his sister closed and locked the door behind him, the sound of it like a book snapping shut. He walked away with the taste of blood, tea, and cigarettes still lingering in his mouth as Victor James faded away.

  Chapter closed.

  He changed his name to Jimmy Vic because it sounded like the name of a man who stood out in a crowd. He learned to fish, fly a twin engine, operate a moving picture camera, speak Portuguese; and that was just in the first few decades. Since he moved around a lot, he could usually feed on anyone he cared to, just leave the bodies where they fell. He was one hell of a successful a Vampire. Such a shame his parents weren't around to see it. They might've been proud.

  *********************************

  Books and Series by R. Smith

  Pop Culture Sucks, Manifesto Of A Vampire

  Everything Sucks Series

  Knights Of Albion

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