horror fan, along more than a few unexpected paths. Hope you enjoy the journey. Lord knows you’re in for an unconventional ride.
* * *
HORROR:
THE EXHIBITION
Scott and Penny Beach stood in line for a long time before they were admitted into the exhibition. And while they waited, they couldn’t help wondering if the show would be worth the bother. Penny didn’t think so. She didn’t think anything was worth a wait of longer than fifteen minutes. She suggested to Scott––not once, but several times––to forfeit their spot in line, toss the two hundred dollar tickets into the trash, and head to the nearest bar for cocktails, her treat. Each time she suggested this, Scott only smiled.
Normally he would have gone for it; Scott hated waiting in line as much as she did, but he didn’t want to miss the exhibition or throw away money needlessly. It wasn’t in his nature.
The exhibition was called The Horror Show, and Scott was a horror enthusiast. He had books, DVDs, posters, video games, and autographs. To say he was excited would be an understatement; he had never seen a horror exhibition before.
The front door opened, the line inched ahead two spots and Penny dragged a finger through her hair, saying, “I forgot to ask… what are the reviews like? They any good? Is it gross… is it creepy?”
“There are no reviews,” Scott said with a smug expression materializing on his face.
“Is this opening night?”
“Not really.”
“Okay Scott, I’ll bite. Why are there no reviews?”
Scott nodded and grinned. “This is a one night only event.”
“You never told me that.”
“I thought I had.”
“No. You said it was scary, but you didn’t tell me that.”
Noise from a streetcar disrupted their conversation. The couple watched it move along the avenue. Scott’s eyes fell upon a three-story building that was shamefully vandalized. Two men stood near the building’s front door. One man––a tall fellow with thick eyebrows––kicked a dead pigeon with an oversized boot as the other man coughed and mumbled. Both were dressed the same: in tattered, unstylish clothing. Shaggy beards and scruffy hair seemed to be the look of the day.
“By the way,” Scott said, “thanks for coming.”
Penny shrugged. “No problem.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t the greatest neighborhood in the world. I’m sure you’re not used to it, and I know you don’t like this type of thing.”
“That’s not true. I like art shows quite a bit. I just don’t like those stupid movies you’re always watching. Most of them are terrible.”
“It’s hard to argue, but I still love them.”
“Yeah, I know. But… they’re so fake, Scott. They’re poorly written and the direction is awful.” Penny stopped herself from saying more, which she could easily do. She liked good movies. Scott liked shit. His fascination with that type of trash made her doubt his intelligence. Were all men enthralled in such foolish rubbish?
She looked to her shoes––her sixteen-hundred-dollar peach gala shoes––the ones she wore to her sister’s wedding thirteen months earlier and hadn’t put on since. Without meaning to, she let out a sigh, holding her Prada handbag in her arms like a baby.
Scott knew what she was thinking: she was bored and wanted to go home. “You know, Penny,” he said. “You’re really beautiful tonight. You look extra gorgeous, like a princess.”
Penny’s eyes lit up like little suns. “Really?”
“Oh yes. You look as lovely today as the day I married you.”
The suns eclipsed. “That was only two years ago, jerk.”
Scott laughed. “I know, and you still look good!”
Penny punched Scott playfully and kissed him on the mouth. Scott ran his hand down the back of Penny’s dress and gave her rump a little squeeze. As Penny pushed him away, the front door opened. Two people stepped inside the exhibition and the door began to close.
Before it did, Penny stepped free of the line and said, “Mister doorman?”
The man at the door hesitated. “Yes?”
“Can’t you let more than two people in at a time? We’ve been waiting for an hour!” Penny flashed her dimples and tilted her head. A curl of hair swooped across her thin eyebrows, bouncing up and down.
The man at the door smiled. Long teeth sat deep within his mouth. He had cheekbones like elbows, and when he spoke there was a rumble in the back of his throat that sounded like someone digging gravel with a shovel. “I’m sorry Miss… two at a time, that’s the way we do. It makes for a better show.”
Penny’s eyebrows lowered. “Oh.”
“And for your information,” the man said, “I’m not