The Bloody Munchies

            by James Nolting

 

A bell jingled and cold air rushed into the store. Three teenage boys stepped over the threshold, greeted by a soothing warm air and bright, welcoming light. It was late, almost ten-thirty, but for some reason, the boys were hungry. Without a glance at the man of Middle Eastern descent behind the counter, the trio split up to explore what great treasures 7-Eleven had to offer.

            The tallest boy, thin but muscular, approached the Slurpee machine and examined the flavors. He squinted at his distorted reflection in the metal surface, and a face plagued by acne stared back through bloodshot eyes and grinned stupidly.

            "Dude, a Slurpee sounds hella good right now!" his deep voice boomed across the silent convenient store, causing even the cashier to tear his piercing gaze from the smallest boy patrolling the candy aisle.

            The scrawny kid immediately seized this opportunity. A Milky Way, two Reeses peanut butter cups, a bag of Twizzlers, and four packs of Trident jumped from their shelves and lodged themselves in various folds of his clothing before the distracted cashier could recover.

            "All right guys, I don't think I want anything after all. See you outside," said the now significantly pudgier boy to his friends on the other side of the store. "Hey Dylan! Get me a donut, though," and he exited, letting in a rush of cold air as he did so.

            "Mmm-kay," the fattest boy replied, already shoving a donut into his mouth. He grabbed the last two from the rack and thrust them unceremoniously into a plastic baggie.

            "Hey, you boy! What are you doing!" the cashier shouted angrily. Dylan looked over to see his tall friend, John, head poised beneath the Slurpee machine, and mouth agape underneath the steady flow of icy, red drink. "OUT! Both of you, out of my store!" the man howled with rage.

            Dylan walked over to where John was still chugging Slurpee and switched off the nozzle. John emerged, flashing a red-toothed grin, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The 7-Eleven clerk stepped out from behind the counter and waved a phone in their faces.

            "You leave now or I call police!" he spat at them.

            "Ok, dude chill out," replied John. He and Dylan dodged past the phone in the direction of the door, grabbing a few Slim Jims on the way.

            "In my country, we do not stand for this! Thieves have hand cut off! Then, must wipe butt with eating hand!" the enraged man shouted at their backs. The cold night air rushed in once more as Dylan hastily pulled the door open.

            Aaron was waiting for them outside, shivering from the icy temperature and munching on a Milky Way bar.

            "What an asshole, man," John stated casually. "I was still gonna buy a Slurpee if he didn't go crazy."

            "Hey, lets go dudes. I'm freezing my butt off," Aaron said while rubbing his hind-quarters. They set off down Solano, deserted this late at night, but still lit by street lamps and the occasional car rolling by.

            "Dylan, lemme get something to eat," John pleaded to his chubby friend. Dylan was working on a chocolate donut with sprinkles, his third of the evening, but still, he shook his head. "Aw c'mon! You're fat-ass doesn't need any more. I know you got like, six Twinkies shoved down your pants or something!"

            A middle finger wagged in front of John's face as Dylan flipped him off.

            "Quit picking on Dylan, dude," Aaron mumbled through a Reeses. "Let's get to my house. I'm about to pass out." They reached the BART tracks and turned up the dark bike path that snakes beneath them.

            "Hold on guys, I have to piss. I drank too much of that nasty Slurpee," John told the other two. They stood on the cold, dark path as he faded from view.

            "That fool has the bladder control of a toddler, huh Dylan?" Aaron joked, turning towards his fat friend's shadowy figure.

            John sighed in ecstasy and gazed up a the stars from his spot behind a bush. Soon, he would be lying on Aaron's couch, surrounded by warmth and with the prospect of sleeping for as long as he wanted. His stomach growled and he patted it apologetically.

            "Sorry buddy, he told his gurgling tummy. We'll just have to sneak a Twinkie once the chubby lump falls asleep."

             "STOP! GET AWAY FROM ME!" someone screamed in terror back on the path. John winced as he pulled his zipper up a bit too quickly, but the pain was forgotten as he burst from the bush towards the noise. "AAAHHHH!" He heard them scream again, but then everything went quiet.

            "AARON! DYLAN!" John's voice echoed through the silent night. He waited for several moments before he got an answer.

            "JOHN! I'm over here!" John ran over to where Dylan was crouching, petrified with fear. "What's going on? Where's Aaron?"

            The two terrified teenagers crawled through the darkness, eyes bulging, trying to spot any sign of movement.

            "Dude, look over there," John whispered and pointed at something on the ground about ten feet away.

            "Aaron, is that you?" Dylan uttered so quietly, John barely heard him. There was no reply as the two stealthily approached the figure splayed out on the path. John stared down at his friend's pale face and wide eyes, fixed in a horrified stare.

            "Holy crap," was all John could manage to say. He glanced over at Dylan, who was also staring, mouth open, at Aaron's lifeless body, and then he remembered. "Wait, dude. Weren't you like, with Aaron when I left," John said slowly, now giving Dylan his full attention.

            "Naw man, I went and took a piss right after you. OH SHIT!" Dylan stepped back with a look of complete horror on his face. "His hand is fucking cut off!" He pointed at the disembodied hand. Blood was oozing from the stub of Aaron's arm and forming a pool of red around the lonely appendage.

            "Let's get the hell out of here! Some psycho m-must still be a-around man," John stuttered hastily to his friend. "He's gonna get us next, Dylan!" The tall boy turned away from Aaron's body and staggered off in the direction of Solano, drunk with fear.

            Dylan looked around nervously before following John's unsteady shadow. With a glance back at the darkness, he pulled out his Slim Jim, the last of their munchies, and broke into a run to catch up.

 

 

            The bell in the front of the store jingled as the door swung open, letting in the freezing night air. The man behind the counter looked up from his Playboy, waiting to see who was making a trip to 7-Eleven at this hour. He stood and saw the door was held open by a full Safeway shopping cart. There, inside, were the bodies of two teenage boys, each clutching a bloody, dismembered hand to their chest, and one with a jerky stick wrapped around his neck.