Fear the Barfitron by M. D. Payne Read Free Book Online Page B

“I’m very sorry, but our kitchen is closed for the night. I’d offer you some punch, but I’m afraid it’s not the kind of drink meant for…a young person such as yourself.”
    “Punch?” I asked.
    “Yes, punch. Tonight, we’re throwing a dance for the residents, and the kitchen concocted a punch for the occasion. The Great Room has been transformed into a ballroom. All we need now is the appropriate music.”
    He motioned me toward the Great Room, and we stepped through the door together.
    A huge, empty dance floor took up most of the space. The residents were all slouched in chairs to the side of the dance floor or growling and burping around the bloodred punch bowl. The old man with the sharp teeth avoided the crowd around the bowl by using a long straw to reach it. He slurped loudly from ten feet away.
    “Tonight,” said the Director, “you’ll be playingmusic while our residents couple up and dance. You’ll find we’ve set up a DJ station for you where Horace usually sits.”
    The Director took a bow and exited.
    Two old turntables and a crate of dusty old records sat on a table at the front of the ballroom. After I made sure there were no spider eggs in the crate, I shuffled through the monsterly collection, which included The Dave Boo-beck Quartet, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, The Crypt-Kickers, and a bat-shaped record that didn’t have a sleeve.
    I pulled out the bat-shaped record, but soon realized it wasn’t a record. It was a real bat. Its leathery skin was still moist and squishy, and small wads of greasy fur fell off its rotten body. Its little bat face looked terribly squished, but I could still see its sharp fangs.
    The bat reeked terribly, and I tossed it behind the organ.
    “Sorry, Horace,” I mumbled.
    I sniffed my hand. It smelled like I had just petted a wet dog that had rolled around in week-old fish and horse dung.
    “Ewww.” I burped, and my stomach bunched into knots.
    I’m turning into Ben,
I thought, and held back another spewfest.
    The old folks were starting to moan and groan, andshuffle into the center of the dance floor. They were all well-dressed—but in really old clothes. One old man coughed and moths flew out of his holey suit…and his mouth!
    To keep them from shuffling right up to me and making any requests (like “May I eat you?”), I grabbed a record out of the crate as quickly as I could, took it out of its sleeve, blew a few tons of dust off one side, sneezed, and then flopped it down on one of the turntables. I searched desperately for a Repeat button so I would have time to find my lebensplasm, but my only choices were Stop and Start.
    I chose Start. The record crackled for a little bit, and then a spooky slow swing song started to play. After a short intro, a singer started. He sounded like he was growling.
    Oh, I’m so hungry
    Yes, so, so hungry for you
    Dance on over to my castle
    And give me something to chew
    A few of the old folks went “Awww” as they recognized the tune, and shuffled into pairs. They danced a slow, slow dance. Their bones creaked.
    The name of the album was
Moonlight Serenades
by Count Vlad and the Count Basie Orchestra.
    The song was called “Neck Nibble Nocturne.”
    My skin crawled as the singer continued.
    Look up at the moon
    My dear
    The stars are so bright
    My dear
    I bend down to you
    My dear
    And I bite you so right
    Don’t fear
    The singer stopped and a scary-sounding trumpet started to play. My heart rose into my throat. Monsters slow danced with monsters. Banshees. Vampires. Werewolves. Witches. Swamp things. Mummies. Old monsters of all different shapes and sizes.
    Two zombies were delicately nibbling each other’s necks. The Nurses in the room moved in to break them up.
    With the Nurses distracted, I crept out of the Great Room. I went back to the kitchen door, opened it up, and quickly slipped inside.
    A Nurse stood at an open refrigerator with a big, satisfied grin. He was chewing on a large, slimy tentacle when he