Shut The Fuck Up And Die! by William Todd Rose Read Free Book Online Page B

beckoned from the porch with his hand
like a policeman directing traffic and Matt brushed his lips
against his wife’s soft cheek.
    “ Come on, babe. I mean, it’s not like
they’re the ones who killed that woman in the dumpster,
right?”
     
     
    The inside of the house was like a museum to
dust. It covered everything from the rickety coffee table to the
picture frames on the wall with a dull film and Mona fought the
tickle in her nose as she perched on the threadbare couch. Besides
looking as if it had been years since a thorough cleaning had been
done, the place smelled old as well: there was a musty odor that
seemed to permeate everything and was only overpowered by the scent
of pine as logs crackled and popped within the fireplace. Like most
homes with elderly occupants, the air was so warm and dry it almost
felt as though every droplet of humidity had disappeared through
the cracks of the bowed, hardwood floor.
    Matt sat beside her and shifted positions
every few seconds in an attempt to find a way of sitting where the
springs of the couch didn’t press into his butt and legs like some
sort of medieval torture device. He glanced around the room ,
taking in everything from the deer head mounted on the wall to the
yellowed curtains that hung like funeral shrouds over the windows.
The panes were so old that the glass had a rippled texture when
viewed in just the right light and a draft must have seeped around
the edges, for the curtains rustled gently.
    Earl and Daryl had excused themselves, saying
that they wanted to change clothes and wash up, leaving the
newlyweds alone with the old woman. She’d promptly disappeared into
the kitchen and they could hear water boiling from the other room
as a high pitched whistle gathered strength.
    “ I want to thank you again, Ms Gruber,
for allowing my wife and I to stay the night. You don’t have to go
to any trouble for us. We’ll be out of your hair before you know
it.”
    “ No trouble at all, young man.” the
woman called out amid the clinking of dishes. “I reckon the two of
you woulda caught your death of cold on a night like this. Least we
can do is take in a couple down on their luck.”
    Feeling the need to add something to the
conversation, Mona chimed in.
    “ You . . . you have a beautiful home,
‘mam.”
    Shaking his head, Matt chuckled softly and
squeezed his wife’s leg as he winked at her. Mona, in turn, punched
him on the arm and then pushed him away as she arched her eyebrows.
This only caused his grin to widen, but he immediately straightened
as the old lady appeared in the doorway with a tray of teacups
balanced in her hands.
    “ And please,” she insisted, “call me
Mary.”
    She shuffled across the room and placed the
tray on the table in front of them. As she glanced at Mona,
something flickered in her eyes. For a second, her face seemed to
be nothing more than a paper-mache mask that hid something dark and
twisted behind its pale wrinkles. Something that stared out through
the eye holes with the cold, emotionless gaze of a primordial
predator; but, as quickly as this image appeared, it faded with her
smile.
    Mona accepted the tea with a smile of her own
and breathed in the tendrils of steam that curled from brown
liquid. Raising the chipped rim to her lips, she sipped carefully.
Almost immediately, a taste as bitter as a bad walnut flooded her
mouth and she took another drink, hoping the heat that flowed into
her throat would wash away the aftertaste. If anything, however, it
only made it worse.
    “ Mmmm . . . .” she lied, “it’s really
good.”
    “ It’s a little old, I’m afraid. The
boys like their coffee and it seems prideful to put out a full pot
just for me.”
    “ It is just a little bitter.” Mona
admitted.
    “ I reckon I might be able to scare up
some sugar if’n you . . . .”
    “ No, it’s fine.” Matt added. “You’ve
went to another trouble on our account.”
    Mary lowered herself into a chair that looked
as if a