Dearest, sweetest, most irritating Bad Bugs…
Why do you do this to me? For the first time in Bugtime Story history, we had a tie for which ending I needed to write for this month’s twisted tale. Rather than flip a coin or just choose one and pretend the tie never happened, I decided to write both. Please, don’t do this to me again.
After taking a moment to steady myself, I took the box cutter and slit the tape in one smooth motion. The hissing noise stopped as soon as I lifted the blade free.
Sweat made my palms slick as I gingerly lifted the flaps of the box. In that moment, right when my impulsive need to see inside the box had taken control, a little part of me wondered if I was about to get bitten by a snake.
Inside the box was a red velvet bag, cinched at the top with a gold cord. I lifted the bag out—it was heavy. Heavier than it had seemed when it had been inside the cardboard box. I held the bag in my hands for several agonizing seconds as I waited for the hissing sound again, but it never returned. Deciding that I had come too far to back out now, I placed the bag back on the bed and pulled the cord loose.
The bag seemed to fall open on its own, revealing the severed head of a middle-aged woman. I covered my mouth to stifle a scream. Ned and his father were nuts, and one—or both of them—was a killer. I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible and find campus security to help me out. Then the hissing returned, and I realized that the dead woman’s lips were pursed as if in a kiss. It seemed that the hissing sound was from air leaving her mouth.
“What the fuck?!” I said aloud, backing toward the door.
Then the woman’s eyes flicked open and looked around the room.
“Where’s my Ned?” she asked.
Her voice was dry and cracked as she spoke. It reminded me of crunching leaves during the fall. I stumbled backward against the door in shock.
“H-he’s not here,” I stammered.
“You shouldn’t have opened the box!” she hissed.
Her eyes met mine, and she let out an ear-piercing scream. It was so loud I was sure that the windows would shatter. I’m not sure if they did, because that is the last thing I remember. I woke up hours later in the hospital. They haven’t let me go back to school yet—the doctor seems to think I’m having a psychotic episode, but I know what I saw, and now you do too.
After taking a moment to steady myself, I set the box back down on the bed and waited for Ned to return, sitting on my own bed on the opposite wall.
The box seemed to be taunting me with its faint hissing from across the room. I struggled against the urge to open it for what seemed like half an hour. Finally, Ned ran into the room, panic-stricken.
“Where is it?!” he shouted, pushing past me.
“What?” I asked, though I already knew exactly what he was talking about.
“My father gave you a very special box!” Ned shouted. “Where is it?”
“I-I tossed it on the bed and it started to make a hissing sound. I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t break it…”
Ignoring me, Ned picked the box up and cradled it to his chest almost lovingly. He was whispering something to the box, though I couldn’t hear what. Something was clearly off here, so I stood up and made for the door, hoping that I could switch rooms. This was too weird already.
“Yes, mother,” Ned said a little louder. “Yes, that’s a great idea.” Then he raised his voice to stop me from leaving. “Wait! I want to show you something.”
I turned around to see that Ned was already cutting the box open with the box cutter. He let the cardboard fall to the floor as he held a red velvet bag in his hands.
“You met my father earlier,” he said. “Now I’d like you to meet my mother.”
Ned pulled on the cord, and the bag fell away, revealing the severed head of a middle-aged woman. I screamed as I stumbled back, falling to the floor. He took a step toward me, his eyes wide and staring.
“Say hello, mother,” he said.
“You are fucking nuts!” I shouted.
Then the dead woman’s eyes fluttered open and looked right at me.
“Don’t talk to my Ned like that!” she croaked.
Something came over me in that moment that I can’t explain. I stood and charged Ned and that accursed thing he was holding, pushing them both out of the window. As they fell I heard two voices screaming for help before the loud thump that signaled at least Ned’s death.
Now I’m awaiting my murder trial. I can’t sleep at night—I keep dreaming of that head saying “you killed my precious Ned” over and over. The worst part of it is, no one ever mentioned finding a severed head with Ned’s broken body—though there was a trail of blood that led into the bushes as if something had rolled away from the dead undergrad.
I think I’ll ask for the death penalty if the dreams don’t stop—just so long as they keep my head attached to my body afterward.
KILLIN’ IT ON KICKSTARTER
Faster Monster Girl! Kill! Kill!
Faster, Monster Girl! Kill! Kill! - The latest in Jason Pell’s Monster Girl Beach Party series is out: “In the wild world of 1970s exploitation cinema, our gang of seductive monster girls hijack the studios and flip the script—filming their own outrageous, grindhouse-style movies where they call the shots. It's blood, babes, and B-movie rebellion.”
Junk World
Junk World #1 - A smuggler and her wise-cracking robot companion must survive the threats of a wasteland planet filled with mutants and mayhem. Written by Scott Wilke, with art by Vinz el Tabanas.
Alrighty team, it’s back to moving for me. See you next month for a new Bugtime Story (and hopefully only one ending!)
Bugs and Kisses,
Kris and the Bad Bug crew
