r/DarkTales • u/notmyworst • 2d ago
Flash Fiction Wrong Order
“Here’s your change, Sir.”
Mervyl grumbled a response, dropping the handful of coins into the ashtray. He’d dig the silver out later for the cherry machines. When she handed him his bag he shook it.
“Feels light,” he drawled. “You didn’t short me my slaw, did ya?”
“Everything’s there, Sir. Thank you for visiting HunkaBurger. Come again.”
“We’ll see,” he growled as he pulled away. “Better have my GD slaw in there.”
He tossed the bag into the seat beside him, dug out a smoke, and tapped the radio on in a series of fast, practiced motions. He flicked his Bic and took a deep draw that ended in a wet, rattling cough.
“Cheap ass lighter.”
“WROP. We play the beats that keep you awake in your seat.”
Quick drums, smooth guitar, and a familiar bassline filled the cab of Mervyl’s pickup and he began to hum along, drumming his fingers along the top of the steering wheel in almost perfect time. Cigarette ashes flew everywhere as he was carried away with the song. Radar Love was one of his absolute favorites.
Mervyl’s raspy caterwaul drowned out Barry Hay’s energetic lyrics. The truck wove across the lanes like a squirrel in a hawk’s shadow as he bobbed his head and shoulders with the song. A pair of headlights blinked up ahead in the dark and the tires squealed as he swerved hard to right the old Ford.
“Damn bright-lightin’ idjits.”
Something rustled inside the bag in the seat next to him.
His eyes widened as he drew out a fresh coffin nail and stuck it between his teeth. Surely the bag was just settling from his quick correction. His thumb struck the wheel of the lighter, producing a flame just as the greasy paper bag crackled again. The lighter fell into his lap.
“What in the blistered shit was that?”
Mervyl reached over and grabbed the bag, pinching the folded top with two nicotine-stained fingers. He lifted it up to eye level and almost dropped it when it twitched in his hand.
“Nuh-uh,” he tossed it out the window and heard it land in the bed of the truck. “Fuckin’ rat. Damn things are everywhere."
He sparked his new smoke and ate up some miles. He was only thirty minutes from home, and good Lord willing the old lady might get her a drilling. Mervyl chuckled at his own wit and his daddy’s old words. It had never occurred to him that his old man had been talking about his mama when he said that.
Mervyl wasn’t much for hidden meanings.
Something tapped the back glass pulling him out of his Skynyrd song. Several rapid scratchy tinks followed and he almost went into the ditch. When he heard it on the roof he grabbed the window handle and started turning it. He held the wheel with his knee and banged his fist against the headliner.
The window was almost up when a crawling nightmare the size of a healthy rat or a sickly cat pulled its flat body through it. It was long and likely mean and covered with more legs than a Kentucky Fried buffet. Mervyl shrieked and batted it away. The horrible thing flew across the cab taking his two lesser fingers with it.
“Lord, Sonny Jesus, and all the saints!” he howled. “It’s a goddam scorpion cat.”
It scuttled up the door in a flurry of furry chitin and onto the dash. He watched in horror as a fingertip vanished into its terrible four-way split mouth. The skittering terror crouched low and hissed at him.
Mervyl growled back at it, raising his bloody fist and driving it down onto it with a satisfying crunch. He leaned all his weight into the attack, sending the truck sliding onto the gravel shoulder. As he pulled his maimed hand away from the tiny beast a few legs fell away from it. They snailed down the front of the glove compartment on long gray slimy trails.
“Yeah, you sneaky shitwrangler!” Mervyl tried to flip his fuck finger at it but only his thumb remained. He looked at its crushed body and saw his ring and bird hanging out of its mouth. The creepy little hellbug slurped them down like the world’s worst spaghetti. Its body crackled and throbbed as it pulled itself back up on its remaining legs.
“Oh, you want another’n?” Mervyl waved the chunk of useless meat that used to be his fist threateningly. The creature wasn’t scared though. It leapt at him, causing him to jerk and stomp down hard when it landed on his chest. The last thing Mervyl saw before he passed out was the guardrail in front of him as the old Ranger flipped over it and went airborne.
He woke up facedown in the ditch a short while later. His chest hurt like a son of a bitch and his clothes were soaked through. Mervyl rolled over onto his back and checked his front. There were bits and pieces of the thing stuck in his flannel shirt. Deep gashes covered his chest where its legs had dug in.
A thick spatter of blood landed on his shirt and he followed the line of red spittle up to his mouth. Most of his lower lip and several bottom teeth were missing. He spat out a mouthful of what tasted like a mixture of blood, motor oil, and canned salmon.
Mervyl stood up on shaky legs and appraised the wreckage of the truck that had served him well for over thirty years. If he had a hat he would have taken it off for it. He’d flipped the odometer on it twice and it still ran true. Well, that was before he’d rolled his luck on a cup of takeout slaw.
“Fuckin’ Hunkaburger. What a hunk of shit.”
Mervyl clambered up the embankment to stand on the shoulder and waited for headlights. He reckoned a thumb was the only finger he needed in his present condition.
END
2
u/CallmeKitts_ 1d ago
Again, I enjoy everything about Mervyl and his situation(s).😼