Night of The Living Gary

"Sean-y! I know you must've been busy, but this time, I really need to come into the house. You see, I fell on the way back to my car and scratched my knee." My uncle lowered his hand down as he spoke, pointing a finger at his bruised, bloody leg. His bleach white cargo shorts had ripped, with copious amounts of ruby red blood staining the pale fabric. One of his shoes was missing, along with the sock, and his Hawaiian shirt had lost nearly half of it's buttons.

What the? It's Uncle fucking Gary again. The alcohol renewed my earlier fury and removed any inhibitions that I had left. "Go home Uncle Gary. This isn't Christmas you fucker. I don't want to see you, go away!" Why did I have this hatred? I don't know, but it felt good.

"But, Sean-y, my leg..." My uncle's eyes grow wide and sad as they stare into mine.

A swell of shame and sympathy washes over me as I realize that I've been kind of a dick to a member of my family. Even though he's a steaming pile of crap, I should treat him better. I bite my lip as I weigh the prospect of remedying the situation.

"Look Gary, I'm sorry about shutting the door on you earlier and yelling. I'll go get some bandages for your leg." I start to turn my body before my uncle's voice stops me.

"That's not how it works, Sean-y. You have to invite me in. Why's it so hard to welcome your dear old uncle into your home?"

"What? What are you talking about Gary?" I swivel back so that I'm face to face with him. His eyes were no longer warm and harmless. They'd turned cold and twisted, now resembling the eyes of a predator, staring with icy determination at its prey. His voice crackles as he speaks to me.

"Have you seen how the horned one walks behind the meadows, Sean-y? Do you hear the chorus of flies as they circle around a carcass, Sean-y? Do you want to know what god thinks Sean-y? Do you Sean-y?" Gary lets out a blood-curdling scream as green, slimy foam begins bubbling out of his mouth.

I do what I do best, and I slam the door as hard as I possibly can, separating myself from whatever the hell was happening with my uncle. What the fuck is going on? I sprint over to my cell phone, setting the precious beer down on the end table by my home's entrance. My worried fingers dial 9-1-1 as my index finger rapidly pushes the 'Call' button.

A monotone, robotic female voice speaks through the phone speaker. "We're sorry, your number is no longer in service. Please hang up and open the door for your uncle for more options. Goodbye." To my horror, the phone abruptly turns off. Oh my god, what the hell does that mean?

"Do what the bitch says, Sean-y!" I hear a voice bark from outside my home. It didn't sound like Gary. No, this voice was deeper, ringing of dark, malicious intent.

"Stop it Gary. This prank isn't funny. Who put you up to this?" Just as I finish shouting, the house lights go out, shrouding me in near complete darkness. What do I do? What the hell do I do now? As my brain wrestles with the panic, my ears pick up an ominous sound coming from within the house: the pounding of footsteps.

"Sometimes rules can be broken too, Sean-y, especially for the right price."

I gasp as suddenly the voice is right next to me, and I feel something latch onto my arm. Hands with fingers way too long to be my uncle's wrap around my bicep, squeezing like one would squeeze a sponge.

"Yes, you really haven't missed a meal. The greater the calf, the greater the harvest. I'm so happy to be here with you, Sean-y." His grip is freezing, cutting off the circulation to my limb. As the lights flicker back on, what I see paralyzes me, far more than his grip ever could.

The whites of my uncle's eyes had turned an obsidian black, his pupils now a fiery red. His ripped Hawaiian shirt stretched over his now hunched, deformed back. The tattered remains of his cargo shorts clung to his hideous form, like refuse on the edge of an alleyway.