I wasn't thinking about the madman when I sat at the kitchen table.
No, My mind was was on the trivial paperwork left from the office, it was wondering what Em would be bringing home for dinner. It was going on about the thousand small inconsequential things that make up a day in my life.
Nowhere in that slightly muddled morass was thoughts of the newspapers reports on the several murders that had the police stumped. Horrible sensational articles of people stabbed in their homes, often still in bed.
I flipped a page in on a contract about something I cared little about, my thoughts on Em. More importantly, what she would bring for dinner. Emilia was my wife of going on forever it seemed and she hadn't aged a day since I met her. I was currently hoping she wouldn't bring home any wine, I don't drink wine.
So as I sat there signing this, initialing that, editing this, I let my mind drift. The sounds floating in the night air from the window where almost musical. As such the sharp cracking sound startled me much more than it normally would. I jumped, then swore as I saw that my pen had jumped across the page with me.
Looking up I wondered at the the sound, it was reminiscent of a branch snapping, strange, because there where no trees in our yard. As I shrugged it off I heard another noise, not a crack, but more of a muffled thump. My blood chilled as realized it came from beneath my feet.
"somethings in the basement" I thought.
My mind flashed back to all the stories that kids tell each other around the campfire and I repressed an urge to giggle. It suddenly became very easy as my mind flashed onto the news I hadn't been thinking about.
I was across the room and had my hand on the knob to the basement before I realized it. The rational part of me figured it was a raccoon or possum. The irrational part conjured images of ax wielding maniacs and isn't this how people die in horror movies?
"Screw this, I'm calling the police" I'd much rather be laughed at for nothing than dead with an ax in my skull. I released the handle and turned to the living room in search of the phone. Lifting the handset I was able to punch in nine, then one, before the lights and the phone both died. Crap.
Once again the irrational and rational parts of my mind went to war. The irrational part went over all the horror movie tropes and idly wondered what was next. The rational part pretty much kind of gibbered. I mean, I'm no coward, but I'm definitely not hero material either. As I stood frozen clutching the silent handset I heard the basement door in the kitchen creak open.
I turned in that slow horror movie action you see so often. He stood there glaring with mad eyes, his breath panting, nostrils flaring. The first thing that came into my mind was....... "He looks like an accountant".
The madman that had the police stumped, that frightened so many people stood dressed in a sharp vest, nice button down shirt, pressed khakis and shined shoe. He was also holding a broken piece of chair leg in one hand and an uncapped bottle full of floating things and glittering specks in the other. All this flashed through my mind as he threw the bottle at my head while suddenly screaming inarticulately. The bottle shattered on the wall, spraying me with foul smelling shimmering liquid. I chucked the nearly useless phone at him in turn. He flinched and I made for the stairs. Good things were up the stairs. I knew because up the stairs, through the bedroom door and in the nightstand sat my revolver.
I was halfway up the stairs when about two hundred pounds of feral accountant hit me from behind, smashing me down hard enough that my head bounced off a step. Along with the stars that blinded me came the thought that I wanted to carpet the stairs, something muted, nothing with a pattern, simple. As I fell I had managed to half-turn and as such the hunk of sharp wood was headed for my chest instead of my back. I flung my arm up and his weapon grazed along it, ripping into my skin before stopping short of my body. Crazy eyes shoved down with a frustrated yell, putting his body into it. I pushed back, putting my will for continued existence into it. He reared suddenly, and with an incoherent cry he went to strike me again. I managed to get my foot into his belly and shove. His face made an O of surprise as he tumbled down the stars. I scrambled up the and into the bedroom, slamming the door and locking it.
"Holy crap I just might make it!" Diving for the night stand I snatched out my gun and the box of ammo. It was a chiappa Rhino, a big gun that fired big bullets, and Em hated me having the revolver in the house. As my shaking fingers fumbled open the gun and tried to load, the door shook as the bean-counter from hell tried to break it down, his grunts promising kebabs in my future. I dropped to the floor as the door gave, my gun and his spike both raising in the air. There was a bang and my arm jerked, Mr. numbers looked down at the hole in his vest, frozen. As he slumped he looked at me, his eyes accusatory. He muttered his first and only intelligible statement before falling face first. "not....fair"
I sat on the bed and let my revolver slide to the floor. shocked that I wasn't skewered.
I'm not certain how long I sat like that, but what finally roused me was the sound of the front door and Em's cheerful voice filling the house.
"Honey I'm home, I brought Chinese. Hope you're hungry!"
Stumbling to the head of the stairs I witnessed my sweet Em leading a slack-jawed oriental woman by the hand. The woman's neck had two small trickles of blood leading to petite wounds on her neck. I worked my way down the stairs as Em's happy voice chattered on. "I hope you don't mind, I simply HAD to have a little nibble on the way home, chinese is my favorite. Oh, you will never guess what I saw on..." Her voice trailed off as she took in my bedraggled, wet, bruised and bloody form.
"My God! What happened to you!?" Her pert nose wrinkled "Why do you smell like garlic? Also, why on earth are you covered in glitter? You aren't supposed to glitter!"
