Irrationalia Read online

  IRRATIONALIA

  Andersen Prunty

  Irrationalia copyright © 2018 by Andersen Prunty. All rights reserved.

  Published by Grindhouse Press

  PO BOX 293161

  Dayton, Ohio 45429

  Grindhouse Press logo and all related artwork copyright © 2018 by Brandon Duncan. All rights reserved.

  Front cover image copyright © 2018 by Taras Kolomiyets/Shutterstock. All rights reserved.

  Irrationalia

  Grindhouse Press # 037

  Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-941918-31-9

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including mechanical, electric, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author.

  Also by Andersen Prunty

  Failure As a Way of Life

  Kill Your Neighbor

  This Town Needs a Monster

  Squirm With Me

  Creep House: Horror Stories

  Sociopaths In Love

  The Warm Glow of Happy Homes

  Bury the Children in the Yard: Horror Stories

  Satanic Summer

  Fill the Grand Canyon and Live Forever

  Pray You Die Alone: Horror Stories

  Sunruined: Horror Stories

  The Driver’s Guide to Hitting Pedestrians

  Hi I’m a Social Disease: Horror Stories

  Fuckness

  The Sorrow King

  Slag Attack

  My Fake War

  Morning is Dead

  The Beard

  Zerostrata

  Jack and Mr. Grin

  The Overwhelming Urge

  For Carrie—

  I’m glad I can write something like this and still consider you my muse. This just might be true love.

  ONE

  The gate at the end of the driveway was large and forbidding.

  It swung inward and Lexi asked, “What did you say he did again?”

  Shawn tried his best to smile and breathed out, “I don’t know what he does,” before pulling the fifteen-year-old Camry up the winding blacktop driveway. “The last time I saw him was in high school.”

  “I thought you said you guys were close?”

  “Well, yeah, in high school. Maybe a year or two after that. Then it just became, you know, a sort of maintenance relationship. We’d hang out once every couple years or so. Maybe email back and forth a little once that became a thing. It was like, once we didn’t live ten minutes apart, it just became too hard or something. Look, I told you all this before.”

  “Sad,” Lexi said.

  Shawn guessed it was probably kind of sad. Especially for someone like Lexi who, even now at thirty-nine, was still close to the friends she went to high school with. Sadder yet was that it wasn’t even true. He knew exactly when he’d last spoken to Grant and it was before they were out of high school. There hadn’t been any communication since. Shawn had only lied to Lexi to avoid an argument. It would seem less strange if he and Grant had had at least some contact over the years. Shawn wasn’t even sure it was worth it. Wasn’t sure if he knew why he even wanted to come. It just felt like something he had to do. Or he was just hoping to get away from Lexi. He didn’t think she would want to come with him.

  They went up a small hill and the blacktop curved to the left, bringing the house into full view. It was a striking image of modern architecture. Shawn doubted it had been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, but it had that look. A lot of rock and concrete and glass. He was simultaneously impressed, resentful, and confused. He didn’t know what he expected. Possibly a campground.

  “Are his parents rich?” Lexi asked.

  “Well, we grew up here so everybody had a little money but I think Grant’s family was like mine. It took everything they made just to live here. They probably got their house cheap before prices shot up and then struggled just to keep up with the property taxes. I mean, his mom was a bank teller and his dad was a carpenter. Everything seemed pretty modest.”

  Another lie. Shawn had never been to Grant’s house. None of them had. For all he knew, this could be Grant’s parents’ house, if they were still around. If so, it would have had to have been built in the last couple decades, though, because this house hadn’t been there when they were in high school. It had just been woods.

  “If his family was like yours then I would say it was somewhat less than modest.”

  “Are you saying I was poor? I’m heartbroken.”

  “You should just be happy I met you during a slumming phase.”

  “Aww, but I was charming, wasn’t I?”

  “Was being the operative word there.”

  She gave him a pat on the thigh as he pulled to the far side of the circular drive and brought the car to a stop.

  “I feel like we should wait for someone to come and take the car away, maybe collect our bags,” he said.

  Lexi turned to look at the house. “Might be waiting a while.”

  Shawn turned to follow her line of sight, wondering if she’d seen something to make her say this. Other than the nearly abandoned, slightly unwelcoming nature of the house up close, he didn’t see anything.

  “You ready to do this?” he asked.

  “What if it’s horrible?” she said.

  “That’s why science invented drinks, my love.”

  “Unless he’s another victim of the Too Much Generation.”

  Lexi was referring to fifty percent of their friends who now identified as ‘sober.’ Most of them had been drinking heavily and taking nearly whatever drug they could lay hands on (on top of their already abundant prescriptions) since they were about fifteen or so. It was slowly killing the ones who hadn’t already died.

  The latest victim had been a guy Lexi went to college with named Maxwell Bernhart. His suicide note had read simply: “I should have paced myself.”

  As with all the incidents like this over the past few years, three more of their friends seemed to find sobriety in its wake.

  Good for them, he guessed, although he was always morbidly curious about how long it would last.

  “If he is,” Shawn said, “let’s hope he’s a great host and keeps some good stuff around for his guests.” Shawn worked at a brewery and the thought of going to bed without a couple of relaxing beers seemed nearly debilitating. Besides caffeine, it was the one vice he had and, even if he were to consider himself dependent, he would have laughed at anyone who suggested he had a problem.

  “This is so weird.” Lexi creaked open her door.

  “Weirder than your friend’s circumcision ceremony?”

  “What’s weird about that? Most people are circumcised. You’re circumcised.”

  “When I was a baby. Dude was like thirty-five.”

  “I guess he felt strongly about it.”

  “Still, c’mon, it was weird, right?”

  “It was different.”

  “Okay. Fine.”

  Shawn popped the trunk and pulled out the suitcase on wheels, letting it drop to the ground and lifting the telescopic handle before grabbing the massive duffel bag. No real plans had been spelled out in the invitation so Lexi, always over-prepared, packed for nearly every occasion: bathing suits, athletic apparel, sleepwear, sweaters and hoodies, even though the temperature had been nearly ninety even up near Cleveland and he didn’t see how it would be any colder here at the bottom of Ohio. Not to mention he had no idea how long they would be staying. Shawn just shrugged it off. He had been grateful for her prepper behavior on more than a few occasions.r />
  He was the type of person who thought, “It’s raining. Guess I’ll get wet.”

  Lexi was the type of person who thought, “It’s raining. Good thing I have, like, three umbrellas.”

  Lexi let him lead the way, as well as carry all the baggage, to the front door.

  Shawn was a little surprised Grant hadn’t come out to greet them. It was a huge house and entirely possible he hadn’t heard them pull up but the gate had opened with no prompting from them so it felt like somebody had to know they were here.

  He tugged the suitcase up the two flagstone steps and readjusted the duffel on his shoulder, already breaking a sweat. He looked at his hazy reflection in the polished surface of the heavy wooden door, turned to glance and shrug at Lexi, and pushed the surprisingly modest buzzer for the doorbell.

  Lexi, already bored, had her phone out and was giving it an angry face. “Of course there’s no reception out here.”

  Shawn swallowed, his mouth dry. “I’m sure he’s got wi-fi or something.”

  “This better not suck.” She slid the phone back into her pocket.

  “You didn’t have to come.”

  Lexi crossed her arms under her breasts and huffed. Shawn gave her a nearly sarcastic smile. He’d repeatedly told her she could stay home and she had still been insistent on coming along.

  Just as Shawn contemplated ringing the doorbell again, the door swung open. He half expected to see some sort of dour Jeeves-ish manservant standing before him.

  Instead, it was Grant Hinton, albeit a wildly transformed version. He assumed Grant would be a jeans and t-shirt guy like himself. Throughout high school, Grant had worn his hair long and pulled into a ponytail. A full head of hair women swooned over was a luxury Shawn had never had. He’d only managed to hold on to his hair until his mid-twenties before the hairline started receding. Unfortunately, the swooning had been completely lost on Grant. He wasn’t ugly or anything but there was something about him that made people keep their distance. He hadn’t had a single girlfriend throughout high school.

  This Grant’s hair was shorter and looked like it had been styled with some kind of product, although it was now wildly disheveled. He wore a well-tailored gray sportcoat matching equally well-tailored gray slacks. All the way down to the expensive shoes, it seemed like a different Grant. Perhaps the most striking things about him were the sunglasses and the large gauze bandage wrapped around his right hand.

  “Grant Hinton!” Shawn called, opening his arms and moving in for a hug.

  Grant took a tentative, possibly slightly injured, step back and said, “Yes. That’s my name.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me,” Shawn said.

  “Shawn,” Grant said. “Of course I recognize you. I invited you.”

  This whole dialogue was throwing Shawn off a little and he felt a couple steps behind.

  He sidestepped to his left and motioned toward Lexi.

  “This is my wife, Lexi,” he said.

  Lexi smiled and stepped forward.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said.

  Grant looked at her extended hand like he didn’t know what to do with it. Then he looked out beyond the driveway, at the dense pine trees growing at the perimeter of the sloping front yard, and said, “You can come inside now.”

  “Uh, okay. Cool, man,” Shawn said.

  Grant turned and walked to the right of the door, keeping his hand on the wall as though bracing himself.

  Lexi and Shawn followed him down a dimly lit hall that opened into a large bright kitchen. It was only bright because of the windows and sliding glass doors on the far side. There were no lights on in the house.

  Standing next to an island in the kitchen was a nervous looking young woman wearing service industry clothes—a black polo shirt, black slacks, and puffy black shoes. Probably a maid or cook or something.

  Grant abandoned the wall, flapped his arm toward the kitchen, said, “Kitchen,” and then slowly trembled his way to the sliding door, working hard to open it. He then walked out past the patio and collapsed onto the lawn.

  “Is he okay?” Shawn asked the maid or the cook or whatever.

  “He’ll get up,” the woman said. “He just needs his rest.” She looked like she was about ready to cry.

  “I’m Shawn Martin. This is my wife, Lexi.” Shawn held out his hand.

  The woman took it and said, “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Natalie. I help out.”

  She then took Lexi’s hand.

  “Is there somewhere we can throw these?” Shawn lifted his suitcase and bag.

  “Oh, of course. Let me show you to your room.”

  “What. The. Fuck,” Lexi said once Natalie had left.

  They’d gotten rid of her by telling her they needed to clean up a bit. Otherwise, he was pretty sure she was just going to stand there vacantly for who knew how long.

  “Um,” Shawn said. “Yeah. I’m not sure.”

  The truth was that Grant’s behavior and appearance shocked Shawn but he hadn’t really known what to expect. He hadn’t read the email out loud to Lexi, merely summed it up as the invitation it was. Or, at least, the invitation he thought it was. The mystery of the email was half the reason he wanted to come instead of just blowing it off. The other half was pretty much just boredom and the fact that he and Lexi hadn’t left the greater Cleveland area in what felt like a year. Those weren’t really the reasons, though. Now Shawn was trying to lie to himself.

  The invitation was startlingly incoherent, filled with typos and sentences that didn’t seem to go anywhere. Grant had seemed like a bright enough kid but the email rivaled the most idiotic MeTube comments he’d ever read. So, in short, Shawn wanted to see if Grant was okay.

  There. Another lie. The truth was that Shawn would be here regardless of the email’s contents. He didn’t really know why. Or he did, but couldn’t remember. That wasn’t a lie.

  Lexi kicked off her shoes and sat on the end of the bed.

  “I will say this just became a whole lot more fun though. Scary, maybe, but fun. So is he a drunk or on pills or what?”

  “Oh, that’s just Grant.” Shawn ducked into the bathroom and closed the door.

  It wasn’t Grant. Not really. But who knew what he’d been up to the past twenty-five years. People changed. It was impossible to think he had any idea who Grant was anymore.

  He turned the light on in the small bathroom and lifted the lid to the toilet. He pulled out his cock to take a piss and found himself oddly aroused. He thought about Lexi stretched out on the end of the bed. He wondered what she would do if he came out, slipped his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and slid them down. Of course she’d be surprised. They’d been together so long they hardly ever—no, never, anymore anyway—attacked each other. As much as he wanted to believe she would acquiesce, possibly even be into it, he felt like he knew what would happen. She’d say she was tired from the drive or that she felt like a pig from being cooped up in the car all day. Anything to fend him off, like having anything other than their weekly romp on Saturday night would throw the world out of balance.

  He shook off and tucked himself in before flushing the toilet.

  Should probably just jerk off, he thought.

  He turned to leave the bathroom and then thought, Why not?

  He knew how he was when he got like this. It wouldn’t take him very long and if he didn’t do it he’d feel distracted for the rest of the evening. He thought about pulling something up on his phone but remembered they didn’t have a signal. He’d have to make do.

  He pulled his underwear down again and staggered back over to the toilet. He grabbed his cock in his hand and closed his eyes and thought about . . . Lena Hurst.

  It shocked him but aroused him further at the same time.

  Lena was another of his high school friends.

  Had Grant invited her too?

  He’d have to re-read the nearly indecipherable email.

  Then
again, maybe he wouldn’t. Of course Grant had invited her. Shawn was pretty sure he knew exactly who all Grant invited. The only real question was which of them would actually show up.

  He felt like he knew the answer to that too.

  Lena had been gone by their senior year so he realized he was jerking off to the image of a teenager and, while he may have found that creepy at some more lucid moment, he was not currently in the philosophical or moralistic position to debate himself. He’d always had a crush on Lena, suspected they all did, but had never done anything with her. He was pretty sure the only one of them who did was Edward. He wondered if he was coming too. And now he was thinking about his old friend Edward Koenig all over Lena Hurst and his erection was stiffer than ever. Eventually he came just to minimize the shame.

  His face felt flushed. He took in a shaky breath, wiped himself off with toilet paper, and flushed it all, realizing a second too late he’d now flushed the toilet twice and Lexi would probably ask him about it.

  He worked out an answer while he washed his hands.

  “I had to pee. Then decided I had to shit. You know long car rides fuck with me sometimes.”

  But she didn’t ask.

  Lexi wasn’t in the room at all.

  TWO

  “I didn’t even know there were houses back here,” the Uber driver said to Lena.

  She sat in the back seat of the well-worn Hyundai that smelled overpoweringly of some kind of cologne. The Uber driver’s name was George and she felt like he used Uber as a dating site as much as he did an extra income. She wondered how well that had been working out for him.

  She’d made the mistake of asking him the first question: “What’s that smell?”

  To which he’d responded, “I’m really into vintage colognes. Hope you like it.”

  “Vintage colognes?”

  “Yeah. You know . . . Brut, Drakkar Noir, Jovan Musk, Old Spice, Polo. Stuff nobody wears much anymore.”

  Instead of responding, Lena rolled down the window.