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“Hey, Mrs Rix.   Can I come in?”

She rubs her knuckle into her forehead for a minute, and looks dazedly at the hoodie-clad kid, then holds open the door.   She can’t recall how much she’s taken tonight, but the little box with the butterflies in her pocket is empty, and so is the vodka bottle on the sideboard.   The kid – did she invite him? doesn’t she know him? – settles into a leather armchair confidently.

“Hey Mrs Rix – know what today is?   Friday the 13th.   You ever seen that movie, Mrs Rix?   You ever seen Friday the 13th?”

She’s trying to place him: unwilling to be rude yet, but beginning to feel uneasy.

“It’s a horror film – they made a whole series of them.   Famous for this killer dude called Jason – he wears a hockey mask and stuff.   You’d love him, Mrs Rix.”

This boy neatly straightens the photo of her boy on the glass table nearby, dusting away the remnants of her high-grade secret snuff before it, as he talks on.

“Thing is, the original movie is kinda a trick question: killed Drew Barrymore in Scream, you know.   Because Jason isn’t the first killer – it’s his wacked-out mom in revenge for what was done to her son.   See – usually I don’t get the revenge thing.   It’s too erratic, too emotional: especially when it’s for the sake of someone else.   I’ve got a friend, right, who… but that’s another story.”

She can’t follow this – sits down to look at him in blank wonder.

“But when it’s about righting the balance of power – oh, I get that.   With me and your son? – it was about maintaining equilibrium right from the beginning.   You hear that, Mrs Brix?   Your son got into some pretty heavy shit with me, and it’s time to lighten his load.   So originally, yeah? – Friday the 13th was about a psycho mom killing people and then her psycho son taking up the family business.   But this Friday 13th, I’m thinking it’s about a psycho mom getting killed first, and a psycho son not being able to lift a finger to stop it.”

He waggles his right hand at her cheerfully, and she’s not sure she counts the right number of fingers.   But it doesn’t matter.

Because then for a time there’s only blood and buzz and butchering.  

And then the credits roll.





  1. phew, you are back on form, you had me worried a while ago that you were becoming nice, human even, but no, you’re nasty as fuck again. Bravo.

  2. Doing a catch-up. Can’t believe I got this far behind. My dark side feels a little more fulfilled after this post though 🙂 Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch.

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