Strange Brain Parts Read online

  Strange Brain Parts

  short stories by Allan Hatt

  Copyright 2011 Allan Hatt

  Smashwords Edition

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  Table Of Contents:

  Monsters In Mirrors

  An E.T. Named Sue

  The Big Leftover Whatever

  Divine Interpretation

  Afterwords

  Monsters In Mirrors

  I go down to the basement and there's my sister making out with Frankenstein's monster.

  Rushing forward from the staircase I reach out, grab one of them bolts sticking out of its neck and give it a good pull. The monster groans in pain and slaps at my arm. The skin on my arm goes red where his fingers and palm smack me. Hurts to hell and back, but I don't let go.

  I give the neck bolt a twist. The monster rolls off of my sister in agony. I see nothing but white scars on its naked chest.

  Susie, my sister, yelling now.

  "Goddammit, Stevie! What the hell are you doing? What the hell do you think you're doing?"

  She don't seem to care her boobs are falling out of her unbuttoned top. She's just a ball of mad, kicking her legs at me, trying to get some hurt in.

  “This ain't right, Susie," I say back, letting go of the bolt on the monster's neck so I can avoid her kicks.

  “The hell you know from right?" she screams out.

  The monster gets to his feet. He ain't looking too worse for the wear. But he ain't looking all that happy about having his neck bolt twisted neither.

  I pull a lighter out of my pocket and flick it at him. He gets the message and backs away. It’s a well-known fact that monsters got the fear of fire. He keeps backing away from me. Looking at me. Palms up. Grotesque fucking fingers open wide. Fingers that might've been...

  I fight back thinking of them fingers in Susie's crotch.

  "Stevie, you asshole," says Susie. She starts putting her clothes on again. Not out of modesty, but because she's all tangled up in them. Might even want to give me the boots if the monster doesn't do it first.

  The monster's making these sick sounds. No words. Just gurgling groans and shit. Trying to reason with me even though he ain't got a voice.

  Dumb fuck. Dumb fucking monster.

  I grab a newspaper out of the recycle pile and roll it up. Then I set it on fire and ram it at the monster. He bolts up the basement stairs and out the door onto the street in a flash. Flailing arms. Groaning in fear. I watch him run in the direction of his home, heading for the castle. Frankenstein's castle.

  I run up the basement stairs and lock the basement door before Susie reaches the top of the stairs. She bangs on the door and yells insults and threats at me. I ignore her and get on the telephone. Word spreads fast. A little over an hour later about eighty of us storm Frankenstein’s castle with torches, rakes and fists. We grab whatever can be used as a weapon.

  A good-sized mob with a head full of hate, off to kill a girlie-raping monster. Least that's what I told them happened. The monster raped my sister and all. Maybe that’s a little lie, all things considered, but I figure it’s one they all want to believe anyway. No one likes monsters. Can't trust them. They shouldn't be out on the street with us normal folk. And they sure as hell shouldn’t be lying with our women like real men.

  It ain't long before the castle is in flames.

  We watch.

  Nothing comes out of the castle except some sounds we can't place. Some screaming. Monster sounds.

  The fire trucks take a long time coming out and setting up. No one likes the monsters, like I said. Ain't too fond of Doctor Frankenstein, neither. The castle is a huge fireball by the time the firemen get around to spraying water on it. You could tell they were only making sure the fire didn't spread anywhere else.

  The police started making arrests then. Me and a bunch of other guys get thrown in the back of a van for inciting a riot or some such bullshit.

  On the way to the station the cop in the back with us says, "Don't worry, boys. You'll all be back home in a few hours. We had to make a few arrests for the TV cameras. You won't even see the inside of a jail cell."

  True to his word we were all released. No charges. Each of us got a pat on the back and a little wink as we were led outside through a backdoor to avoid the TV cameras. Who would've thought cops were actually good people?

  Some of the other guys wanted to get someone to bootleg some beer for us and head out to the drinking hole us teenagers go to get pissed. I tell them to go on without me, and I'll meet up with them later.

  I still got shit to settle at home.

  * * *

  I get home. Relieved that the parents are away for the weekend at some retreat for married couples. "Primal Marriage" counseling or some shit. The best I could figure they run around the woods naked and scream a lot. Fuck while sitting on a stump, maybe. Don’t know and don’t care.

  I ain't supposed to be alone in the house with Susie on account of some stuff that happened a few years ago, but with the medication and all the parents think I'm doing better. They’re trying to do what they figure is the right thing and show me some parental trust.

  Susie's sitting in the kitchen. I look and see the basement door knocked off its hinges and lying on the kitchen floor. When she wants to Susie can lay the boots to damn near anything. Except me. She don't ever lay the boots to me because she knows I ain't afraid of hitting back.

  "I hope you're fucking happy," she says.

  "Ain't right being with a monster like that," I say.

  "You don't understand."

  "What's to understand? He's a fuckin' freak."

  "And you're so much better? Hunh, Stevie?

  "I'm a human. A man. That makes me better.”

  "You're a boy," she says, standing up. Her voice getting to me. It ain't all that angry and I can't figure out why. She should be yelling at me, but she ain't. "A stupid, fucked up little boy. And I know you'll never know what it's like to be a man. Not a real man. Not one that understands what it means to be decent."

  I ain't here for a debate. I tune out what she's saying. Something else I got to do and while her mouth's flapping I figure now's the time.

  My first punch hits her just above her solar plexus. Too high. She looks stunned. I go lower with my fists, working them into the breadbasket. Susie curls up in defense. I kick her legs out from under her. Great shot. Right behind the kneecaps. She crumples backwards onto her head.

  I start kicking her stomach. Hard shots. I'm making sure they nail her between the hips. Right where the womb might be. The best I can remember from sex education and family planning.

  I got to make sure she don't have a monster baby growing in her. If that monster got her pregnant from all that fooling around they must have been doing then she's damn sure going to miscarry now.

  There's a noise. Sounds like it might've come from the basement stairs. All I remember then is white scar stitches. Just a blur of them in close-up. And a gurgling roar.

  Lot of blurry motion, and the next thing I know I'm looking at my body. It ain't got no head, but it's standing. Spitting red everywhere. Through the legs of
the kitchen table I see the goddamn monster that just punched my head clean off my shoulders kneeling by my sister.

  Just before I fade out for good I hear Susie say, "Get his head."

  * * *

  I've been in the dark a good long time.

  Never figured death would be all black. No noises. Nothing to see or feel. Just this fucking black. For what I've done I supposed I'd end up in Hell, but the best I can figure I'm nowhere.

  Maybe I'm some forgotten soul. Don't know.

  Don't know how much time passes either. Seems like a pretty long time to me. Months at least. But I can't be sure.

  After a time noises start up. Weird noises. Faint at first, but then they get louder. Louder ain't right. The noises get clearer. That's what I mean. Like someone setting the equalizer on a good stereo. Getting the settings just right or something.

  Ever see a movie where a robot gets damaged? Every time that happens the robot freaks out and starts talking weird talk. Words and beeps and shit. That's what I'm hearing now.

  Takes a while, but after what I figure is a few more months, I start hearing full sentences.

  "Test. This is a test. One, two, three, four."

  Stuff like that.

  I try to put together what it all means, but nothing comes to me right off. Never been dead before, so I ain't exactly sure what to expect. So far it's been pretty goddamn boring I can tell you that much.

  "Stevie?"

  The fuck...?

  "Stevie, I know you can hear me. Doctor Frankenstein says this, uh, audio interface thing works now. I can see your brainwaves reacting to my words. This is Susie."

  I got about a million words for you, bitch.

  "You can't talk back. This is a one-way deal. So, just sit back and listen to what I got to say."

  She seems to find that funny for some reason. Does this mean I'm not dead? Or is she talking to me in the after world or what?

  "Now, listen here, you bastard" she says. "You're probably wondering if you're dead or not. Well, you ain't dead, but you're not exactly alive either. All you are is a brain in a jar that Doctor Frankenstein has kept alive at my request. How you like that, Stevie? How you like that, fucker?"

  Susie...

  "At the flick of a switch you could be dead. I could do it right now if I had the mind to. But I don't. I want your brain alive. I want you alive, Stevie.

  "Remember that beating you gave me? I bet you do. I bet you think on it all the time. Probably feel some phantom hard-on when you think on it, too. Don't you?"

  She goes silent for a time. Wouldn't deny what she said even if I could. It was a good beating.

  "I was four months pregnant," she says, "when you started beating me. Hadn't told no one about it. Me and Frankie were gonna run away and have the baby. Then you burnt the castle down, tried to kill the Doctor and Frankie and beat on me. You fucked that plan up, Stevie. Fucked it up bad."

  I'd be smiling if I could. The world don't need no monster baby.

  "The beating you gave me didn't kill the baby. I never miscarried even though it looked like I was gonna. The Doctor took good care of me. I gave birth to him a month ago. He would have been healthy...he would have been a perfect baby boy if you hadn't beat me like you did.

  "Our baby is deformed and...brain dead, Stevie. A vegetable in a broken body. A brain and body you broke. In a few years the Doctor says the baby will be full-grown. The hormones are all messed up for some reason and the Doctor figures he'll finish puberty in a year and a bit. And then...then it's only a matter of time before he...before he...dies."

  I hear something I figure is crying.

  "You can't imagine the pain, Stevie. You can't. But I'm gonna make damn sure you do."

  Can't fool me, Susie. I almost finished grade twelve biology twice. I know the brain can't feel no pain because it ain't got no nerves. Do what you want, slut. I ain't gonna feel any of it. I'll float in the black. Maybe sing myself a song or two.

  "Just you wait, Stevie. You're gonna wish I didn't ask the Doctor to keep your brain alive. You're gonna wish I flicked the switch just now and killed you. You're gonna wish a lotta things and none of them are gonna come true. You're gonna suffer for the things you done. You got some time to think about that now."

  It goes quiet. Susie ain't saying no more.

  I go to thinking. Thinking here in the black.

  * * *

  I figured out a few things while sitting here in the black.

  One thing is the difference between love and hate. Way I got it figured, hate is killing because you want to and have the urge to make murder. Love is killing because you have to, because there ain’t no other choice.

  That might not get me into any textbooks or anything, but I figured it out all the same on my own. Not a bad piece of philosophy, if you ask me. As true as rain in dark clouds. Least, it has been in my experience.

  A while ago I started thinking on me and Susie. We're twins. What they call "fraternal twins". That don't happen too often. Makes us closer than other brothers and sisters.

  Everything was good between us until we were fifteen. Then Susie talks to some guidance counsellor asshole and nothing was the same again. Next thing I know me, Dad, Mom and Susie are talking to psychologists and shit. No one ever brought up the words "incest" or "rape" but that's what they were thinking. That’s what they were saying without saying it.

  I got given drugs and a lot of talking to. Telling me that what I wanted to do with Susie was wrong. Got to the point where I almost believed them. They just didn't get it no matter how I explained it. Yeah, Susie put up a fuss most times and I had to threaten her or beat a bit every now and again, but that was all part of our relationship.

  Them doctors and psychologists didn't see it that way. I got about six months more in a "juvenile rehabilitation centre" until I started telling them what they wanted to hear. Once I told them what they wanted to hear long enough they let me go home with some prescription that I just flushed down the toilet every night.

  Not that it mattered. Susie's door was always locked and her bedroom window had a bolt on it. Besides, I knew if I bothered her at all I'd be back in for "observation". I left well enough alone.

  At the weekly sessions with a psychologist I acted normal. Smiled lots when talking about school and girls that caught my eye. Even pretended to have a girlfriend for a short while.

  Don't feel like thinking on that no more.

  Floating in the black. Lots of time goes by.

  I start telling myself stories. Create this whole world in my head. Gets so I can start picturing parts of it and the people that live in the world. Takes a lot of concentration, but I ain't got nothing but time to do just that. Getting lost in my own mind.

  Then, one day, Susie's voice says out of nowhere, "Frankie Junior died this morning, Stevie. My baby is dead."

  That was all she said.

  I didn't think it was possible, but the black started getting blacker. Then there was nothing. Not even a thought. I figured she must've thrown the switch and shut my brain off.

  I floated. Floated deeper into the black.

  * * *

  Susie sits me in front of this huge mirror most times when she ain't got nothing to do with me.

  I guess it's supposed to make me think on how hideous and deformed I am. Make me feel regret or suicidal or something. Staring into the mirror. This ugliness staring back at me. At first it might've bothered me, but now it don't mean much to me at all.

  It's been a few years since Susie got Doctor Frankenstein to transplant my brain into the body of her and the monster's dead baby.

  Just like Susie said, this body is fucked right up. The head is all mangled and looks like it got smashed on one side by a truck. Most times I drool this green, snot-like saliva out of my mouth. It dries pretty fast, crusts up and flakes off in no time. I can't tell if the spine is twisted or what, but I can't move the arms or legs. Sometimes I can get a finger to twitch, but that's about it. All day and a
ll night long I sit in this wheelchair in a body I guess I accidentally made.

  Pretty amazing what a few kicks in the right place will do, if you ask me.

  Didn't damage many nerves at all. I still feel hunger, get headaches, twitchy legs from time to time and, yeah, I feel pain. I feel it whenever Susie wants me to feel it.

  There's what Susie calls "the sessions.”

  "I think Stevie needs a session," she'll say and then roll me to this room with the huge mirror.

  Me sitting in front of this mirror ain't a session. It's a "time out" according to Susie. When I'm supposed to sit here and think about what I've done, or some shit.

  I don’t think much of anything. I do what I did in the black. I tell myself stories to pass the time. I ain't about to sit here and piss and moan about the body I got or regret the past. Can't change neither, so why fucking bother?

  The sessions, though. They get pretty bad.

  The last session was about twelve hours ago and my foot is still numb and bleeding from where Susie was turning screws into it. Not completely sure whether she removed them all or not.

  She always does this alone. The fucking monster is never in the room while she's performing a session. Usually he comes in afterwards and cleans me up a bit. Stitches the cuts together and shit. Doctor Frankenstein used to do this, but he died last year, so the monster took up that chore.

  The monster ain't been back to clean me up yet. Dumb fuck. Just like a monster.

  Then again, the last session was the first time the monster did two things. It interrupted the session and it fucking spoke.

  "Nuh-no, Suh-susan," it said, through the open door of the session room. "Nuh-no more."

  Susie looked up from the floor at the monster and stopped doing whatever she was doing with the screwdriver. She didn't say a word. Did nothing for about a minute and just stared at the monster. Her face looked different. Like a Susie I didn't know. Like she was totally crazy or something. Quiet, but crazy all the same.

  "Puh-p-please," the monster said. "N-n-no more."