My Old Uncle S

   

“Kevvvvvin…” a hauntingly familiar whisper crawls into my ear. My body cranks itself upright - my eyes snap wide open and my heart’s racing as I stare into untrusted darkness. My eyes stream across the room. Silent and still. A nightmare? Must have been. There’s no way he’s coming back. Not after last time. Still, I check the closet, under the bed, and close the door before I lay back down, then I keep one eye open and try to hush my breathing so I’ll be able to hear even a single creaky floorboard �" just in case. I decide it’s safe. I close my eyes. I never want to hear that god forsaken voice again.

“P***y Face!” His voice pierces into me like a thousand needles to the eardrum, shoots me awake, alert, and into red fury. “What the hell do you want? No. No. No. Get the f**k out of here!”

              He flips the light switch and the sudden brightness hits me like a flashbang.  “Whoa-whoa-whoa! Pump the brakes, there Kev.” Kev? Is he f*****g serious? “Is that any way to talk to your uncle? I used to change your eternally damned diapers, god d****t.”

                “What the - no, you didn’t you prick. Get out. Get the f**k out and don’t come back.” 

                “Seriously? We’re gonna do this again? Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about Kaitlyn? Dude, that was like two months ago. It was a joke, my dude. Get over it!”

A joke? My heart starts pounding again. My fists clench. I want to jump from the bed right now and strangle his a*s to death. “You… got s**t-faced drunk. Then you turned my girlfriend into a mouse, turned Baxter into a snake, then made me watch my dog - excuse me, former dog, eat my former girlfriend.”

Hearing those ridiculous, horrific, but absolutely true words come out of my mouth ignites pure rage in me. My body rumbles - blood boils and burns like wildfire that spreads through my veins - through my very being. All I see is red - All I know and feel and think is hate, hate, hate, hate - for everyone, everything.

“That’s right…” my uncle says, his sardonic smile widening. “Let it out.”

God d****t! Not again. Fire begins to shoot from my body uncontrollably. My fingers become flamethrowers, my toes blowtorches - the walls ignite around me. One after the next the fire chews at the away them, biting through paint and plaster, eating wood, consuming my entire house and everything in it leaving only a pile of ash behind. The bed crumbles into rubble, and I crash to the dirt and ash where my floor had been with a painful thud.  

“Hahaha,” my uncle cackles, “P***y Face… You’re such a dipshit. You just burned your house down… again. Haha you f*****g moron. HAH! Let’s see if the insurance company’s gonna buy your story… again. Second time in under a year. HAHA. YOU F*****G DUMBASS! Hahahahahahahahahahaha… Hahahahahahahahahahaha …. Hahahahahahahahahahaha… Hahahahahahahahahahaha….”

For the… I don’t know, two hundredth or so time in my life - staring up at the stars where my ceiling had stood only thirty seconds earlier and listening to his raucous laughter that I’m sure will continue for the next few hours and echo in my ears in for eternity, I’m reminded of the horrible reality that when your uncle is Satan, The Dark Lord himself, s**t like this is bound to happen.