The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S11E04

Episode Date: June 24, 2018

It's episode 04 of Season 11. On this week's show we have five tales about fellows, both friendly and fiendish. "Mimicry"† written by S.H. Cooper and performed by Nichole Goodnight & Dan Zappulla & Jessica McEvoy. (Story starts around 00:04:30) "Mister Clacky-Teeth"‡ written by Lindsay Moore and performed by Jessica McEvoy & Addison Peacock & Armen Taylor & Kyle Akers & Nikolle Doolin & Dan Zappulla & Erika Sanderson & Atticus Jackson. (Story starts around 00:18:00) "Robert's Repairs"¤ written by René Rehn and performed by Kyle Akers & Peter Lewis & Nikolle Doolin & Nichole Goodnight. (Story starts around 01:01:00) "Tap"† written by Henry Galley and performed by Corinne Sanders & Nikolle Doolin & Mick Wingert. (Story starts around 01:20:30) "Edgar Falls Run"† written by K.M Bennett and performed by Nikolle Doolin & Erin Lillis & Nichole Goodnight & Addison Peacock & Mary Murphy & Mick Wingert & Peter Lewis & Graham Rowat & Jessica McEvoy. (Story starts around 01:43:00) Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast   Click here to learn more about S.H. Cooper   Click here to learn more about Lindsay Moore   Click here to learn more about René Rehn   Click here to learn more about Henry Galley   Click here to learn more about K.M Bennett   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone Audio adaptations produced by: Phil Michalski† & Jeff Clement‡ & Jesse Cornett¤ "Mister Clacky-Teeth" illustration courtesy of Jörn Heidrath Audio program ©2018 - Creative Reason Media Inc. - All Rights Reserved - No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors.   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This audio program presents horror which is frightening and disturbing. You left us into your mind at your own risk. The sunlight fades to darkness. The frightful tales creep into your mind. It's time to give you to fear because tonight there will be... Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. It's the No Sleep Podcast. I'm David Cummings. Thanks for joining us. On the show this week, we have five tales about fellows, both friendly and fiendish.

Before we jump into this week's stories, I want to tell you a bit about next week's show. It's a rather unique episode in which we'll celebrate horror stories from authors who are a valued part of our community. But before I do that, I want to address an issue which a small number of listeners have voiced concerns about. It has to do with our stories with same-sex couples. For reasons which I find hard to fathom in 2018, there are some people who take offense if a story features people from the LGBTQ community. No matter if the character's sexuality has nothing to do with the plot itself. Some feel we're trying to make a political statement by including characters who represent a real group of people in our society. Of the hundreds of stories we adapt for audio each year,

only a tiny fraction of them feature LGBTQ characters, a percentage much smaller than the percentage of LGBTQ people in our society. If anything, I need to be chided for under-representing that community. So I'd like to make this perfectly clear to all our listeners. The No Sleep Team and Extended Family is made up of many wonderful and talented members of the LGBT community. As a straight man, I am honored to work alongside them. and call them friends. The No Sleep Podcast embraces the LGBT community

as creators, performers, and characters. Our team, our stories, and everything about the show will continue to ensure a creative space for anyone who shares a love of the horror genre. It is not political to include in our creative team a group of people who have been marginalized for far too long. I've been informed by some listeners that they will stop listening to this podcast if we continue to include stories of this type,

I refuse to be intimidated by those threats. Our society these days is saturated with hate-filled speech, division, rancor, and outright attacks on people who others deem to be merely different. As the creator of this podcast, the one who is ultimately responsible for what we release each week, I will continue to ensure that all members of our society are represented. Frankly, it's worth risking the loss of some listeners rather than condone begatry and homophobia. And with that being said, I want to share how we're going to celebrate Pride Month on next week's show.

On episode 5, we'll feature stories by authors from the LGBTQ community. The stories are horror stories, plain and simple. Some will include LGBTQ characters, some won't. All we want to do is show kids. stories which come from the unique perspective of that community. And I am proud to know that the vast majority of our listeners will embrace and enjoy that show. But enough about next week, it's time for this week's show. The tape is in the machine.

The stories are ready. So let's press play. In our first tale, we meet a woman who has inherited a new pet bird to enjoy. But according to author S.H. Cooper, the enjoyment is short-lived due to the parrot's strange speech pattern. When it starts making disturbing noises, the woman has to figure out where the bird is learning them. Performing this tale are Nicole Goodnight, Dan Zippula, and Jessica McAvoy. So let's learn about how birds have a remarkable ability for mimicry.

I was worried when I first inherited Claudette that she would be lonely and depressed. I knew parrots were supposed to be social creatures, but I was barely equipped to handle one, much less get her companion. Aunt June, who had generously given the bird to me after discovering how loud and energetic she could be, assured me that Claudette was an independent sort and would be fine on her own. Claudette and I had a rocky start. I was timid around her large beak and sharp claws, and she was slow to trust yet another new person. She'd apparently had a number of homes in her 25 years, all of whom who had given her up much the same as Aunt June had.

That was mostly why I kept her. I felt sorry for her and wanted her to finally have a home, even if it meant a steep learning curve. We had what felt like a very long period of adjustment, during which I learned that getting bitten, well, painful, could have been much worse, and she started to at least recognize me as the hand that fed her. When I discovered she was the happiest in my small screened-in porch, I moved her cage there

and gave her free run of it, which also improved our relationship. It took a lot of time, patience, and treats, but eventually it got to the point that she would fly over to me whenever I went out and sit on my arm while she inhaled,

whatever I brought her. If I had been worried about her getting lonely while I was away, those concerns were quickly banished when I realized she was making fast friends with the mockingbirds who nested in a tree behind my apartment. They'd trade calls and squawk at each other throughout the day, which sometimes got me in a little trouble with my more noise-sensitive neighbors,

but that wasn't anything a few homemade cookies and apology cards couldn't smooth over. I never considered getting a parrot before, but Claudette proved to be a sweet, smart girl. Once she got past her initial orneriness, and I learned she had a fairly extensive and sometimes colorful, vocabulary, and was an excellent little mimic. I also found out that over the course of a few months while I was at work, she'd apparently been teaching the mockingbirds a thing or two. I was sitting on the porch one evening, giving cloud at a little neck scratch before going in to

make dinner when I heard a soft but very distinct voice coming from somewhere overhead. I jumped, not having seen or heard anyone approach, and looked around, but my little corner of the apartment complex was quiet, and no one was outside. In my lap, Claudette started to bob her head, her feathers ruffling ever so slightly. She and the voice went back and forth a few more times, enthusiastically shouting one of her favorite words, until I rushed her inside an embarrassment and to keep whoever was taunting her from going any further. It wasn't until I saw one of her mockingbird friends swooped by the porch a few times, obviously in search of Claudette, that I realized the voice I'd been hearing,

had it been someone encouraging her naughty behavior, it had been the mockingbirds mimicking her. Claudette had taught the wild birds to swear. It was going to take a lot more cookies to get back on my neighbor's good side when they figured that one out. Instead of moving Claudette inside, I decided to try and encourage her to use sweeter phrases that I hope the mockingbirds would pick up on. Hello. I said this over and over again.

Shit indeed. I hadn't even known mockingbirds could talk, much less how to get them to pick up new words, so I scoured the internet and asked around, hoping for some insight. They just repeat what they hear often, one bird enthusiast replied when I left a comment on a forum. Well, they'll pick up something else soon. A mocking bird near me constantly called my dogs for ages until it picked up a new bird song. Good luck. Okay, I told myself I could wait them out.

In the meantime, I kept working. working with Claudette to clean up her own language and spent a bit of time every night, repeating words to her and rewarding her when she got them right. It took a few more weeks and months, but the swearing was definitely on a decline, and I hadn't heard the mockingbirds repeating her anymore, so as counting it a victory. One morning, when I went out to feed her before I left for work, she bobbed and paced along her rung with her usual enthusiasm, but I noticed she was making these odd, raspy noises.

Like, she couldn't quite catch her breath. I took her up on my arm and gave her a quick once over while stroking her back. You okay? I asked. The odd breathing stopped. I waited for a little while, almost enough time to make me late, but she seemed fine and rushed out to get to work. The next morning, however, the low, rasping noises were back. She again came over to me and fluffed and bobbed all while making the same ragged breathing sounds.

outside the mockingbirds were responding with unusual clicking noises. I didn't pay much attention to them. Too concerned for my poor parrot. Unable to leave her again when she was in such an obvious state of distress, I called my boss to let her know I'd had a family emergency and hurried Claudette to the nearby vet. I told them in a quavering voice that I was sure she had some kind of serious illness and explained to the doctor that she was having trouble breathing,

and they ushered me into a room to wait for the same. the doctor. When he came in, I again told him about the sounds and begged him to listen to Claudette. She was sitting in her travel cage, pruning quietly, completely undisturbed by the fact that her life was hanging in the balance. I swear, she sounded horrible yesterday and today. Sometimes these things come and go. Can you do me a favor? I imitate the sound she was making. I quickly did as he asked, hoping I'd be accurate enough for him to understand the severity of the situation. And immediately, Claudette started to do that. to mimic me. Dr. Graham hit a small smile behind his hand before catching himself becoming serious again.

She's fine, Stacy. It seems she may have overheard you during some nighttime activities and is just repeating those sounds. What? I think she's heard you with a partner, you know, during intimate moments. Claudette emphasized a statement with an unmistakable little known. With my face burning a bright red, I packed up my bird, mumbled an apology, and thanked him, and practically ran out of the office. You've been listening to the neighbors, or has someone been playing their TV too loud? How did you learn to make those noises? It certainly hadn't been from me, that much I knew. Whatever it was, it must have been going on for a while if she was starting to mimic it.

I couldn't just go around asking my neighbors if they were getting down and dirty with the windows open, so for now I'd just try to have to keep a closer eye on what she was getting exposed to. When I released her back onto the porch, Claudette squawked a chorus of helloes to the mockingbird, who sang back and then settled on top of her cage for a nap in the sun. I sat on the porch with Claudette for a good portion of the day, but didn't hear anything particularly telling, and eventually gave up when it became uncomfortably warm outside. I still poked my head out an occasion, but the most unusual thing I heard was the mockingbirds making their newly picked up clicking sound.

While it was familiar, I couldn't quite place where I'd heard it before and dismissed it. Claudette's heavy breathing sounds started to become a more frequent part of our morning, along with the occasional moan. And every so often, she'd mumbled her herself. Pretty, pretty, pretty. Well, at least that was an improvement on shit. She and the mockingbirds continued their back and forth, and I got used to their clicking noises the same way I had their swearing. It was especially bad in the morning when Claudette was doing what I came to call her breathing exercises. Rinse and repeat until midday.

I just had to wait it out, and they'd eventually move on to some new sound to try and drive me crazy with. But the more I heard it, the more I realize that there was something about the click, which was becoming more refined and distinct every day that kept nagging at me. I knew the sound and given a bit more time, I was sure I could pinpoint exactly what they were imitating. But it continued to allude me. How's Claudette doing? My sister asked after her while we drank wine and had our weekly Thursday night phone call.

I was sitting in my living room in my pajamas, little more than a tank top and a pair of shorts that were too small to wear out in public, with my phone in one hand in my glass and the other. I'd left my sliding glass door leading out to the porch open just wide enough for Claudette to waddle inside if she wanted to join me. She's fine. Still doing that nasty breathing thing. You figure out who's taught it to her?

I'm leaning towards the Johnsons. They've always struck me as the exhibitionist types. Yeah, and they need some love and do. While we laughed, I heard a series of very soft clicks through the opened door. Oh, oh, the mockingbirds are doing the thing I told you about. Maybe you can hear them and tell me what this damn noise is. I sprang up from my couch and crossed the living room to yank back the sheer curtain

hanging across the slider. The clicking noise stopped immediately. Beside me, Claudite paced back and forth across her cage top, mumbling all the while. Pretty, pretty, pretty. A bush on the other side of the screen shook just slightly. The light from inside my apartment reflected off the porch screen, making it difficult to see outside, and I froze. I can't hear them. Stacy?

The bushes rattled again. Claudette started to make the shuddering, raspy breathing sounds. From the trees overhead, the mockingbirds responded with their clicks. I now recognize the sound with sudden, chilling clarity. Raina, I think someone's in my bushes. As soon as the words left my mouth, a dark figure sprang upright and was making a mad dash around the side of the apartment building. It happened so quickly that I couldn't make out much, no features, nothing significant. Just dark clothes and maybe a hat, and then he was gone.

Raina was asking me in a near panic if she should call the police while I was too stunned to answer. It had taken months for me to teach Claudette words. Months for her to pick up new sounds. months for her to learn to mimic accurately. No doubt it would have taken the same amount of time listening to someone breathing heavily and moaning to repeat the sounds accurately. My stomach dropped, fast and far,

and I thought I might vomit. She hadn't learned those sounds from noisy neighbors or a television show. She'd learned it from a man who'd been hiding outside my apartment, panting like a dog while he watched me. I stumbled back against the slider and scrambled to get inside again.

Over my shoulder, one of the mockingbirds called out into the night from a treetop. The perfect imitation of a camera shutter. It's not uncommon for adults to continue to enjoy their childhood stuffed animals, right? Just ask author Lindsay Moore. She shares the tale about a rather peculiar stuffed toy, which is creepy for many reasons, let alone it's smile. Performing this tale are Jessica McAvoy, Addison Peacock, Norman Taylor, Kyle Akers, Nicole Doolin, Dan Zapula, Erica Sanderson, and Atticus Jackson. So brush up on your listening skills. It's time to meet Mr. Clacky Teeth.

I met Holly on the first day of my freshman year of college. She had arrived a few hours before me and had claimed her side of the room already. I entered our shared room and was greeted by a short, scrawny girl standing. on a chair to hang a poster above her bed. She turned and looked at me, tossing her reddish-brown pigtails and grinned, showing off a mouth full of straight white teeth. Hi! She bounced down off the chair and strolled over to me.

Her hand held out. I'm Holly. You must be Jacqueline. I shook her hand. Good to meet you. Holly clambered back up onto the chair and slapped a strip of cleft. tape on the corner of the poster. It was a brightly colored print featuring several rabbits

hopping through a field of wildflowers. The rabbits were various shades of pink, purple, and turquoise, reminding me of the Lisa Frank stickers that I had obsessively collected when I was younger. Holly and I chatted as we unpacked. She was from California and was studying theater. I know it sounds nerdy, but I'm actually really excited. excited for my first class. My high school didn't have much of a theater program, so I can't wait to get on that stage. It's not nerdy at all. I'm kind of looking forward to my first classes, too. What's your major? I don't have one yet. I'm undecided. But my first class on Monday is sociology, so that might be cool. Initially, I hadn't been embarrassed about packing Mitzie, but now that I was actually unpacking,

I felt uneasy about taking her out of my backpack and putting her on the bed. Mitzie is a stuffed animal, a fox, to be exact. I'd had her since the day I was born, and it showed. I've never thought of her as being ratty, but before going off to college, I washed her and repaired her as best I could. trying to make her look a little less worn and frayed. Mitzi was once a bright orange-red, but multiple washes and excessive snuggles had dulled her fur considerably.

Her little white paws were a grayish color. There was no way I'd ever consider bleaching them, though. Something as harsh as bleach might damage her already delicate faux fur. Her black button eyes had been replaced at least a dozen times, but they were always shiny and comforting. I took Mitsy out of my backpack and set her down on the bed, half hoping that Holly wouldn't notice her. Holly had her back to me and was rearranging her bedspread,

which was dark blue with white rabbits on it. The second she turned around, though, she saw Mitzie and her eyes lit up. Who's this? She leaned over to peer at Mitzie, cooing excitedly and acting excitedly, and acting as if I'd smuggled a live kitten into the room instead of an ancient plush toy.

Oh, that's Mitzie. My cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. All of my friends had outgrown their stuffed animals, dolls, and security blankets, but I'd never been able to part with Mitzie. My closer friends liked to tease me a little about her. It was always good-natured, nothing malicious, but it stung a little to be considered the baby of the group,

simply because I still had a stuffed animal. She's so cute. She can be friends with Mr. Clacky Teeth. Before I could ask who Mr. Clacky Teeth was, Holly pulled a wooden box out from under her bed and flung it open. The box was lined with plush pink velvet. Nestled amid frilly cushions was a stuffed bunny rabbit. Unlike Mitzi, it was in perfect condition, looking like it had come straight out of the toy store.

It was pale pink with long, floppy ears and blue button eyes. Holly lifted it out of the box, picking it up and cradling it like a baby in her arms. This is Mr. Clacky Teeth. She slid one hand behind the bunny, and it seemed to twitch in her arms. Its mouth opened in a huge, lopsided smile. Hi, Jacqueline. Hi, Mitzy. I'm Mr. Clacky Teeth. Holly's voice was distorted, pitched into a lower tone that sounded playful and cartoony.

Her own mouth never moved, though. She grinned, showing off her pearly white teeth. Wow, how'd you do that? Holly laughed. I was like totally obsessed with lamb chop when I was little, so I taught myself ventriloquism. She held the bunny out, showing me the hole in the back of his head where her hand had gone. That's so cool. Thanks, Jacqueline. I hope we can be good buddies.

Holly spoke through Mr. Clacky Teeth again, opening his mouth wide enough to reveal a pink felt tongue. Why is he called Mr. Clacky Teeth? I was surprised that the puppet didn't have any teeth. Oh, silly me. Holly laughed and turned to the stuffed bunny in her arms. Did I forget your dentures again, Mr. Clacky Teeth? You always forget my dentures, Holly. I had initially been somewhat relieved to see Mr. Clacky Teeth

because it meant that I wasn't a complete and total baby for bringing along Mitzi. But there was something unsettling. about seeing Holly talking to Mr. Clacky Teeth and having him talk to me. It felt surreal, like something that was happening in a dream. Holly's enthusiasm and bounciness was causing whatever cuteness I'd initially found in Mr. Clacky Teeth to wear thin. It was wavering somewhere between tedious and creepy. Holly set Mr. Clacky Teeth down on the bed and bent over the wooden box. again. Mr. Clacky Teeth and I are working on an act. She pulled a red and white item out of the box

and popped it into Mr. Clacky Teeth's mouth. She picked up the bunny puppet again, nestling it in her arms. The thing that Holly had placed into Mr. Clacky Teeth's mouth looked a lot like those wind-up chattering teeth you see in novelty joke shops. The plastic red gums were slick and shiny, but instead of containing a neat row of white plastic teeth, it contained a hodgepodge of white nubs poking out at odd angles. The whole effect was jarring and weird, even more unsettling than having Holly use Mr. Clacky Teeth to talk to me. Ain't that right, Mr. Clacky Teeth? We've got an act.

That's right, Holly. We have one heck of an act. We're still working on it. Holly leaned over and stage whispered to me, as if we were talking in front of an actual living thing instead of a pink stuffed rabbit. She glanced down at Mr. Clacky Teeth. We can give you a little preview, though. Before I could tell her that I didn't want to see her act, she began to move her hand inside Mr. Clacky Teeth's head, moving the jaw up and down to make the plastic teeth click together. The teeth clicked and snapped rhythmically, like castanets.

Hi, everybody. I'm Holly, and I'd like to sing you a song. Holly began to sing, warbling off key in a high, lelting voice. This is my friend, Mr. Clacky Teeth. He clicks and clocks and jibbers and jabs and jabs, and he's my very best friend. His clicky-clucky teeth are like a little drum set, and he's all so cute as a bud. She paused and laughed. I need to work on the lyrics, obviously. What do you think? I forced a smile and a laugh.

He's super cute. And you're like amazing. I mean, your mouth doesn't move at all. It's totally convincing. Holly blushed, her cheeks turning bright pink. Thanks. Much to my relief. She set Mr. Clacky Teeth down on the bed and took his little plastic dentures out.

That's enough, Mr. Clacky Teeth. I felt a strange sense of relief when she tucked Mr. Clacky Teeth back into the wooden box and slid it back under her bed. I'm starving. You want to go grab a sandwich or something? I followed Holly out of our room, and we made our way across campus towards the dining hall. By the time we had reached it, we were laughing and talking. and I had forgotten how uneasy Mr. Clacky Teeth had made me feel. When we got back to our room, we listened to music while I finished unpacking. My aunt had given me her old lava lamp when I graduated from high school.

Its metal base was once covered with brilliant yellow smiley faces. They had faded to a lighter, more pastel-looking color over time. The thing was ancient, and I hadn't even tried plugging it in. The cord was frayed. The protective rubber casing peeled back in places, exposing old wires. I had this in my dorm room back when I was a student. My aunt had beamed as I unwrapped it. I doubt it still works, but it looks so cute on your nightstand.

It'll add a fun retro vibe to your room. I figured that I'd be allowed to keep it as long as I never play. plugged it in. I had been thinking of removing the cord and turning it into a succulent holder or something, but hadn't gotten around to it. I set the lava lamp down on the shelf above my bed, carefully wrapping the cord up around its base. Classes began, and within a few weeks, Holly and I found ourselves in different social circles. She spent most of her time hanging out with other drama students. I found my own set of friends. Holly and I didn't exactly drift apart, but we weren't super close either.

If anything, she was easy to live with. She was friendly and vivacious, but she was quiet in the evenings when I wanted to study. We liked a lot of the same movies and TV shows, and we'd often chill in the lounge with our fellow dorm mates, watching trashy reality TV to unwind after classes. We hung out and ate meals together. I helped her learn lines for her drama classes, and she helped me memorize the periodic table for an upcoming biology test. As we were gearing up for winter break, I decided to major in business.

It felt like a good fit for me. By that point, Holly was spending more and more time with her new theater friends. She would drag herself out of bed early on Saturdays and Sundays, carrying Mr. Clacky Teeth's wooden box under her arm. She rarely took him out of the box when she was in the room with me. He's not really a toy. He's a prop for my act. I need to keep him in mint condition.

Besides, it's a little weird to practice in front of an audience. I had assumed that she was practicing in front of her theater friends, but didn't bother mentioning it. After dealing with the rigmarole of finals and filling out all of the paperwork needed to declare my major,

I was more than ready for a brief vacation, and my roommate's ventriloquism puppet was the furthest thing from my mind. Holly and I went our separate ways for winter break. She got to return to sunny California while I was stuck with my family in the frigid Midwest. In addition to celebrating Christmas with my family, I took the opportunity to schedule several necessary appointments.

After receiving a clean bill of health from my doctor and a spiffy new haircut, I reluctantly went to the dentist. Your teeth look good, but your wisdom teeth are going to have to come out. I think he sensed my worry, because he smiled at me. Don't worry. It's a simple procedure and doesn't need to happen right away. I'll put you in touch with an oral surgeon. The oral surgeon glanced at my x-rays and told me that my teeth could wait until summer to come out. You're actually pretty lucky.

Three of your wisdom teeth are growing perfectly straight. It'll be easy to remove them. She tapped the X-ray, pointing to a white blob in my lower jaw. This little fellow's a bit crooked. I'll have to break it apart in order to remove it, but that's nothing serious. It's actually a pretty standard operation. The prospect of oral surgery wasn't exactly thrilling,

but at least I didn't have to undergo it until summer. Winter break ended all too quickly, and I headed back to campus. I got back to the room shortly after Holly did. How was your break? I shrugged. It was average. I had babysat for my cousins and went to the dentist. Did you do anything fun? Holly grimaced. Ugh, I hate going to the dentist. Did you get a tooth pulled or something? I shook my head. No, it was a regular checkup. The dentist took some x-rays and said I need to have my wisdom teeth pulled this summer.

That's not so bad. I had mine out last year. It's a really easy operation. They put you out, and when you wake up, you get ice cream. She rummaged around in her backpack. Hey, the drama club is putting on a show at the Astro Tour this Saturday. You want to come? What's the Astro Tour?

It's a coffee shop in town. Holly handed me the flyer. The words, Greatest little show on planet Earth were typed across the top in large, blocky letters. Beneath it was a cartoon drawing of an astronaut. A word balloon coming out of his mouth proclaimed, singing, dancing, poetry slam, ventriloquism,

Super fun for all. Yeah, I'd love to come. Are you performing with Mr. Clacky Teeth? Holly nodded eagerly. I finally got my act just perfect. I'd give you a preview, but I don't want to spoil the surprise. She grinned impishly, winking as she continued unpacking. On Saturday night, I walked with Holly to the Astro Tour Cafe.

She carried Mr. Clacky Teeth in his wooden box. staggering under its unwieldy size. Do you want some help carrying that? Holly shook her head. No thanks. Besides, we're almost there. She pointed to a short squat building nestled between two larger ones. The Astro Tour was larger than it looked from the outside. In spite of its small, almost hobbit-sized front door, it was huge.

Its high arching ceilings were midnight blue And were painted with planets in psychedelic colors The drinks were overpriced And had punny space-themed names like Milky Way Moka and Light Year Latte There was a large stage against one wall Complete with curtains, a microphone, and an upright piano This place is so cool

Holly beamed They have regular poetry slams, readings, and talent nights. I've got to go prepare for my act. I wished her luck, then bought myself a Titan tea, which turned out to be overpriced, watery Earl Grey, before finding a seat. The acts ranged from mediocre to decent, but Hollies was far and away the best.

After listening to some angsty poetry, a bad cover of Lady Gaga's bad romance, an excerpt from a self-published trash romance novel, an off-key acapella share medley, and some cringy stand-up comedy, Holly and Mr. Clacky Teeth took the stage. Hi, everybody. I'm Holly, and this is my friend, Mr. Clacky Teeth. Holly beamed proudly at the audience. Mr. Clacky Teeth, aren't you going to greet your adoring public? Mr. Clacky Teeth responded with a loud snoring sound. Mr. Clacky Teeth, wake up!

The bunny puppet jerked clumsily in Holly's arms, as if waking from a deep slumber. Sorry, folks, I'm too tired to perform. Holly turned his head so that he was looking up at her. Someone keeps my case under her bed. What's wrong with that? Nothing. I just wish you wouldn't rock it so much when you invite boys over. The audience laughed. Mr. Clacky Teeth.

Holly admonished him playfully. I'm not saying Holly gets around, but if her feet were ever on the floor instead of in the air, we could put wheels on them. Holly's act was actually pretty funny. It felt a little weird to hear her making raunchy jokes about her sex life, especially because, as far as I knew, it was non-existent. But her good-natured self-deprecation was refreshing after the previous acts. Now, Mr. Clacky Teeth, before we go, you should live up to your name.

She pulled the little red and white dentures out of Mr. Clacky Teeth's box and popped them into his mouth. I never let him wear these when we're not performing. Otherwise, I'd be picking bits of carrot out of them. At least I eat healthy. Holly tilted his head, making him look her up and down in an exaggerated fashion. What's between your bowlers? Do-nuts? Holly rolled her eyes. Are we going to sing for these nice people or not?

She started flapping Mr. Clacky Teeth's jaw, using his hodgepodge of false teeth as makeshift castanets. Oh, Mr. Clacky Teeth and I have been friends since I was small. After I taught him how to talk, we really had a ball. We've had such fun with you tonight. We love to make you laugh. Meet us after the show's all done, and you'll get... The audience applauded. I joined in, impressed with Holly's skill as a ventriloquist,

and how funny her act had been. The singing at the end was still a little weird, especially because Holly couldn't carry a tune to save her life. But she was still funnier than anyone else who had performed at the Astro Tour that evening. After Holly took her bows and left the stage, a group of girls wearing severe-looking eyeliner marched up to the microphone and began a weird spoken word remix of Lewis Carroll's The Jabberwocky. I leaned back in my seat, watching them and wondering when I could make a polite exit.

Hey! Holly appeared at my elbow, holding two steaming mugs. I'm so glad you came to the show. She sat down across from me and set one of the mugs down in front of me. You were great. I ignored the stink eye I was getting from one of the girls on stage. Thanks. Holly slid the mug closer to me.

I got you a comet cider. It's hot cider with the littlest splash of rum. They serve alcohol here? Holly winked. They do if you know the barista. She glanced over at the man behind the counter and blew him a kiss. He smiled broadly at her. Ooh, he's cute.

I took a sip of the cider. It was warm and sweet, perfectly spiced. I could barely taste the rum. Holly sighed. His boyfriend's cuter. I continued to sip my cider. So, who are those girls? I nodded at the stage.

Holly rolled her eyes. They're English majors. This is an extra. credit assignment to them. I brought the mug up to my lips, only to be jostled from behind. The cider slashed out onto the table, slopping across the worn wood surface. I sighed heavily as I set my cup down. I am so sorry.

The boy behind me was trying to hold four steaming cups of coffee at once. He had bumped the back of my chair with his hip. I didn't mean to spill your drink. It's okay. Across from me, Holly looked crestfallen, as if her drink had been spilled instead of mine. Oh, I'll buy you another one. The boy struggled to maneuver between tables and chairs in order to get to his waiting friends. I was about to tell him not to bother, but thought better of it.

The girls on stage were glowering at the audience. Clearly, they'd noticed me whispering, and weren't. Too happy about it. I leaned back in my chair. Here is where I lose a big chunk of time. I don't remember walking back to my dorm room with Holly or into bed. I don't remember whether or not the boy who'd spilled my drink ever made good on his offer to get me another one.

I do remember waking up, though. The next thing I was aware of was a heavy weight. resting on my chest. I groaned, struggling to lift my head. It felt like my brain had been replaced with cement. My thoughts were fuzzy and incoherent, and part of me desperately just wanted to go back to sleep. I couldn't move, couldn't raise my head up to look around. A dim shadow was sitting on top of my chest. I felt a pair of hands touching my face. fingertips stroking my cheek tenderly. My head throbbed and my mind swirled as I struggled to comprehend what was happening to me

and why I couldn't move. Sh-sh, what? She pressed her fingers over my mouth, forcefully closing my lips down over my teeth. Holly's face swam above me, her features fading in and out of focus. go to sleep. I felt Holly's fingers hooking around my lower lip, slipping into my mouth.

I tried to turn my hat, but my neck felt limp and refused to move. Holly gently pried my mouth open. I felt her running her fingers along my teeth, tasted something bitter and rubbery. Was she wearing gloves?

I shifted, it, trying to turn my head to see who else was in the room with us. The voice was low-pitched and cartoony. It took me far too long to realize that it was the voice Holly always did for Mr. Clacky teeth. I turned my head, using every ounce of energy I could muster to pull free from Holly's hands. Mr. Clacky Teeth was sitting on the edge of Holly's bed, facing us. His round pink body seemed to pulsate as if he was breathing heavily.

I squinted at him, trying to figure out what was going on. Shhh! Holly made another shushing sound as she turned my head away from Mr. Clacky Teeth. I looked up at her, realizing for the first time that she was sitting on me. Her knees were on either side of my arms, pinning them down. It felt like she placed a pile of bricks on top of me. I could hardly breathe. I'm only going to take your wisdom, teeth. I need them.

Her words didn't make any sense to me at the time. It was like she was speaking a foreign language underwater. I stared up at her, trying to process what she had just told me. She reached for something on the shelf above my bed. It was thin. and shiny, glittering in the light. I blinked rapidly, willing the thing in her hands to come into focus. Just go back to sleep.

She stuck her fingers in my mouth again, pulling my jaw open. She held up the object with shaking hands. For a brief second, it snapped into focus, and I tried to scream. The sound was muffled. by Holly's hand. She lowered the penknife, bringing it closer to my mouth. I squirmed feebly, my limbs responding sluggishly to my brain's panicked commands. Holly's sweaty face swam in and out of focus as the knife dipped out of sight.

I tasted the blood before I felt the pain from the knife in my lower gums. I tried to scream, but the blood. was running down my throat. I gagged, trying to spit it out. I twisted and writhed, trying in vain to move my head so I could spit the blood out. I could feel it running down my cheeks and chin, seeping into the pillow beneath my head. It filled my mouth and flowed it on my throat. I managed to swallow, narrowly avoiding choking on it. Pain flooded the lower half of my face. I tried screaming again. Hell, I don't think I ever stopped screaming,

but all that came out was a thick, wet, gurgling sound. I felt Holly's fingers clumsily prodding at my back teeth, felt her shoving the knife into my gums. The knife's blade was dull, obviously not intended for surgery, amateur or otherwise. Holly pressed down hard, forcing it into my flesh.

I'm sorry, I've never done this before. I'm so sorry. She wiped out my chin with one hand. The blue latex glove she was wearing came away smeared with bright red blood. Stop moving! She's choking, you dumbass. Through my own pain, I could hear Mr. Clacky Teeth's voice again. Put her on her side so she could spit the blood out.

I felt the pressure on my chest release as Holly scrambled off of me. I flailed my arms, trying to get myself off the bed. My limbs refused to cooperate. My legs jerked awkwardly, as if my joints had been replaced with jelly. Holly shoved me onto my side so hard I nearly fell off the bed. I stared down at the carpet, watching as the blood spilled from my mouth and onto the floor. This isn't working. I can't find her wisdom deep. There's too much blood in the way. You need more light.

Holly jumped up and started switching on lights. I managed to lift my head. The door was so close. I had to get to it. I had to get myself into the hall. Out in the hall, someone could see me and help me. I had to get out of this room. and away from my roommate and her creepy stuffed bunny. I pushed myself off the bed, landing hard on the floor. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a hoarse, wet gurgle.

Blood and saliva poured from my mouth, running down my chin and onto my chest. I reached for the door, my trembling hands grasping at empty air. The door was only ten feet away, maybe last. but it felt impossibly far away. It shimmied and wavered, fading in and out of focus as darkness threatened to overtake me. I never saw Holly plug in my old lava lamp and switch it on. I was trying to crawl across the floor when she crouched beside me and shoved me onto my back. I swatted at her as she climbed on top of me again. She straddled my chest, her knees to pin my arms down.

I just need your wisdom teeth. Holly raised the knife again. You aren't going to need them. You're not even using them. I felt the knife in my mouth again. It slashed frantically, lacerating my gums and clipping my teeth, slicing the inside of my cheeks.

Fresh waves of pain shot through my mouth and chin. It felt like my flesh was on fire, like Holly was trying to rip my jaw off. The room pulsed around me, growing unbearably warm as blood filled my mouth and began to run down my throat again. I gagged and sputtered, trying to cough it up. Holly's fingers were blocking the way. I began to choke on my own blood. Dark spots appeared at the edges of my vision. And Holly swam in and out of focus.

I couldn't fight the darkness anymore. My eyes slid shut. Mercifully, the pain faded along with the rest of the world. I was awakened by the sound of an alarm blaring. My ears rang, but I couldn't move my arms to cover them. Holly wasn't sitting on me anymore. My head had been turned and I was lying on my side. The carpet beneath my face was soaked and sticky with blood.

I didn't know where Holly was, just that she was no longer on top of me. I wasn't even sure if she was in the room. I tasted blood and metal, felt great gaping gashes on the inside of my mouth. Water pelted my body, soaking me immediately. Something was orange and flickering at the corner of my mouth. vision. I struggled to lift my head to look at it. I was facing my bed. My purple bed spread was gone, replaced by dancing orange flames. I stared at it, too baffled and in too much pain to register anything. The floor beneath me seemed to vibrate. I tried to force myself up, to pull myself to

my feet, but my body had gone numb. I managed to turn my head in time to see the door bang open. The figure standing there took up the entire door frame, his huge, hulking form towering over me. For God! The man's voice was distorted, as if he was shouting at me from very far away. I felt blood spill from my mouth as I opened it. I tried to call out. to ask him for help. But all that escaped my mutilated lips was another thin gurgle. Good God, Kit. What the hell happened to you?

Who did this to you? I tried to tell him, but all that came out of my ruined mouth was a thin, choking sound and a torrent of blood and saliva. I felt large hands on my shoulders. just before the darkness overtook me a third time. When I woke up, I was lying on my back again. I was on top of something soft,

and a white blanket had been pulled up over me. My jaw ached. My mouth tasted like blood, but it was bone dry. After nearly drowning in my own blood, my throat was parched. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the irony of this, but failed to find it funny. Can you hear me, Jacqueline? I heard a man's voice somewhere above me.

I looked around. A man was standing beside me. He was wearing blue-green surgical scrubs. Raise your hand if you can hear me. I struggled to answer him, but my mouth refused to open. My entire jaw was filled with pain, as if white-hot nails had been pounded into my gums. Tears filled my eyes and started to spill down my face. The man dabbed at my face, wiping tears away with a white cloth.

I'm Dr. Greenbaum. You're in a hospital, and you're safe. He spoke slowly and smiled reassuringly, patting my shoulder. with a large, warm hand as he spoke. Why are your jaw shut? I reached up with shaking hands, trying to touch my face. Dr. Greenbaum shook his head, gently taking my hands in his and lowering them.

Don't touch. Lift your right hand for yes and you're left for no. I shakily raised my right hand, noticing the IV stuck into my elbow for the first time. Dr. Greenbaum leaned over me, fiddling with something on the IV stand. We've called your parents. They're on their way. They should be here soon. The door behind him swung open, and a haggard-looking police officer poked his head into the room. She awake yet?

Dr. Greenbaum patted my hand. I watched him walk over to the police officer, wondering why on earth he thought I'd be able to, to get up and leave. Even if I wasn't exhausted, racked with pain, and being slowly pumped full of medicine and painkillers, he and the cop were blocking the only door.

She can't exactly talk to you. Christ on his throne. What the hell happened to her? Dr. Greenbaum shrugged. It looks like someone attempted to remove some of her back teeth. It was Holly! I wanted to scream.

My insane fucking roommate tried to rip my teeth out to give to her creepy rabbit puppet. Fresh pain rippled through my jaw as Dr. Greenbaum and the cop turned to look at me. I didn't fully realize that I'd been trying to talk. Since I couldn't open my mouth, all I could manage was a series of pathetic, high-pitched wines. Using a notepad and a lot of hand gestures, I managed to tell. Dr. Greenbaum and Officer Lutz what had happened. Dr. Greenbaum told me that a small dose of rohypnal had been found in my system. Holly had tried to drug me at the party.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, I'm not too sure. Someone had knocked into me, spilling most of my drink before I could ingest it. I'm still not sure if I'm grateful to that person or not. Part of me thinks that it would have been better if I'd gotten the full dose and been unconscious while Holly tried to steal my wisdom teeth. In the end, my aunt's busted lava lamp had saved my life. Holly had plugged it in, and the cord had begun spitting sparks, one of which had landed on Mitzi.

In the end, all that remained of my beloved stuffed fox was her melted button-up. eyes. The fire hadn't devoured too many of my belongings. The brackish, dirty water in the sprinkler system had managed to damage and destroy everything else, including Holly's possessions. Luckily, the fire hadn't spread to any other rooms. An entire building full of panicking freshmen had been evacuated, but the damage was minimal. A handful of people were hurt in the chaos. One boy had been knocked over and had broken a rib after another fleeing student had stepped on him. Another girl had fallen down the stairs, resulting in a broken nose and a concussion. The police had found Holly sitting outside the building, covered in blood, clutching Mr. Clacky Teeth and crying.

They had initially assumed that the blood had belonged to the girl who'd broken her nose. Once firefighters had rushed into Arroo, and found me covered in blood and barely moving, they had brought Holly to the police station instead of the hospital. She wouldn't talk to anyone except Mr. Clacky Teeth, and even then, all she did was apologize to him for not getting my wisdom teeth. Mr. Clacky Teeth's dentures were made out of human teeth, specifically Holly's old baby teeth, her wisdom teeth, and a few teeth whose owners still haven't been found. We've run out of tape.

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