The Suitcase

It was the same house that all of Vito Camprions hit men went. Everybody who did a hit for him where sent there to hid out for a while until the heat went down. Floyd and Simon walked in wearing long black trench coats, slicked back hair and a suitcase full of ten million dollars in cash they had collected for Vito. The place was small with only one bedroom a living room, kitchen and a bathroom. Floyd sat down on the dirty brown couch. He laid the suitcase beside him and Simon followed by sitting on the loveseat across from him. Floyd opened the suitcase.
"It's all hear," he said with a smile. It was cold hard cash. Each ten thousand was wrapped in nice blue paper. Simon looked around.
"So what do we do now?" he asked.
"I'll call the boss and see what he says." Floyd walked over to the phone.
"I gotta piss" Simon announced as he made his way over to the can. The phone rang about seven times before anyone answered.
"Hello?"
"Boss it's me, we got the money"
"Good, any hassles?"
"None"
"Stay there until Tuesday, until after the cops die down".
"Ok boss".
He hung up the phone. Simon walked in out of the bathroom.
"What did he say?" he asked. Floyd looked him in the eye.
"He told us to hang here till Tuesday".
"Tuesday? Why Tuesday?" Simon circled around the brown coffee table in the middle of the living room and scratched his chin.
"That's what the boss says and what the boss says goes" Floyd replied.
"Well what are we going to do until then?" Simon seemed frustrated. Floyd sat up. His jacket was tucked underneath him.
"I don't know just…."
It was a noise. Like someone was rummaging through something. They both looked at the suitcase to make sure it was all right. Floyd got up with the gun in his hand and pointed it in every direction.
"What the fuck was that?"
Simon stood silent in one spot.
"What was what?"
The noise came again only clearer this time.
"That fucking noise sounds like someone is in here," Floyd said heading toward the bedroom. The door in it was closed but he slowly touched it open. The room was pitch black along with the world outside. He switched on the light and proceeded in. His was flustered in his hand. A small figure jumped out at him barking wildly. Floyd fell with the furry thing landing on his chest. He struggled with it and the gun went off. The small ball of fur flew in the air landing on the desk by the window. Simon came in running from the other bedroom with Floyd on the floor.
"Why are you on the ground" he asked and Floyd gave him a dirty look.
"Something was on top of me you idiot!"
Simon didn't like Floyd calling him names but he put up with it. He helped him up off the ground and walked over to the figure on the desk. He picked it up with blood all over the place.
"It's a dog, you shot a fucking dog" Simon laughed.
"Do you know what these things carry these days?" Floyd spoke red face and embarrassed "What is a dog doing in here anyways?"
"I don't know" Simon nodded "I think we need some sleep."

They were both out cold on the couch. The brisk wind blew through the night sky sending a breeze through the windows. The suitcase was placed on the edge of the couch. I was not locked up. The couch ruffled. Another sound other than the snoring Simon was heard. Something was under the couch. It crept out. It's long green fingernails scrapped above the surface. It had a small body and another green figure behind it. Their teeth dripped slime and fome from their mouthes. The fuzzy black hairs on their back scratched up against the suitcase that was at the edge of the couch. They snuck up, growling and nibbling on the nylon. They got up to the case. Their beadier red eyes stared it down. They looked a Floyd and Simon and began to open the suitcase. Their fingernails slit the glossy case as they opened it. Simon shuffled around. His eyes opened only a bit. He scratched his face and got up.
"What time is it?" he asked himself.
Floyd was out like a light.
"Floyd get up!"
Nothing.
"Floyd let's get some food" Simons voice was deep and had cracked.
Floyd got up.
"What time is it?" he asked Simon.
"I don't know but I starved."
Floyd got up with his foot close to the couch. He felt something pull on leg, forcing him down. The short demons dug their claws into his calf. Floyd screamed. Simon panicked and ran to his aid. They growled as the demons sank their teeth into his bony leg. Simon pulled out his gun and fired under the couch. Floyd felt the blood from his veins draining him to nothing. The little monsters let go. Floyd pulled himself out. He slowly got up.
"What the fuck was that?" Simon yelled.
Floyd shook his leg.
"I don't know?" he replied "But it took a nice chunk out of my leg."
He walked to the bedroom as a green flash of flew at him grappling a hold on his neck. Floyd fell back. It trapped its teeth over his throat, ripping out his larynx. Simon stood there in shock. He pulled out his gun once again.
"You fuckers!"
He fired it blasted the green monster against the bone white wall. Simons face dropped. Black ooze poured out of the demons body and dripped onto Floyd's corpse. Simon ran to the door but his was locked in. The sweat dripped down his brow. He went to the phone but there was no dial tone. He sat on the couch, shaking coldly. A loud sound shot the walls. Simon flew up. He was breathing very heavy. A loud growl lurked behind him. Simon turned around. Two devilish beasts stood there not even a foot tall. He pointed his gun at them and fired. One jumped at him. Simon caught it and bashed it against the corner of the kitchen counter. He threw it down and shot it continuously. It lay there and Simon approached it. It lashed at him and chomped on his shoulder. Simon turned on the stove and threw the creature into the oven. It lit up like fireworks. He held up his shoulder but it was over. He saw something. His friend Floyd but he was different now. His face was deranged and disfigured. The deep voice was scaring Simon. Then Floyd disappeared. Gone. Simon was confused now. He searched around. Nobody was there. Simon's relief turned into fear as he turned around again and saw Floyd. He grabbed Simon's head and ripped it off, throwing it against the television smashing the screen.

Tuesday. Vito Camprion opened the big brown door. He was anxious to get his money. Simon's body lay there. The blood from his corpse stunk and his head was stuck in the TV. Vito looked at the suitcase on the couch and it was empty.


THE END