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by barryc
Rated: E · Fiction · Comedy · #2110959
You never know where you'll end up


As the closing credits scrolled up we edged our way into the aisle.

Standing shining a torch the usher guided us toward the exit. He wasn’t fully human and I had to check myself from turning tail and running. I was dizzy with fear, as the creature snarled “Follow me”.

Above the exit, in Gothic type was scrawled “Abandon all hope. Suckers”. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed, just behind the usher,a ghoulish, misshapen parody of a man. He was feasting on the remains of one of audience. The horrifying crunch of bone as this monster snacked on what I took to be an ankle caused me to retch.

My heart was banging against my chest and as the sulphurous fumes hit the back of my throat I recalled the words of the main character in the movie. “Being afraid is not enough; you will wish you had died a thousand deaths before this evening is out”.

I turned to my wife. “Who’s idea was it to see “The Devil Incarnate”. “ The blurb said “See this movie and you’ll never see another.””

She did not answer. In her eyes I saw only inextinguishable fear and terror as the doors of Hell opened and the rapacious inchoate horror that was the legion of damned souls ripped her to shreds. Her screams reverberated through an eternity of pain and torture. I knew my fate was also sealed.

My dying thought was “Hitchcock has a lot to answer for.”

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“At your destination mate. That’s a tidy sum I’ve earned tonight”. His eyes burned with menace as he drew out the knife and pressed it against my Adam’s apple. “As I said, it’s a tidy sum. Now hand over the money.”

Sweat poured down the sides of my temple, I gulped as the knife was pressed harder into my neck. I couldn’t move my hands quick enough. With a flash of the blade he ripped open my jacket. I winced as I felt its cutting edge shave my skin.

“There, no so hard was it? Now get out and walk”. He pushed me out of the taxi. I staggered to my feet, and looked down at my jacket. I trembled with rage, I swore to high heaven. He’d ruined a $500 Gant jacket and I was in no mood to take it to the local Chinese repair tailor.

“Bye sucker.”were his last words to me.

As he roared off I steadied my Magnum. The single bullet smashed through the rear window of his cab, passed clean through his brain to leave his cerebellum plastered on the dash.

The vehicle somersaulted twice before exploding and littering my quiet residential street with grease and gore.

I turned, went up to my front door, unlocked the double bolt and as I entered my home said under my breath “That’s the last time I use Uber.”
© Copyright 2017 barryc (bucephalus at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2110959-Two-Riffs-on-A-Short-Journey