Transylvania’s Got TalentMay 13, 2012 at 9:30 PM | Posted in Fiction | Leave a comment
Tags: flash fiction, pulp fiction, weirdness
What is pulp, exactly, other than the stuff I don’t want in my orange juice?
Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge: Over the Top Pulp Insanity
Igor had his simple humped ass bitch-slapped across the lab.
“Silence!” The doctor did not have time for simpering. “I have to fix your mess.”
*Or exploit it.*
The doctor spun on his heels—did he hear a voice? Dr. F surveyed the bloody destruction of his lab. It seemed so…raw, so carnal. Good thing he was wearing a lab coat, like evil scientists do.
He grabbed his assistant by the collar. “Where is it? Where is my creature?”
A husky, earthy voice hissed at him. “Right here, Doctor.”
All of this spinning was useless without a cape. His gaze was transfixed on the creature.
“Did you not know what I was when you stole my body? Silver stake in my chest, in a silver-lined casket?”
This shortcoming is why werewolves were frequently resurrected. But this creature was not just a werewolf. After his first monster was such a hit, he had to go deeper, harder, *more*…
The bottom half was a horse. The top half should have been a woman. Dr. F’s eyes searched frantically–escape, a weapon, his iPod—something.
“Looking for this, Herr Doctor?” The creature pulled out the tranquilizer gun. “This shit won’t work on me. Should work on you.” He crumbled to the ground. Samantha trotted over to Igor, who was trying to crawl out the door. “Hold on there, chum.” She picked him up. “How would you like to work for me?”
The good Doctor woke up not quite feeling himself. His eyes came into focus on what looked like a human body…but it had a lion’s head on it. The lion growled at him, but the body was strapped down. “Holy fu-“
“Ah, Doctor! You’re awake. Excellent!” Samantha was now human on her top half. She got right in his face and whispered, “Oh, you are going to *love* this!” She pulled the sheet off of him, revealing his body.
“I was really tempted–I was–to put your head on Igor’s body. But this was just a perfect opportunity.” The Doctor’s mouth was open in horror, but no noise came out. She admired her work, seeing the body writhing in a tank of water just below the doctor’s head. “I mean really–the Creature from the Black Lagoon just does not fall in your lap every day.”
Igor’s head came strolling in on top of the body of Johnny Depp. You couldn’t tell that by looking, but Igor loved to brag about it. “Some of Tim Burton’s best work, eh?”
Samantha said, “You have to stop saying that. No one gets it.”
“Doesn’t matter, Master; I’m happier than a pig in shit. Here’s the permits.”
“That’s what I’ll do next! Whose head should we put on a pig?”
By the time summer came, Samantha’s freak show was touring everywhere she was allowed. Igor was the managerial face of the circus, acting through her. Samantha herself was the headliner. She loved show business. Even the one night a month she was a werewolf didn’t stop her—but she did stay in a cage that night.
Dr. Frankenstein stayed in his tub. Due to a related anomaly that created the creature part of him also gave him an enzyme deficiency that caused his body to dry up and crack painfully if he was out of the water for very long. He looked forlornly at the cages of nightmarish creatures that his perfect vision had been perverted into. That is too many heads for a dog. A cat should not have the head of an anaconda. And seriously—a jackalope?
The Doctor’s nightmare was never-ending. Julie was the mermaid in the next tank over. The top half was human, and surprisingly pissed at her situation. She had no desire to explore her oral fixation with a weird fish-creature like Frankenstein, either. Maybe he should have waited few days before bringing it up, but he was never very good with women.
“Top-fish bottom-human would have been better.”
“What did you say, fish bait?”
“Give me some butter sauce.”
Samantha’s Circus of Freaks headed home, to Transylvania. This was the final insult, Frankenstein thought. Igor noticed the Doctor was more melancholy than usual. Since there was no show, however, there was no reason to medicate him. “What’s eating you, Gilbert Grape?”
“This was *my* home.”
“Well, it’s still in the fami—uh oh.”
“What did you say?”
“Best you ask Master.”
The doctor sloshed out of his tank. He had a good twenty minutes. He stood outside her office and eavesdropped on her phone conversation, then walked in when she hung up. “Explain to me how we are related.”
Reflexively her tail bristled. “You haven’t figured out how you know me?”
“Know you? The first time I ever saw you was when I…uh, when I did this to you.”
Samantha stepped closer to him, slowly. “You’ve operated on me once before. Maybe you don’t remember. I was a child. A boy… Your son.”
The memories came flooding back to him, as his skin scaled and dried, he welled up inside with tears. The son he had turned into a daughter. The son he had left on the doorsteps of an orphanage like casserole. “It…it was a mistake. I had to give you up. If I didn’t, something horrible would happen to you.”
“Lucky me.” Samantha noticed her father’s drying and cracking skin, took him in his arms and picked him up. He was bleeding in places. “Listen, Pop. There’s no hard feelings. I was happy as a woman. Getting turned into a werewolf was my own dumb luck. If it wasn’t for you, I would still be dead. And I never would have made it in show biz without you.”
She helped him back into his tank. “Maybe…maybe I’ll get a different body for you.”
“Sammy, I heard your phone call.”
“There aren’t wings big enough to make a rhinoceros fly.”
A scene I had to delete to make sure the story was under 1000 words:
[There, on the table, was the answer to the Doctor’s question: The head of the Creature from the Black Lagoon, alive, and floating in a jar like a celebrity cameo on Futurama. Dr Frankenstein shared the Creature’s obvious forlorn demeanor. He was also taken by how much the creature resembled Darth Vader (with mask). He sounded like him as well, with the ancient but complex machinery attached to him keeping him alive–probably against his will.]