The Sideways Thinker
Chapter 2
As Stanley pushed open the door leading outside of the Mad Piper, his favorite pub, he had the feeling of trying to swallow a piece of steak without chewing it. It hurt, in his throat, in his chest, and in his gut. He never got used to that sickening feeling of rejection, no matter how many times it happened.
He smacked his palm against his forehead repeatedly. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," Stanley said as he took the penance from his hand.
“Poor little earthman... Your self pity is quite delicious.” said a voice in Stanley’s head.
"Shut up…" Stanley said.
He trudged aimlessly through the parking lot, the fresh snow crunching underneath his shoes. His light jacket was now admittedly quite insufficient.
Much like the rest of Stanley's life recently, the search for his car should not have been the epic struggle that it turned out to be. However, he was drunk, and really had no idea where the car was, not even in the vaguest sense. His short term memory which contained that info had been ambushed on its way to long term memory. Also, his warm protective buzz, that delusion that things were OK, was about to be shattered into million pieces. In fact, it was happening right now.
Stanley stopped indecisively. The lot was surprisingly full for 11pm on a cold Thursday night in January, however it appeared no one was out here, except Stanley. It was as if time stood still.
The cars were all hidden underneath white blankets of snow. And the snow's soft cushion had brought its weird silence. In times like this, when the chatter of the world died down, Stanley’s ears began to ring. It was an opera of imaginary high frequency noise, brought on my some type of hearing loss, or so his doctor said.
He pushed the ringing to the back of his mind, suddenly remembering the task at hand… keys. He dove his hand into his jacket pocket with ease, and just moments later, a keyring flew out like an explosion of metallic birds at surprising speed. And then they were gone. There was no clink when it hit the ground, no sign of their impact in the snow.
"Fucking great!" Stanley said, exasperated, looking around frantically. He saw nothing.
The frigid air bit at his lips and nose. He leaned up against a car and slid down to sit. He watched his frozen breath for a while as the occasional car passed. The drivers side door of the Subaru he was leaning on felt quite comfortable. "I just want to sleep," he muttered.
Of course you want to sleep. You humans sleep through your entire lives.
About 20 feet away from Stanley, a dark silhouette emerged from the shadows, like a black frog from a pond of oil, seemingly unaffected by the parking lot lights. Some things were visible: the distinct blueish hue to her skin, and her... horns. This was not first time Stanley had seen the demoness, although every time he did, he wished it was the last.
"You're nothing special, earthman," she said. "Just because I took you into my confidence does not mean I will not let you ruin this piece of flesh. It belongs to me. I can erase you and still have the shell." The demoness made her way elegantly, silently toward Stanley.
"I know," Stanley said as he shoved his hand into his jean pocket. His hand emerged from the pocket gripping an azure gem. He cupped it in his left hand and positioned its sharp point directly into his palm. He clenched his fingers down hard. A trickle of blood began to emerge between his fingers as the gem pierced his skin. He grimaced but continued to squeeze the gem furiously, as if to push it all the way through his hand. Its body glowed through Stanley's hand and emitted a strange pulsing whistle.
The demoness was suddenly still, and a small grin appeared on her face. She continued, "But, you are not completely without surprises.” Her voice revealed a small thread of affection. "A vampiric quantum stone. Bravo, earthm-" There was a loud crack and a blinding flash. The shadowy figure of the demoness dissipated like so much smoke.
Stanley winced as he slowly opened his palm. He carefully placed the gem back in his pocket and shook his pierced hand, flaying drops of blood on the snow.
He knew the gem would only stall her for so long. After all, she is a trans-dimensional alien capable of controlling humans like puppets, thought Stanley. He looked down at his hand still dripping blood. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this is the end game.
He squinted out at the snow. And then, like a fin popping out of the ocean, a single brass key stuck out of the white just a few feet in front of him. He stood up and snatched the keyring from the snow.
Stanley clicked the remote. A horn honked 4 cars down from where he was standing. He exhaled deeply. He clicked the remote again, opened the trunk door on his Honda hatchback, and grabbed a battered first aid kit.
He bandaged his hand as he sat in the car with the heater on. The parking lot was still dead, stuck in time. As his body warmed, a sense of relief flowed through Stanley. Then the relief reached his eyelids, and he knew he would be asleep within seconds. And when sleep came, it would be the end game, thought Stanley. And he was ok with that. But he was wrong.
2014 © Eric Jolley