The Geezers Next Door

I hadn’t seen them or their forty pound wiener dog Schlitz in over two years. Perhaps they’d forgotten about me. No, damn it they couldn’t have forgotten. No one does something as absolutely fucked up as they had and forgets about the person they’ve done it in front of. Who am I speaking of you ask? Depraved and escaped convicts? Disgruntled fast food employees? Invading Canadians bent on world domination? No, much more dangerous than the above mentioned, for their hoary guises were perfect cover for their bizarre activities. The grandma and grandpa duo of which I speak lived not twenty yards from the wall of my brick Cape Cod. Yes, they are my neighbors, the ones with the yellow FLHRSI Road King Harley Davidson motorcycle and the pimped out conversion van with Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper painted on the side. I had thought them somewhat eccentric in the scant four five conversations I had with them but never expected that under their polyester clothing that two full fledged freaks were hiding, not until the morning I caught them peeping through the blinds in my bathroom. Things would only get weirder.

It had been a day like any other. That is nothing stood out that would make describing memorable so I will just say that there was indeed a sun and a big blue sky. Happy? Anyway, I had just awoke and had sent my two loyal and purebred attack Chihuahuas out in the yard to make sure the premises were secure and then had gone to relieve myself in the restroom. As I urinated I stretched my spine back to loosen it for the day’s toil and upon straightening back up I saw what was perhaps the most disturbing sight I had ever beheld. Through the open blinds I could make out two sets of bulbous blue eyes, they were watery like overflowing toilets and the skin around them was chapped and looked like something a bobcat had been gnawing on.

Startled, I grabbed for my penis with urine still streaming from it and tried to jam it back into my Polo boxer briefs. It took some doing but after several seconds of spattering piss on the walls I managed and then I lunged at the window and yanked up the blinds…they were gone I paused for a moment and wondered if perhaps they’d really been there at all. If they had been wouldn’t my attack Chihuahaus have alerted me? Wouldn’t they have sunk their little teeth into the rawhide ankles of those geezers that were peeping at me?

I quickly gathered myself in my bathrobe and ran out to the back yard. My attack Chihuahuas were busy rolling in what appeared to be reindeer shit. Their motto, I believe, though it has never been spoken to me, is perhaps the stinkier the better. Surely they had been around the other side of the house when the oldsters were looking in the window at me urinate. They would have never let them peer into my window. As I drew closer to the frolicking canines I noticed an empty Snausages bag and the bloated belly of Uma and Flea.

“Bastards,” I cried.

They’d sated my two miniature watch beasts with the fast food of the dog world. Their little arteries were probably hardening as I stood there up to my ankles in wet grass. I had to get to the bottom of this. My personality would allow for no other option.

BAM!

The garage door next door slammed shut. It was them. They had been hiding in the bushes and when I wasn’t looking had sneaked in. I cinched the belt of my robe and sprinted towards their garage.

When I reached the garage I heard the thunderous roar of a Harley Davidson motorcycle starting. I thought perhaps they were readying for a road trip. I’d seen them take off many times on such journeys, their forty pound wiener dog Schlitz riding in an oversized saddle bag, his long ears whipping in the wind.

What I did see through the window of the side door was not an elderly couple preparing for a jaunt on their hog. What I did see was instantly and thoroughly disturbing. It was whacked.

The old lady was hog tied with chains and hanging from a winch that was strapped to a beam in the ceiling in the center of the garage. She was dressed in black leather S&M gear. Some sort of funky swimsuit looking get up that didn’t have breast panels and which let her deflated sweet potato titties hang down and sway to and fro. She had on knee high black boots with spiked heels at least 6 inches high.

The old man had on a leather codpiece, black dress shoes, and white socks. The wiener dog Schlitz was wearing black leather shorts, a black mesh shirt and a black captain’s hat held in place by a leather strap.

The old man leaned his head back and let out a terrible cry and then ever so slowly he began to lower his wife. His wife seemed to be enjoying the whole thing so it didn’t even occur to me that I might call the police or try some sort of rescue. When her mouth was level with the exhaust pipe of the Harley Davidson the old man gently coaxed his wife forward. And then suddenly the old woman’s jaw unhinged like that of some great jungle snake and her mouth was now as wide as the opening of a large bucket of chicken and then she began to suck.

Schlitz walked up to the old man, laid on his back, and froze there as if he were a stuffed museum piece. The old man ran his wrinkled fingers along the length of the wiener dog’s elongated stomach. “Aha,” the old man cried and I heard the sound of a zipper unzipping. He then stood back and Schlitz split in half like a suitcase, his insides hollow and pink like used chewing gum. In the center of Schlitz’s innards was some sort of gold dust that was so brilliant in its color and reflection that I was sure it had to be some otherworldly substance like dry alien urine or the dandruff of a dry scalped god.

“Magic,” the old man said.

He then produced a coke spoon from a silver chain on his neck and dipped into the glittering gold powder. Schlitz closed slowly like an automatic garage door and then snapped shut, rolled back on his legs and stood their like a fury coffee table.

The old man put the coke spoon under the old lady’s nose and she snorted. Gold dust shot up her nostrils and the effects were immediate. She began to inflate like some great dirigible, her skin expanding and expanding. I tried to ready myself to run for help but it occurred to me that I wouldn’t know what to say when I contacted the authorities. How do you explain such a strange scene and furthermore was anyone really being hurt? These questions were beyond my capabilities of reason for I’d never been exposed to anything so bizarre in all my days.

The old man undid his wife’s bindings and she floated to the top of the garage bobbing happily about. The look on her stretch and inflated lips was one of unadulterated bliss, a anomaly amongst the normal elderly demeanor which hinges on the desperation of the glint of the Grim Reaper’s sickle.

It seemed she might have gone on floating forever and I don’t know that I would have ever tired of seeing her float around the garage and was half tempted to open the garage door and watch her float up up and away. She, however was not meant to float like this forever. In the next instant her back hit a nail in the roof and my elderly neighbor exploded. Blood, high heels, flesh, and black leather sprayed out all over the garage like some mighty fourth of July firework. I knew now why her husband had put on the safety goggles, rubber smock and elbow length gloves.

When the explosion had happened something seemingly heavier than the rest of the spraying matter had fallen straight down and into the arms of the old man. It appeared to be some small creature wrapped in a mucus membrane. Whatever the fuck it was it squirmed and kicked and I was overwrought with a terror that started in my resticles and rose up through my core like an ice water enema. It was of course useless to run for although I was terrified the curiosity overwhelmed me. Yes, I know it killed the cat but this was damn strange and I wasn’t considering mortality at that moment.

The old man took the squirming egg shaped membrane and laid it on his work bench in a pile of sawdust. What the Hell was it? I wondered. Some sort of pupal stage of a giant blood sucking insect?

The old man removed a pair of garden sheers from his work bench and began snipping away at the membrane. Beer like juices spilled from the membrane onto the floor and formed a foamy puddle that pulsed and glowed purple.

After some extensive snipping the old man stepped back, crossed his thin arms across his chest and watched.

First a gangly paw shot out and then out shot another leg and another and finally a fourth.

“By God, it’s heinous,” I said under my breath.

The old man picked a piece of saw dust covered membrane off his work bench and bit into it. He chewed with his mouth open which was perhaps the grossest thing I saw that day.

“Oh my treasure. My beautiful little treasure,” he said and dipped his hand into the egg shaped membrane.

I was prepared for most anything but not for what he pulled out of that membrane. He clutched it by its long ears like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. It was…

The old man spun suddenly on the heels of his black S&M boots. The garage door swung open in front of me, seemingly under no human power, and I stood there exposed, caught peeping into my neighbor’s garage.

“Uh, I was wondering if I could borrow some sugar,” I said.

The old man didn’t say a word. He just walked towards me. I tried to take my eyes off what he held in his hands but noticed his codpiece and went back to looking at the long eared rascal he held like a delicate egg.

“For you,” he said.

I reached out and he laid the tan Chihuahua puppy in my hands. Its hair was wet and it smelled like hay.

“Thanks?” I said.

I held the puppy up to my face and it licked my cheek. Its eyes were so big and blue I thought if you looked at them too long you might lose yourself and never find your way back.

The old man pointed to the strange beer like liquid that had spilled from the membrane and collected in a heap of foam. The foam pulsed violently red now. It crackled and grew at an incredible rate.

“What the Hell is going on?” I said.

The old man held up an old chicken bone finger as if to say be silent and watch. I did.

The heap of foam began to take shape and then seemed to harden but not dry. Rather it took on the likeness of wet skin and then the shape of a human. I watched before me as a pair of breasts grew out and hair sprouted from all the appropriate areas. Soon enough I realized it was the old lady reborn from the foam. Only she wasn’t old anymore. She was you and beautiful. Wait. I’d spoken to soon. The vision of this gorgeous young woman now standing before me quickly began to deteriorate, her skin drying and wrinkling, her breasts deflating, her hair graying. Finally she was the old lady again.

She took a step towards the old man.

“Put this on,” the old man said, handing her another S&M outfit and a pair of high heeled boots.

The old woman put her gear on as I watched. The Chihuahua puppy yapped and strangely I knew it was time to go. I turned and without saying anything. I had the feeling that it wouldn’t make a difference if I said anything or not.

“Oh, yeah,” the old man said. “Her name is Macy and she’s purebred. The papers will come in a few weeks.”

‘Thanks?” I said.

Purebred what I wondered? Although my new puppy looked like a Chihuahua it seemed somehow different. Just how I couldn’t tell.

I didn’t sleep for weeks after that, constantly peering out from between my blinds to see if the elderly couple next door was doing anymore weird shit. I didn’t see them though, not even their fat wiener dog Schlitz. It’s strange because their lawn has always been cut, their mail always taken in but by who? I’ve watched that house at all times of night and day and have seen no sign of human habitation. What the Hell am I saying? Obviously they weren’t of this world. Or were they? Hell, I don’t know.

At least I gained something from my weird experience, yes my new Chihuahua Macy. She likes me to put her leather lead on and walk her around the neighborhood. She never leaves my side. She always watches me while I change and take showers, her big blue eyes brimming with water like the old lady’s…