Popcorn Horror

Popcorn Horror

 

Every night for the past week, I've been peepin' at the new babe across the alley, watchin' her through my bedroom window. Hell, it ain't like I'm doin' nothin' wrong. She flashes me that toothy smile of hers then shoots me a wink to let me know she knows. She puts on one helluva show, too–just for me.

First, she gets completely naked—oh, jumpin Jeezus, what a body she has! She always undresses before her latest victims do. Sometimes, it's a gorgeous gal, like herself. Most times, it's a guy. I like the nights she has her gal friends over best of all.

She dims the lights then sets a match to a couple a' black candles she keeps on her bureau... now that's when the party really kicks into high gear.

I make my favorite microwave popcorn, sit back, and start enjoyin' the screams.

Oh, I ain't talkin' about screams of pleasure or ecstasy here—no siree. These are screams of agony and terror while she rips 'em to shreds. They never see it comin' neither... not until it's too late. She transforms so damn fast.

Whoa, hold up a sec... stow the chatter. The lights are dimmin'— that means the show's about to begin. I need some popcorn, and I got some all ready to go right... huh? Hold up. Where the hell's she goin' with them candles?

Shit, she's grabbin' her coat and leavin! Tonight of all nights. And I bought Orville Redenbacher, too!

Fuck it all, now someone's beatin' at my door.

Just my dumb luck.