Kill-Box Road Trip (Dialogue Tales Contribution)

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A: “Are you serious?”

B: “Yes.”

A: “Dude, dumped your ass by quoting Spoon River Anthology?”

B: “Yes. I want more coffee. Where’s the waitress?”

A: “Don’t change the subject. We’re in a half-burnt down Denny’s. There are no waitresses. Why do you have a split eyebrow, a black eye and rug-burn?”

B: “He has worse and we weren’t dating so he didn’t dump me. And though we are in a half-burnt down Denny’s, I saw a waitress earlier.”

A: “Right. Blah, blah, one night stand, blah, two nights in a row. Shut up about the coffee. The waitress is probably crying in the back. Tell me about the brawl.”

B: “I kinda liked him. He had blue eyes.”

A: “And offensively long eyelashes. You aren’t going to tell me about the brawl are you?”

B: “Maybe.”

A: “What part?”

B: “What part huh?”

A: “What part of Spoon River?”

B: “Some of ‘Fletcher McGee.’”

A: “Uh, haven’t read since high school.”

B: “Here, it’s on my phone.”

A: “Dude, he said you sapped his effin’ will to live in two days.”

B: “Read the next one.”

A: “Next one?”

B: “It’s a critical analysis of the poem in regard to its parallels with our two-night stand.”

A: “WHAT?”

B: “Read it.”

A: “ARE YOU SERIOUS? How did you find this d-bag?”

B: “Bourbon Street Beer Garden. He had his nose in a seminal study of superstition and a skinny tie.”

A: “That was your first sign. Seminal, huh? You can’t be dating sharp dressed men that jackoff in four a.m. dancehalls.”

B: “Grow up. Seminal. Strongly influencing later developments.”

A: “Did he have big later developments?”

B: “You’re an idiot.”

A: “Zing.”

B: “Shut up.”

A: “I’m not all literary and shit –“

B: “Says the woman who has guns, an ’87 Penthouse Letters and a book about E.T. in her bag.”

A: “But did he mean you should be thankful he left before, and I quote El King Douche, he sculpted you into a broken hag?”

B: “Mmhmm.”

A: “Whata dick.”

B: “He was a good dancer.”

A: “You sound like you still like him.”

B: “He had potential. Strong hands, good jokes, nice smile. Even had a job.”

A: “Why would he send you ef-off texts from inside your apartment and then beat your ass? Overkill much?”

B: “He thought my poor, little girl brain would be so broken up over him ditching me while I was in the shower that I wouldn’t notice he was a thief. But then I caught him leaving.”

A: “What did he steal?”

B: “I really want coffee.”

A: “Christ, shut up about the coffee.”

B: “You look like an asshole waving your arm in the air like that.”

A: “Got the waitress over here, didn’t it?”

C: “What can I get ya?”

A: “Coffee.”

B: “Yes, please.”

C: “A dab’ll do ya.”

A: “Hit me.”

C: “There you go.”

B: “Thanks.”

A: “K. Two questions.”

B: “Huh?”

A: “One: What’d he steal that we hauled ass from Chicago to Colorado for? I didn’t ask on the ride because you had music on, loud. Sixteen hours of Raw Power. You ruined that album for me for at least a year.”

B: “He took the box.”

A: “The black box?”

B: “Yeah.”

A: “Not cool.”

B: “Nope.”

A: “Nobody but our moms even know about it.”

B: “That’s what I thought.”

A: “Nothing says road trip like questing after evil family heirlooms.”

B: “Today sucks.”

A: “What’d you chop off? You kept checking a glow-ey thing in your purse before you told me which ramps to take. Your family’s a two-trick pony: feeding the box and flesh tracking. We aren’t in Colorado on a GD hunch, right? I got shit to do back in Chicago.”

B: “Shit meaning a certain pompadoured bartender?”

A: “Hell and yes, he is the shit I was doing. I was like UH! Take it!”

B: “Quit mounting the table. You’re splashing my coffee.”

A: “Can’t – stop –“

B: “I took this.”

A: “Guh! Dude, I was makin’ love right then, you can’t be dropping an ear all up on the table while I’m makin’ babies with it. Why an ear?”

B: “Last thing I grabbed before I passed out.”

A: “You let that mf-er black you out?”

B: “Shut up.”

A: “Pussy.”

B: “Whatever. You weren’t there.”

A: “How was I supposed to know that Dude McPitchTent-and-Stroll was gonna steal your box?”

B: “Doesn’t your family have some built-in danger warning? You’re supposed to be a bodyguard.”

A: “Hell no. What? You think the world is magical? There’s good, there’s bad and then there’re a few tricks between. Shit, I just gotta keep my eyes open.”

B: “Well, you didn’t.”

A: “Hmph.”

B: “And I didn’t, and we’re here now.”

A: “What are we going to do about her?”

B: “Who?”

A: “The waitress.”

B: “What about her?”

A: “Dude, she has one arm and half her neck-chest is hanging off. It almost got in my coffee. Twice.”

B: “She’s still serving coffee, isn’t she?”

A: “In a half-burnt down Denny’s with a surprising lack of bodies. I restate: the world ain’t magic and I don’t believe in zombies.”

B: “She’s not a zombie.”

A: “So…”

B: “What? She’s just got minus one arm and a hole in her neck-chest.”

A: “But why isn’t she dead?”

B: “Maybe penicillin, maybe Jesus. My idiot tryst probably messed with the box. It doesn’t like to be jiggled.”

A: “The box did this?”

B: “Why else would a Denny’s be half destroyed, smelling like brimstone?”

A: “Will the waitress die on her own?”

B: “How do I know? The box hasn’t misbehaved in five hundred years. Probably in a couple of days.”

A: “Should we call your mom? She would know –“

B: “No. Definitely not. Even on chemo she could kick my ass.”

A: “What about my mom?”

B: “No. She’d phone mine.”

A: “Should we ask the coffee queen if she wants to die?”

B: “If you want to kill her. I’m not bumping off a grandmother with horn-rimmed glasses.”

A: “Hey lady –“

C: “Yes, dear? More coffee?”

A: “No. We’re done, but hey, lady, do you wanna die?”

C: “Everyone else did.”

A: “Yes, but do you want to die?”

C: “I think so, dear.”

B: “Go with the boot knife.”

A: “It’s a machete.”

B: “I’ll be by the crane machine.”

C: “Goodnight, girls.”

A: “Sorry, lady.”

B: “You done?”

A: “Yep.”

B: “I wanted that orange bear.”

A: “One, two, HUH.”

B: “Why don’t you ever wrap your elbow before you bust glass?”

A: “You’re welcome.”

B: “Let’s go.”

A: “Car’s waiting.”

B: “An Olds ’88 is more junk than car.”

A: “Shut up and put the ear on the dash.”


A: “K. Explain to me why we’re standing in a dark, empty field.”

B: “It’s not empty. Something has to be here.”

A: “You’re right.”

B: “I am?”

A: “Yeah, past that ridge of trees lives a slasher family who will eat sex-holes into our dead bodies.”

B: “You’re pessimistic.”

A: “You sure we’re in the right spot? Can that thing lie?”

B: “It’s an ear. It can’t lie.”

A: “If it can’t lie, where the hell is he?”

B: “Don’t know.”

A: “Hey.”

B: “Huh?”

A: “Know who might know what to do right now?”

B: “Huh?”

A: “Your mom. Let’s call her.”

B: “No.”

A: “Not even to make the ear work?”

B: “No way.”

A: “Couldn’t your earless-ex-slash-ho-bag feed the box?”

B: “No. It has to be family blood. My blood.”

A: “Or what?”

B: “The box opens.”

A: “So?”

B: “Pandora’s box contained a stream of toddler monkey piss compared to this one. Think of the half burnt Denny’s, magnify by an infinity of awful.”

A: “Why do you think Monsieur Bag-O-Dicks wanted the box anyway? It makes Jurassic Park raptor purrs. Shit freaks me out.”

B: “Don’t know.”

A: “How come he didn’t kill you?”

B: “I think he thought he did. After I cut off his ear, he slammed my head on the coffee table. I was a mess. Blood everywhere.”

A: “What the hell was that?”

B: “What?”

A: “That?”

B: “An owl. What’s with the gun? You going to shoot the owl?”

A: “Not the owl. You don’t hear that?”

B: “Oh. That.”

A: “Your dude has suck-taste in music.”

B: “Sounds like a Hallmark movie over the ridge.”

A: “Probably the inspirational tunes that a Leatherface family listens to while gnawing the breasts off unsuspecting women wandering the mountain.”

B: “Then we got thataway.”


A: “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

B: “If you’re seeing the 1991 horse-diving drama, Wild Hearts Can’t Be Broken, playing at a homemade drive-in on a mountain, yes, yes you are seeing what I’m seeing.”

A: “Dude, how’d you know the year it came out?”

B: “Shut up.”

A: “I don’t see him.”

B: “He’s got to be in the concession hut.”

A: “Whoever painted the hotdog and popcorn men sucked.”

B: “Um. The shack is shaking.”

A: “It also sex-moaned and smells like lavender puss. How long till you have to feed the box?”

B: “Dawn.”

A: “Let’s do this.”

B: “Wait. There’s no wind.”

A: “Ayup.”

B: “The shack scooted. A foot at least. That thing –“

A: “More importantly, what in the fun-time-chunky-hell is gushing out of it? Seriously, smalls, you’re buying me new boots.”

B: “He must be pissing off the box.”

A: “I thought we had a coupla hours.”

B: “Till it goes batshit. This is just it being pissy. It can do all sorts of stuff. Make birds swarm, raise skeletons hoards, start epidemics. Ew. I think we’re standing in earwigs.”

A: “I see skin molts.”

B: “Hey, the door…”

D: “Who’s there?”


D: “Oh…I thought you died.”


A: “I’m moving out of the gush. It’s frikkin ankle deep and growing.”

B: “There is no out of the gush.”

A: “Up there.”

B: “You want to go on top of the red-glowing, sway-shack that my ex-two-night-stand is screaming in?”

A: “I don’t think that’s him screaming.”

B: “Still…”

A: “You hear that?”

B: “What?”

A: “It’s chewing. The hell-bugs in the whatever-we’re-standing-in are eating my boots. You want stumps? I don’t. Let’s go.”

B: “Wait for me.”

A: “Up you go.”

B: “Oof. Give me your hands.”

A: “Good view of the movie, eh?”

B: “I got a splinter.”

D: “Who’s up there?”

A: “Who the helldya think, d-bag?”

B: “Pry up some tin. I want to see what’s going on.”

A: “Doin’ it.”

B: “Move your head. Let me see.”



A: “What the wing-flittering, swarm-nast just flew past my face?”

B: “Stupid, crap, cockroach plague. Move. I want to see.”

A: “No you don’t. Yer ex has an old broad duct taped to a chair. The box is shoved in a hole in her guts. Those cockroaches came out of her mouth. So did the bug gush.”

B: “All of the gush?”

A: “All of the gush.”

B: “What are you doing in there?”

D: “Don’t –“

D: “want –“

D: “to –“

D: “- talk about it.”

A: “What the hell was he doing?”

B: “Lifting popcorn sacks to barricade himself from the old lady.”

B: “I need the box back.”

D: “Can’t have it.”

A: “Why not, slowhole?”

D: “It’s stuck.”

B: “In the half-dead cockroach lady?”

D: “In my mom.”

A: “I’ll put it in your mom.”

D: “Bitch.”

A: “See this? HUH? See it? I’mna cut you with this.”

D: “Oh yeah, yeah girl, I’m real scared of a knife when my mom threw up two thousand pounds of insects.”

B: “Go be useful. Kill cockroaches. Let the grownups talk.”

A: “Effin whatever.”

B: “Why is my box in your mom?”

D: “She was dead. I made her better.”

A: “There is no better from dead, dipshit.”

D: “I know that now. I wanted her to come back.”

B: “The box can’t do that.”

D: “It did. She ate popcorn. She told me she loved me and then, then she got sick and we came back for water and brown-bug shit wouldn’t stop flooding out of her mouth and I duct taped her to the chair when her eyes rolled white, I freaked the fuck out, OK? OK?”

A: “Was that chittering?”

B: “Yes, that was chittering.”

D: “It was my mom.”

B: “How did you know about the box?”

D: “My family used to be keepers.”

B: “When?”

D: “You should know. Your family took it from us.”

B: “Your family caused the possessions?”

A: “What effin possessions?”

B: “1590. The men of Roanoke. The whole colony died.”

A: “Great. That was chirring. There is chittering and chirring going on in there.”

E: “Everyone died. All of them eaten.”

A: “Who was that?”

D: “My mom.”

E: “I wanted proper blood.”

A: “What did your jackass family feed the box?”

D: “Doesn’t matter.”

E: “Not family blood. Didn’t like it. Tasted like fishy apples.”

A: “So you killed a freakin’ colony?”

E: “Then I found someone’s great-great-long-time-ago-auntie in a fruit cellar, didn’t I my wittle, cutie-pootie-pie. She tasted like cherries.”

B: “I like that thing better in the box.”

A: “She sounds like a whispery perv.”

E: “Judgey.”

A: “If everybody but a seven-thousandth great aunt died, how’d your ex’s family survive?”

B: “One man left Roanoke for supplies. He got back and everyone was gone.”

E: “No one’s perfect.”

A: “There’s way too many gluggings and chuggings going on in there.”

D: “Hey.”

B: “What?”

D: “Sorry for taking the box back.”

B: “Sorry’s not enough.”

E: “Sorry sack of meat.”

A: “Ef your sorry. Give her the box or I’m going to kill you and your mom. Again.”

D: “I told you, roof slut, it’s stuck. I tried pulling it out of her guts as soon as she started making Exorcist noises.”

A: “Didn’t try hard enough.”

D: “What, you can do better?”

A: “Yep.”

B: “You can’t go down there.”

A: “Too late –“

A: “- I’m down.”

D: “You splashed me.”

A: “Get over it.”

D: “What’re you –“

A: “UH!”

E: “I like her. Fists first.”

D: “You hit me.”

A: “Asshole.”

D: “It fuckin’ hurt.”

A: “You smashed my girl’s head against a coffeetable, douchebag. Lucky I don’t gut you.”

B: “We don’t have time for this. Remember the hell-bugs? Remember the loosely duct taped possessed woman?”

A: “Warn me if his freakass ma moves.”

B: “Got it.”

E: “I’m watching you, too.”

A: “Get up.”

D: “Are you going to hit me again?”

A: “I’mna cut open your ma and you’re gonna pull out that box and throw it to the roof. On ‘go, go…GO.’ If you ef up I will kill you.”

D: “Will it make her better?”

A: “I will make you worse if you don’t sack up.”

D: “Fine.”

A: “Go, go…GO!”

D: “Oof.”

B: “Got it!”

A: “Ugh. Stomach juice.”

B: “Watch out!”

E: “Come here, my baby boy.”

D: “Go.”

A: “Huh?”

D: “GO.”

B: “Get out of there!”

E: “Come to mama.”

D: “Get away from me.”

E: “Come here, my wittle wuv.”

B: “How do I get down?”

A: “Jump. I’ll meet you outside.”

B: “Jump?”


A: “If I can bust through a shack door you can jump.”

B: “Wait. Wait for me.”

A: “Then get your ass off the roof.”


E: “Come, child.”

A: “I’ll break your fall.”

B: “GAHHH –“

A: “Did you have to land on my head?”

B: “The box feels lighter than it should be.”

E: “I’ll be home soon, moonpie.”

B: “What about –“

A: “The bug gush is catching fire.”

B: “But he’s screaming…”

A: “We’re going.”

B: “Crap. Crap. His mom buried his head in her stomach hole.”

A: “I got this.”

B: “You’re going to shoot –“

A: “Yep.”

B: “You shot him.”

A: “RUN.”


A: “We are not getting into the Olds like this.”

B: “Got to. Look.”

A: “We’re probably going to hell for setting a massive forest fire.”

B: “Among other things.”

A: “Get in.”

A: “We didn’t die.”

B: “We didn’t.”

A: “Is it in there now?”

B: “Yeah. The box is heavy again.”

A: “And everything is going to be number-one-A-OK when you feed it?”

B: “Yes.”

A: “How do you know?”

B: “Just do.”

A: “K. I’mna put it out there. Why the ef would he think he could bring his GD mom back from the dead with the box?”

B: “No idea.”

A: “You aren’t OK, are you?”

B: “No, I’m not.”

A: “What now?”

B: “I’m going to call my mom.”

Created: Feb 23, 2012


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