Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Today’s story is brought to life by the following prompt…

This is my submission for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday.

Suck It Up

Gary tugs at his collar and swallows sharply, a sea of freshly squeezed sweat pours from his brow, and he blinks desperately.

“Are you all right, Mister Oddman?”

Gary nods his head and forces a strained smile. “I-I-I, I’m fine. R-Really,” he gasps, as he pulls at his collar once again.

“Would you like a glass of our house lemonade? I made it myself,” the man asks with a broad grin upon his lips, gesturing towards an empty glass and a jug of crystal-clear water that has several cubes of ice bobbing happily around the top, and three or four slices of lemon dancing between them.

He shakes his head and gasps again. “N-N-No, I-I-I’m fine, really. It’s just, t-t-the air i-i-in here is—”

“OH NO! Please, let me see if I can do something about that,” the man says, quickly clapping his hands in three short, sharp bursts. Several seconds later, a long-legged twenty-something brunette glides in through the doorway. “Fiona, could you be a dear, and do something about the air in here? It seems Mister Oddman has some sort of issue, he may be severely allergic to the air or something of that description.”

“N-N-NO!” Gary grunts as he thrusts a stretched-out hand towards her, his eyes watering as they teeter on the edge of exploding from their sockets. “I-I-I’m n-not allergic, i-i-it’s just s-s-stuffy!” he gasps desperately.

Fiona raises an eyebrow, wobbles her head from side to side, and pouts her lips. “Stuffy?” she says, widening her eyes in disbelief as she looks around the room. “This is one of the only offices in the whole complex that has air conditioning, so I can’t see why it would be stuffy in this room, no sir, I cannot.”

“P-P-Please,” Gary pleads as he tears at his collar, digging his fingernails into his flesh.

“Fiona, can’t you open a window or something to help the poor man out?” the man asks with a smirk across his lips as he lazily gestures towards the closed windows that overlook lush fields of green.

“OH HELL NO! If I open a window, sugar, it ain’t gonna help one little bit, because it’s a hell of a lot stuffier out there than it is in here. Can’t he just suck it up?”

The man leans back in his chair, presses his fingers together, and stares at Gary. “Did you hear that, Mister Oddman? Fiona said that opening a window is not the option, and that she also believes you should just suck it up. Is this something you can do?” he asks as he picks up a folder from his desk, opens it, and starts studying its contents. He peers over its top towards Gary and sneers. “According to your records, sucking it up is something you are not good at, is it, Mister Oddman?”

Gary swallows a strained mouthful of saliva, grimaces, and nods his head.

“Right, well,” the man says as he looks up at Fiona. “I guess you can go. It seems Mister Oddman will not be in need of the opening of a window or the refreshing tang of a cold glass of house lemonade, as he is unable to suck it up,” he says with a sarcastic widening of his eyes.

“P-P-Please,” Gary grimaces once again, clutching his throat in desperation.

“No, Mister Oddman, the time for please and thank yous is long gone,” he says as he leans across the desk, grinning broadly. “It’s time for you to take your place in hell! So, welcome to your forever home, you lucky little bastard!”