The Thing! - Part One

My older brother hates scary movies. He curls up in a ball and half hides from them under the security of a warm blankie. They give him nightmares for weeks. None of this stops him from watching them though. He has a strange addiction.

The other day a scary trailer played before our movie at the theater. He leaned over to me and shuddered. "Not going to watch that one!"

I laughed. I knew he probably would. He'd also drag someone else along to share in the terror as though companionship actually helps him. It doesn't.

That's just the way he is.

I worked at a grocery store while in high school. I would often come home after a late shift bagging and chasing carts around the parking lot and find some member of my family hanging out downstairs, watching tv. One week a channel had a monster movie marathon. I came home day after day to find my older brother balled up on the couch with a blanket just under his nose.

Yes, we did have a huge ugly green sectional and a large wooden entertainment center. My brother often claimed the corner as the blue light of horror washed over him. He would look up when I walked in, pat the couch next to him, and mutter something through his fluffy shield. "Watch. Scary. Sit. Watch."

I would usually sigh, then sit, and watch the rest of whatever nightmare fuel happened to be on.

I've mentioned before that few things scare me and that I like to scare others. Movies just make me laugh. This evening my brother had elected The Thing as his drug of choice. It wasn't that scary, but it did have this crazy scene where an alien in the form of a dog assimilates several other dogs. One of the actors turns a flamethrower on the creature and you can imagine the mess. Not pretty and horrifying in a not so scary way.

The movie ended and my brother remained near comatose behind his blankie, shivering, twitching, and muttering to himself.

"Shouldn't have watched that. Not gonna sleep. Icky dog thing."

I stood up and turned on the light. The switch sat right next to the entertainment center and a dark hallway. Now, I can count on my fingers the number of times I have been scared enough to jump. This is one of them...in slow motion for your entertainment.

I did not kick the kitty, so you know. That is me half jumping away.

I know. Not that scary. In my defence that was not our kitty! It could have been some mutant from outer space intent on assimilating me and using my husk as a disguise while spreading its invasive self around the globe. You don't know!

And what is wrong with my brother? Who yells "kitty" like the zombiepocalypse has begun and I happen to be standing right next to a mindless biting corpse? I didn't even understand him. My ears could not decipher the terrifying scream. My reality blurred into sudden light, blinking, a horrible noise issuing from my brother's mouth, pointing, some unknown black thing moving inches from my leg, recoiling from the evil beast before it could consume my soul. So, yeah, I jumped. Do you blame me?

The poor kitty ran for it, probably more confused and terrified than any of us.

My brother laughed at me. At me! I started plotting my revenge right then...and my revenge would be epic, dear brother, epic! You shall see! You shall wade in the epicness of my revenge! But that will be next week's post.