Eagle in the Sunset 2019 Chapter 25 I Dare You to Call Me a Cab
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I Should Have Called A Cab free porn video
I SHOULD HAVE CALLED A CAB
By Spanky de Bautumn
I huddled in the darkest part of the closet, afraid to breathe for fear
of making a sound, trying to figure out how I'd gotten myself into this
mess.
It started out like any other fall night, nothing special, just another
Thursday night. The starter on my old Pontiac was on the fritz, so I
caught a ride to the Wayside Inn. It was on the other side of town, but
Thursday is Ladies Night, so I felt compelled to make an appearance.
It turned out to be a slow night, nothing much of interest and I wasn't
what the ladies in attendance were looking for. I ran into Charlie
Brooks and a couple of his buddies. We shot some pool and told each
other the lies we had hoped would impress the pants off of some member
of the softer gender. Around midnight, I'd heard enough bull and was
about to get a cab and call it a night. Before I could make the call,
Charlie caught me and said he'd heard about a house party not too far
from the bar. I really wasn't ready to go to bed, so I hopped into the
car with the rest of his posse.
The five of us piled out of Charlie's Toyota in front of a small frame
house that had seen better days. The place was a mess, there were two
cars up on blocks, an old washing machine, and who knows what else
hidden in the over grown grass that was taking over the front yard.
Inside we found two guys passed out in the living room and a bunch of
empty bottles and cans, the headstones of a dead party. Billy, who I
learned later, lived there, was in the back yard making out with his
girl, Wendy, on a porch swing.
Some fast food fried tacos I ate earlier in the evening were suddenly
trying to make a curtain call, so I quickly went in search for the john.
The bathroom's motif matched the rest of the house, Modern Filth. It was
obvious we wouldn't be staying and I thought about trying to hold off
until I got home. The tacos and my intestines had a different idea. The
tacos were grumbling like kids on the last day of school, not wanting to
be there, and my intestines were like their parents, trying to get them
out of the house as soon as possible. I had to yield to their opinion
and like a brave soldier or a fool; I rushed in before my internal
organs could stage a revolt. I can't explain exactly how nasty the
bathroom was because I'm trying to erase the memory from my mind. The
fact that I had second thoughts about relieving the agony I was feeling
should paint a clear enough picture.
I only touched what I needed to finish the job and was out of there in
what I considered record time. But, as I exited the restroom, I noticed
the house was unexpectedly quite. It turned out Charlie and his boys,
finding the party was over, had taken off without me. I went out and
talked to Billy and Wendy, they told me that Charlie had asked them if
they had seen me, which they hadn't, so he figured I must have started
walking back to the bar. I inquired about a lift home. They said they
didn't have any wheels, but the Wayside was within walking distance and
I could probably get a ride there. I should have called a cab, but in
the state of mind I was in, I figured I could save some money, hoof it,
and still get back to the bar before closing time.
I'd lived in Lyndseyville for most of my twenty-six years, but had never
been in this part of town. It was the oldest part of the city, littered
with large old Victorian houses mostly in need of a face-lift.
Consequently, I somehow got turned around and didn't realize it until I
noticed the houses were starting to thin out. As I did a U-turn, I saw
that one of the houses I'd just passed had the lights on and I could see
some people milling around on the screened-in porch. I'd been trying to
get my bearings and they weren't making any noise, so I must have missed
it. Good thing I turned around when I did or I might have missed it all
together. Maybe my luck was changing; maybe I could use their phone and
call a cab, like I should have done instead of wandering off in
unfamiliar territory.
To my pleasant surprise, the figures on the porch were a couple of nice
looking ladies, who appeared to be my age or younger. They turned out to
be sisters, Mary, the older of the two and Beth, the cuter of the two.
They were a bit standoffish at first. In this neighborhood, at this time
of night, anyone would be. After hearing my dilemma and my assurance
that I was not a whacked out serial killer, they seemed to relax a bit.
Mary said I could use the phone and Beth added that these autumn nights
get chilly, so it would be all right for me to wait for my ride inside
where it was warmer.
I found both of them attractive in an old fashion, girl next-door sort
of way. So once inside, I wasn't in any hurry to call the cab company.
When neither of them brought up the subject, I figured they were
thinking likewise. It turned out their mom was out of town, helping her
sister with a difficult pregnancy and their father was a long haul
trucker, scheduled to be home sometime the following afternoon. As such,
the young ladies were letting their hair down, drinking some wine, and
enjoying the brief respite of freedom from parental authority they had
left. They didn't come out and say it but I got the feeling that their
old man wasn't a proponent of the Ozzie Nelson School of Parenting. It
was what they didn't say that made it appear they were somewhat afraid
of him.
We got to talking, I had some wine, and replaced calling the cab with a
new idea that involved helping these two lovelies celebrate the few
precious hours of unfettered living they so needed. I made sure their
glasses were always half full and talked them into joining me in a bit
of cannabis that Billy had given me to help me deal with the situation I
was in.
Both of them were bright and easy to talk to, which made for stimulating
conversation. Before I knew it a couple of hours had passed and it was
going on 3AM. It appeared my plan was starting to come together. The
wine and the weed had done their part by loosening up Mary and Beth's
inhibitions. We were sitting on the couch, me in the middle with the
sisters competing for my attention. It was starting to resemble one of
my fantasies and I couldn't wait to see how this would turn out. I felt
like a rock star, a boy toy for a couple of groupies.
Beth's head was resting on my shoulder and Mary was drawing little
circles on my thigh with her finger trying to explain something about
something that happened sometime earlier in the day, I think. The
situation I found myself in had my mind in another place, so I really
wasn't listening. The fire had died down to a soft glow, making the
scene very romantic. I was about to make my move on Beth and see where
it would lead, when there was a sudden roar of a diesel engine, the
screeching of a truck coming to a stop, followed by the swoosh of air
escaping from its brake lines.
A dark chill filled the room and the girls leaped from the couch in a
panic. It was their father, home early. They told me to hide in the hall
closet while they tried to get him upstairs. Then sneak out when it got
quiet. I got the feeling they had done this before.
I told them we hadn't done anything, we were just talking, why did I
need to hide? That's when my suspicions about their father were
confirmed because they said he had an awful temper especially when it
came to boys and there was no telling what he might do. That was good
enough for me and I high-tailed it to the closet.
I looked back to see the sisters scurrying about, cleaning up any
evidence of our little party before the old man walked through the door.
Just as I was shutting the door, I saw something that sent a chill down
my spine. My black jacket was hanging on the coat rack by the foyer like
a black flag warning of impeding danger. It was too late to say or do
anything, the girls were too preoccupied to notice. I had a feeling this
wasn't going to end well.
Damn, I should have called a cab like I was going to do instead of
listening to that little voice that stokes my male ego and seems to
always get me in trouble. I had gone from walking on cloud nine to
stumbling into the darkest part of this closet in a matter of seconds.
What am I going to do if he finds me in here? What am I going to say?
Why didn't I call that cab?
I heard him enter the room and the three of them talking, but couldn't
make out what was being said. I thought or hoped that maybe there was a
chance he wouldn't see my jacket and maybe this would all work out. I
swore to any God that was listening, if he got me out of this I would
turn my life around, or at least try, and start going to church, if only
for the holy days.
My prayer was broken by the sound of breaking glass followed by loud
angry cursing. I heard the sound of footsteps running past the closet
and up the stairs. The heavy boot steps of the father soon followed
them. He was accusing his daughters of being ungrateful whores,
worthless sluts, and he'd make them pay for their sinful ways. His boots
sounded like a bass drum as he lumbered up the stairs after them. Then I
heard him pounding on a door demanding to be let in.
I figured this was as good a time as any to get out of there and I
slowly opened the door. From upstairs came the crunching of wood as the
door yielded to the kicking of his work boots. Without looking back, I
headed straight for the front door. I started to open it and remembered
my jacket was still hanging on the rack. I turned to go back for it,
took two steps, when a blood curdling scream stopped me dead in my
tracks. It froze me like a statue; the only thing that seemed to be
working was the part of me that urinates.
The next few minutes were a blur and I found myself running down the
street faster than I knew was possible. Blocks later I slowed down to a
jog because my lungs are burning and there was a stabbing pain in my
side. I started to feel like a shameful coward for running out on Mary
and Beth. I thought of going back, thought better of that idea and keep
going, in what I hoped was the right direction. I told myself it was a
family matter, the girls knew what could happen, and except for some
normal testosterone driven wishful thinking, I had done nothing that I
should have to pay for in pain. I was trying to ease my conscience, but
I wasn't doing a very good job of it.
I finally found a phone booth next to a small neighborhood market. My
first call was to the police. I told them I was out walking my dog, when
I heard a violent argument and the sound of things being broken coming
from the house. Adding that I thought there were two young ladies living
there and they might be in need of some help. The officer asked my name
and address, but I hung up the phone, not wanting to get any more
involved than I am. Then I make the call I should have made hours ago, I
call a cab.
My hands were shaking so much I had trouble getting my front door open.
I had to use both hands to hold the key steady, but I finally got it
open and flopped down on the couch. The sun would be up soon but I
couldn't sleep. I was still somewhat upset with myself for running out
on the girls like I did. I could have at least tried to defuse the
situation, talk to the old man or something. There was an empty feeling
inside me; I guess that's where my chivalry used to be.
I tossed and turned for more than an hour before falling into a troubled
sleep. I was awakened by a nightmare in which I had shrunk to the size
of a small rodent and was being chased around a dream styled room by a
pair of gigantic heavy work boots.
Besides killing the cat, curiosity can be a great motivator. I needed to
know what happened. I needed to know that Mary and Beth were all right
before I could feel good about myself again. So, I borrowed my
neighbor's car and took off to see what I could find out.
As I pulled up to where the house should have been, I knew there was
something wrong. This place looked as if nobody had lived in it for
years. This couldn't be the same house. So, I drove around for a while
but something kept drawing me back to the first house. I was so
confused. I was sure this was the right place, but it's not the same
house.
I parked in front of the place and was trying to put things in order
when I saw a mailman coming down the street pushing his cart. I stopped
him and said I was looking for someone who I thought lived there. He
told me I must be mistaken because this place was deserted when he took
over the route, 12 years ago.
As he tells me this, I'm thinking, what's going on because I was sure it
hadn't been a dream and I knew I wasn't so stoned that I had
hallucinated the whole thing. He goes on to say I must have it mixed up
with another house because no one has lived here since the murders.
Hearing this I got goose bumps all over and every hair on my body stood
up at attention. He tells me the story of a crazy old man who killed his
two daughters and then himself. The wife had been out of town when it
happened and never came back. She couldn't sell the place and so it sits
there slowly rotting away. He says the people in the neighborhood avoid
it like the plague. He turns to continue with his postal duties and over
his shoulder he laughingly says, "Everyone thinks the place is haunted,
if you believe in that sort of thing."
My jaw dropped to my chest, I was stunned, my head started spinning, and
I felt like I was going to pass out. I had to get out of there. I
stumbled back to the car and drove around trying to make some sense of
it all. In the back of my mind, I knew what I had to do and it scared
the shit out of me. I had to go back, go inside, and see what was there.
When I returned to the house, I didn't see anyone around and told myself
this was it. I knew if I left I'd rethink this whole business and
probably never come back and for my own sanity I needed to see what was
inside.
The porch was shaky but it held up as I tried unsuccessfully to get a
glimpse inside through the dirty windows. I got to the front door and
reached for the knob with a hand that was shaking like a dashboard hula
dancer on a bumpy road. To my surprise and dread, the door opened with a
loud creaking sound. The light that came rushing in from the open door
awakened the darkness. My eyes adjusted to the semi dark room and I
started to look around. There was a sense of familiarity; it looked like
the same place. But how could that be? A sudden gust of wind caused the
door to let out another loud squeak and I almost jumped out of my skin.
I turned, to make sure it was just the wind and not someone coming up
behind me, and saw something that stopped me cold. I couldn't catch my
breath. It seemed like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. I
wanted to run, as far and as fast as possible but my legs wouldn't
cooperate. I looked again to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on
me in the dimly lit room. They didn't. With all that had happened I had
forgotten about it, but there, hanging on the coat rack, was my black
jacket.
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