If I donât, my parents will kill me. If only I had an example.â
Professor Hatchet said, âYour mind is thirsty for knowledge. Mine is thirsty for blood.â He removed a small hatchet from his briefcase and slashed her carotid artery in one clean swipe. As the girl bled on the floor clutching her neck and gasping, he asked her, âNow are you taking notes? This will be on Fridayâs examination.â
Hunched over Julesâs desk was a naked female with long flowing black hair and a shapely body. One of the vampire tramps. She worked tirelessly splicing, cutting and connecting what would complete the film The Final Flesh .
The monster was occupied by the ghost of Julesâs wife, Darlene. She was key to Mr. Ratchetâs existence. The war effort itself.
âIs it almost ready?â
Darlene grunted. â Almost. Now leave me be. Go back to what you were doing. I canât be distracted.â
Mr. Ratchet agreed that she couldnât be distracted. He moved on to Jules who was tied up and standing up on a metal dolly. His mouth was duct taped shut. Darlene had tied him up and left him there. Julesâs eyes doubled at the sight of Mr. Ratchet.
âItâs almost show time, Mr. Baxter. Iâm so glad you let us use your fine theatre to show our movie.â
Mr. Ratchet lifted the dolly and began pushing Jules out of the room. âKeep up the good work,â he said to vampire Darlene as they made their exit. The vampire said nothing. She kept laboring at her task. She cared nothing about her husband. Only the war.
Jules was moaning and grunting beneath the duct tape.
Mr. Ratchet was delighted to hear his suffering.
âI guess youâve figured it out, Mr. Baxter. Itâs so easy to trick the living. You know nothing about yourself until youâve survived death, like I have. Donât beat yourself up too bad, Mr. Baxter. Theatres like yours across the entire world are being seized. Theatre owners have been put to work just like you have. From Boston to Barcelona, weâre using your facilities to fuel the war. Fools like you have all succumbed to our tricks and traps. The real tragedy of your mistake is involving the ones you love.
âBut do you really love your niece? Even before I came along, youâd allowed the death of your wife to overshadow everything else. Selfishly wallowing in pity, youâve forgotten Penny. Sheâs run the business for you while you checked out. Even when your staff quit after not being paid, Penny hung in there. She loved you unconditionally, but a person can only take so much dejection before they give up. The poor woman even stayed in a horrible relationship because she worked so hard at this theatre. Itâs because of you, Mr. Baxter, that your niece will die right here in this theatre alongside you. Maybe that will quiet your begging and sniveling for a minute?â
Mr. Baxter indeed went quiet. The facts were sinking in nice and deep. His life was flashing before his eyes. He didnât like what he saw.
The reaction brought great pleasure to Mr. Ratchet as he wheeled the man into Theatre 4 for the showing of The Final Flesh that was perhaps only minutes from being completed and finally shown to the masses.
Lucky Lester ran the projection booth for Theatre 3. His final job here was playing the film The Final Flesh . A man named Mr. Ratchet paid him double time to perform his duties. The man went as far as saying three other people were being brought in to run the other projection booths.
None of that mattered. Tonight was the final night. He had pulled some shit in his day, Lucky Lester reminisced. He enjoyed another pull from his bottle of cheap bourbon. They didnât call him âLuckyâ for nothing. For his eleven year run at this theatre, heâd sneak his wife up into the projectionistâs box for a little hugging and kissing. He was worse about playing with the ladies when he was in his
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