WetWeb by Robert Haney

was too much sex and violence in and around Squabash for this story to be a serious content feature.  But , if it was pulp, then it was good pulp; and historical.
    When Franklin opened the door of the skim-taxi , and he was surprised to see it was quite dark outside.  The front of his home was quiet.  The tall trees that lined each side of the street stood like silent sentinels ; waiting, watching.  Around their branches an occasional star would glimmer.  There was no moon.  The streetlight was out.
    The skim-taxi moved off soundlessly and as he watched the tail lights recede he realized he had forgotten something.  What was it?  What had Dolly said to him when he saw her this morning?
    Realization began in his stomach with a sour ache and then spread up his esophagus and into his waking mind.  Dolly’s admonition ringing like a bell :
    “Don’t forget we are having the Falsos over to dinner.  Blanco needs to be here to cook and serve.”
    He had forgotten.  Looking guiltily at the dark house, all was quiet.  If Dolly was home, then she was asleep or Synapped into a feature.  If the Falsos had come over for dinner, they were gone now.  Franklin lingered on the steps trying to anticipate the inevitable confrontation with Dolly.  At some point, she must have realized he was not coming home and with no Warmbot servant she cancelled the dinner - possible.
    It was also possible that she stayed upstairs most of the day, bathing, primping , and getting ready for guests.  Then when the time came ( maybe the doorbell was already ringing ) she came downstairs to find no dinner and no Blanco to serve. 
    Only the cold sandwich where he had left it on the kitchen counter . “Franklin Tempo Chicken Sandwich – One for Lunch.”  This scenario seemed more plausible.  
    He tried to think how Dolly would react in this situation.  The door buzzer ringing; t he Falsos standing just outside ; the house empty.
    Something moved. 
    Franklin was distracted from his attempts to mentally reconstruct the dinner party.  There was some slight motion there in the dark, up the street .  There was something in the shadow, unseen and trying to remain unseen.  Franklin held his breathe.  He stared intently into the blackness, willing his pupils to dilate and searching for the outline of a dark shape against a dark backdrop.  There was something there beside s the thick trunk of an Oak .  It was a shape , standing ; standing and not moving.
    Was it part of the tree? Was his mind playing tricks on him?  Why would someone stand on his street, quietly, silently, blending into the darkness, watching and waiting?
    Franklin was afraid.  There was something there.  Something had moved and now it was still.  Something lurking in the darkness.   A Chuppacabra waiting for its chance.   He quietly backed up to his door.  Gingerly stepping up the short steps to the stoop.   Across the street among the blackness of trees there was no motion.  His keys jingled noisily as he fumbled with the lock.  Then it clicked open loudly.  He pushed inside and quickly shut the door behind him.  The door closed loudly.  Much too loudly for this time of night.   Franklin closed the lock, the bolt and the chain.  Then he exhaled.
    “Franklin?” Dolly’s voice ringing down from upstairs.
    A click and light from above began casting shadows down the stairs.
    “Franklin are you home?”  Dolly sounded good, not angry or upset.  Maybe even a little concerned.
    “Sorry to wake you,” Franklin said up to the light on the stairs. 
    He could hear Dolly getting up.  Franklin stepped into the kitchen and turned on the light.  The kitchen was clean, spotless in fact.  If dinner had been cooked and consumed by Dolly and the Falsos there was no sign of it now.
    “Would you like some dinner now?” Dolly asked coming down the stairs.
    “It was wonderful,” she said, “The Falsos were so impressed.  It was all so fabulous, the food,