Larry

Short Fiction

Dearest Penguin People,

If you read my previous story, “Armadillo Annie,” then you will be familiar with Larry. This is another piece, exploring the home life of a well-meaning germaphobe…

Image made on Canva…

Larry Payne typed in the dark, his face glowing in the gleam of a laptop. He missed the sound of typewriters and uttered a soft “plink, plink, plink,” with every tap. He was tempted to turn on the lamp but then he would see the light film of dust on the desk and on the wooden floors beyond. It would be so easy to abandon the keyboard for the alluring call of imported cotton flannel cloths or even better, the delightful whimsy of a feather duster. Just thinking of them made his mouth dry. He turned on the lamp and reached for that special drawer.

“What are you doing?”

Larry kicked the desk drawer shut, hiding a tantalizing assortment of cleaning supplies.

Autumn appeared in a swoosh. Other ghosts faded in and out with little fuss. But Autumn always made her presence known with the soft rustle of a curtain or a chill breath on the cheek. And now she stood framed in the moonlit window, arms crossed across her thin frame.

“You’re looking especially resplendent tonight,” Larry said.

“That goes without saying.” Autumn patted her hair, the silver threads swept up in a bun. Her clear eyes leveled on Larry. “You were going to polish the desk, weren’t you? Or perhaps vacuum the curtains?”
“No, I dropped my pen.”

“You’re using a keyboard.”

“Oh, silly me.”

“You’re being a baby. It’s just one lousy week.”

Larry managed a weak smile. “I was merely going to do a little tidying up.”

“Like yesterday when you cleaned the basement?”

“Exactly.”

“Normally people don’t clean their neighbor’s basements without permission. You’re lucky Mr. Frinkle didn’t call the police.”

Larry slumped back in his chair. “I was only going to clean his windows. Then I noticed the dust bunnies going rampant on his bookshelves. They were planning a coup. You know how it starts. First, it’s dust, then it’s mold, then complete anarchy.” He played with the laptop mouse, watching the cursor go in circles on the screen. “Besides, I had permission.”

Autumn raised her razor thin eyebrows.

“I did,” he said. “Eugenia let me in.”

“She’s been dead for six years.”

“Like that matters.” He closed his eyes. “Don’t you understand? I need to chase the dust away before it eats me.”

Autumn’s bun began to fray. Gossamer moonlit strands fell around her shoulders. She leaned in and whispered. “If it eats you, I’ll bring you back. But until then, no dusting, mopping, or scrubbing. Doctor’s orders.”

Then a soft chime from his laptop. Larry opened his eyes. LordArchieTheSupremeGod01 had logged in.

“Who is that?” Autumn asked.

“My assigned writing buddy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Part of my therapy is to get a hobby. The doctor suggested an online writers’ group.”

Autumn looked over his shoulder. “That’s an odd looking screen.” Diaphanous shapes in shades of gray and red rippled across a black background. Soft moans emanated from the speakers.

“He said to meet him here at this fancy website.”

Autumn pursed her lips. “Why is there a picture of a naked woman in the corner?”

“Someone’s cousin? I don’t know. She looks cold.”

Autumn buried her face in her hands.

The screen flashed.

LordArchieTheSupremeGod01: Hey Butthead, are you there?

“Answer him, Larry.”

“But…”

LordArchieTheSupremeGod01: Look weirdo. I see you. Your dumb ass too good to talk to me?

“I’m going to regret this.” Larry set his fingers to the keys.

Geshundheit88: I’m here. Please refrain from insults. This is a safe space.

A stream of profanity filled the screen. The moaning upgraded to yowls of despair.

“That’s it. I’m leaving.”

“No Larry, don’t.”

“But Autumn, he’s obviously a sociopath.”

“You don’t know that.”

Larry’s fingers trembled over the keyboard.

“Just one night. Tomorrow you can request a new partner.”

“Eh.” His fingers twitched. “Fine.”

Geshundheit88: A bit of a rough start. I’m going to use chat to make this easier.

LordArchieTheSupremeGod01: Whatever.

Larry clicked on the microphone. “Can you hear me?”

LordArchieTheSupremeGod01: Yes Butthead, I can hear you.

“There seems to be some confusion. My username is Geshundheit88, not Butthead."

There was a crackle and hiss. A voice like a frog talking from the bottom of a rusty bucket croaked over Larry’s speaker, “That’s a stupid name.”

“It means eternal good health. A pipe dream, if you will.”

“I don’t get it.”

Larry took a deep breath. “Gesundheit is German for good health and 8 is the symbol for infinity.”

“You’re boring and a dweeb. This is going to be awful.”

“You don’t say?” Larry muttered.

“Okay Butthead88, let’s get this over with. You look at my story first.”

Larry made moon eyes at Autumn, his fingers hovering over the power button.

She smiled sweetly, like a cobra eyeing a mouse. “Toodles!” She disappeared in a spray of shimmering ectoplasm.

“Butthead, are you there?”

Larry sighed. “I’m here. Show me what you’ve got.”

A link appeared, flashing orange with spurts of red bleeding from the letters.

“How are you doing that?” Larry asked.

No answer.

“Fine.” He pressed the link. More moans. A Word document appeared, the letters growing and shrinking, breathing on the screen. He read the title out loud. “The Infinite Pit of Despair and the Dark Thereafter.”

“Awesome, huh?”

“Lovely,” Larry said. “Philosophy? Motivational?”

“Oh geez, no. It’s a children’s book.”

Larry’s jaw ached. He realized he was grinding his teeth. “You don’t think that’s a little intense for younger readers?”

“Can’t coddle them forever.”
Larry skimmed over the text. “Oh, my,” he said. “Dante’s guide to the ten circles of hell.” He scrolled down. “With pictures no less.” The color fled his cheeks. He closed the document. “Why ten?”

“I added one.”

“Of course, you did.”

“What do you think?”

“I think you need help.”

The screen flashed and wailed. Fire melted the corners of the screen.

“Seriously, how are you doing that?”

“I am Lord Archie the Supreme God. I am impotent.”

“You mean omnipotent?”

“You dare correct me?”

“No, not at all. I think you got it right the first time. Here, why don’t you look at my story.” Larry pressed send.

Silence. The screen pulsed, then became a solid shade of red. The sound of wailing grew louder with the occasional shriek thrown in for good measure.

“YOU WROTE ABOUT BUNNIES?”

“Never underestimate a bunny.”

“I’M GOING TO PUKE.”

“Please don’t. I just cleaned.”

“YOU’LL PAY FOR MAKING ME READ SUCH DRIVEL.”

The screen became a swirl of shadow and smoke. A Word document flashed red…waiting.

“OPEN IT.”

“I don’t think I should.”

Dink. It downloaded.

“Hey, I didn’t click anything.”

The screen stretched and groaned, emitting prolonged yowls and lamentations of the eternally forsaken.

Therapy be damned. Larry pressed the power button on his laptop. Merciful silence.

Phew.

The air shifted, leaving an oily feel, as if a hundred spoiled anchovies had just gone up in a burst of putrid splendiferousness. He gagged and stumbled out of the den. He heard the crash of a trashcan being overturned in the garage and then a series of squelchy splats as if someone was bouncing Play-Doh. The image of garbage spread out across his pristine floor, newly mopped, and waxed just yesterday was too much.

He rushed down the stairs and flung the garage door wide. It was worse than he imagined.

A squat, slimy poltergeist, looking ever so much like a radioactive toad, hovered in the center of the garage. He was attacking Larry’s cleaning supplies with a gardening trowel and intermittently bouncing off the walls.

“Stop that!”

The poltergeist picked up a mop and began eating it like a carrot.

“What are you going to do about it, Butthead?”

The temperature plummeted.

“Oh, it’s not me you need to worry about.”

Autumn appeared in a flurry of sleet and hail, ice flying from her fingertips. She extended a pale hand toward the spirit cowering beneath her, her eyes sparkling like burnished glass. The glass darkened into deep wells as she looked beyond the garage to the gray spaces that only she could see. She smiled.

“Eugenia, may I borrow you for a moment?”

Another ghost appeared, prim and gaunt, with sensible shoes that could kick you into tomorrow. She followed Autumn’s outstretched hand and grinned, her lips curling and wrapping around her head until they tied themselves into a knot. She steepled her fingers.

“Archibald Gribble.” Her voice came from the ether, a whisper ripped from the fabric of every nightmare he had ever had. She strode toward him, gibbering shadows nipping at her heels.

Lord Archie the Supreme God turned into a puddle.

Larry watched from the door, hands in his pockets. “I’m rooting for you, buddy.”

“Shut up.”

Archie pulled himself up, shaking in his gelatinous feet. The shadows gathered around him, sniffing his head, nibbling his neck. “Be gone. I am The God of Darkness. Bow before me,” he squeaked.

Larry coughed into his hand.

Eugenia’s eyes became dark hollows. Flames licked the insides clean until only bone remained. “You hear that, Autumn? This delinquent is trying to take my job.”

Archie gulped. “You mean you’re the real…”

They hovered over him, shaking their heads. “This really won’t do,” they said.

“Larry, help.”

But Larry was too busy sweeping up spilled coffee grounds.

Autumn spun around. “Put. The. Broom. Down.”

“But.”

Autumn shook a hooked, white finger in his face. “This is Archibald’s mess.” She picked Archie up by the scruff of his wrinkled neck. “He is going to clean it up, all by himself.”

“I will not.” He dangled in her icy grip, feet kicking.

“And then,” Eugenia said, we’ll go to Mr. Frinkle’s house to clean his basement.”

“Wait. Why would the God of Darkness want me to clean someone’s basement?”

Larry dropped the broom. “What’s that now? Why is he allowed and I’m not?”

Autumn handed Archie to Eugenia. She shooed Larry out the door. “We’ll take care of this.”
“But…”

Behind them Eugenia was telling Archie, “Then we’ll reorganize his attic. The clutter there is abysmal. We’ll have a marvelous time. You can catalogue all his letters and family photos alphabetically and then by date.”

Archie reached out to Larry. “Help me.”

“Really Autumn, I mustn’t turn down this poor soul in need.”

Autumn closed the door with a wave of her hand.

“Butthead, come back! I’ll write that stupid bunny story with you.”

Larry pouted in the living room, scuffing his loafers on the carpet. Then he took a breath. Who was he to begrudge two retired public-school teachers a little bit of fun?

With the house suddenly quiet, it dawned on him. He was finally alone. He sprinted up the stairs. It was the perfect time to clean a certain home office of encroaching dust bunnies.

He heard them first, a slight rustling of whiskers against lampshades, plushy feet hopping from desk to the couch. He opened the door.

The bunnies turned their heads, leveling dead, gray eyes on him as he stood in the doorway. They opened their mouths, a glint of fangs showing in the lamplight.

Larry pushed up his sleeves with a smile. “My, what long teeth you have.”

If you have the inclination…