Taking a piss was harder than forcing a cork off a champagne bottle.
Did my urethra collapse? I pressed against my bladder, trying to deflate it as if it were an air mattress. All the guts below my belly button throbbed, and I rested my head against the wall. Come on.
The single living lily I had rescued, stared at me from the makeshift vase next to the sink. A small gargle cup. How was it still alive? Despite the dried bits of drool and toothpaste crusted to the bottom of the glass, even more buds had started to blossom.
Verona knocked at the door. “You almost done in there?”
My dick looked like a porn actress sucking her stomach into her chest, one who had thrown up so much her throat no longer worked. Would I ever be able to pee again? Sobriety was killing me.
“You better not be shaving your dog,” Verona warned. “You know how much I love a little fur.”
My balls slapped between my legs like door knockers as I tried to relax the muscles in my hips. “Come on,” I muttered. The pressure kept building.
“You know we have a party to get ready for, right?” The door creaked as she leaned against it, and her shadow crept underneath.
Shit. The Halloween party. I forgot.
“Of course,” I said. “Just one second.” I tugged my boxers over my junk. There was no point in trying anymore. It wasn’t going to happen. The waistband snapped against my ballooning stomach. “Fuck.” Pain radiated from behind my belly button like I was digesting needles. Was it possible for your bladder to burst? I flushed the toilet even though there was nothing to flush. My reflection swirled in the clear water before being sucked away.
The side-view framed my skeleton face. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. Verona had done the makeup herself. Large black sockets. A white jaw. Her car hummed down the highway, and the veins in my eyes throbbed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t rub them if I didn’t want to ruin the face-paint.
“Where’s this party,” I asked.
Verona shrugged. “Stacy recommended it.” The large bullet wound painted on the side of her face glistened in the setting sun. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. I couldn’t remember who Stacy was.
As we exited the highway, desert dirt turned into fresh sod and baby trees. The sun was so low in the sky that the shrubs cast shadows longer than they were tall. Each of them pointed in the opposite direction we were heading. Wrong way. Do Not Enter. We took another corner.
Shit. This was the way to Mark’s house.
By the time we got there, the sun had disappeared. People congregated around the yard in packs. Everyone wore different costumes. Werewolves. Hunters. Verona parked in the last available space. Spies.
“Ready?” she asked.
My stomach groaned. I hadn’t been able to pee all day, and the makeup covering my eyelids started to itch. I smiled anyway, keeping my hands in tight fists as I pushed the passenger’s door open.
“Hey,” someone immediately shouted from the lawn. “I love that makeup!” A girl with an orange snout ran up to me. A fox? Her neck gripped her spine like tight plastic, and long white stripes were painted across her chest to accentuate her cleavage. “And Verona!” The fox lady hopped over to touch my girlfriend’s face. “Is that a bullet hole? It looks so real.”
I searched the yard for Mark to better avoid him, but too many people were wearing masks. Down the sidewalk, someone with a giant chainsaw chased someone else in a grizzly bear onesie. On the porch, a fake preacher with a giant wooden cross chatted with a red-faced demon. Next to them, a person with a bloated, purple bruise sucked on a cigarette. His eyes locked onto mine as the orange glow lit up his face. Jimmy? What was he doing here? A girl with matted hair sat beside him, face in lap. Jimmy leaned over to whisper something in her ear.
“Let's go inside,” Stacy interrupted, tugging my wrist. “Mark will be so happy to see you!”
The stereo sputtered techno music that sounded like a humming bird bashing its head against a hollow tree. Were the veins in my eyes collapsing? They ached from the noise, and I had to shove my hands into my pockets to keep from massaging them and ruining my face. As Stacy led us forward, someone with aviators and an earpiece stared down at me. My gut ached.
“—the heat’s been keeping them all asleep, ya know?” a familiar voice said, cutting through the music. It was Mark. He stood in the center of the room, dressed like a cult leader, addressing a group of ghosts, zombie cats, and someone wearing only underwear and bunny ears. “But once this wave breaks, it’s still going to be too late. Shit, some of us may even be under their control right now, for real.” Mark noticed me in the crowd and smiled, his teeth spotted like rotten strawberries. “Remember, we aren’t anybody’s pets!” Those around him nodded, and some even raised their red, plastic cups.
He excused himself and made his way over to us. “Kurt! I thought we lost ya dude.” Mark wrapped his arms around me in some sort of hug, not fully bringing me close. Verona turned her head to keep from laughing as he whisper-yelled into my ear. “Got any coke?”
The orange cigarette glow reappeared, this time from the couch behind Mark. It lit up the girl with matted hair’s face, and flecks of dirt fell from her caked eye sockets. Jimmy stood over her, holding the smoke up for her to suck on and pretending not to notice me.
“Uhh, no.” I said, refocusing my attention. “Sorry.”
Mark didn’t even try to whisper anymore. “Shit, dude. That’s ok. Just let me know when you’ve re-upped.” The cigarette burned brighter. Jimmy was bent over, whispering something in the girl’s ear again. “Dude?” Mark shook my shoulder.
“Uhh, sorry,” I replied. “I don’t sell anymore.”
He looked over my shoulder, noticing Verona, and his face lit up like a jack-o-lantern. “Ohh I gotcha, dude. I see how it is.” He slapped my arm, sloshing the pent up liquid in my bladder back and forth. “So are you going to introduce me?”
A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead, but I blotted it away before it could ruin the face paint. “Uhh, yeah,” I said, nudging my girlfriend. “Verona. This is Mark.”
He extended a hand. “So you’re the one stealing Kurt away from us.” He laughed. “You aren’t government are you?”
Verona looked him up and down like a stink beetle. “Uhh, no. I’m—”
Something slammed into the side of the house, at least, that’s what it felt like. Verona jolted forward, and I stumbled to the ground, banging my knee against the wood floor. “Shit, shit.” Mark shoved past us, pushing me further to the floor, and his stolen road signs shook hard against their walls. Some even started to fall. Watch for Pedestrians. No Passing Zone. I pushed myself up.
“What’s happening?” the half-naked bunny rabbit screamed as she crawled across the ground. People crouched beneath door frames and under tables. Stacy pushed people out of her way as she stumbled through the living room, looking for an unlocked door. More signs slipped from the walls. Wrong Way. Do Not Enter.
Verona grabbed my hand. The couch jerked back and forth as she led me around it. Jimmy had disappeared, and the girl he had been whispering to was gripping the cushions as if the sofa were a mechanical bull. Yield. Yield. Yield. Everyone who wasn’t hiding in the house poured into the hall and out the tilted front door.
My sweaty hand slipped from Verona’s. “Fuck,” I yelled, smashing my knee back into the floor. I had stumbled over someone. Detour. Lane Shift Ahead. It was the body of the preacher with the fake cross. Blood trickled from his nose as he tugged on my ankle to try and get up. Verona kicked him in the gut. No Outlet. Dead End.
Outside, past the bodies, past the falling road signs, and past the tilted door, the sky was bright. Bright, like the earth had cracked open to reveal its molten core. My knee buckled, sending me back down. The dried grass crunched beneath me, and I rolled onto my side, pressing my face into my hands. “Kurt, we have to move!” Verona yanked on my arms, half-dragging me further away from the trembling house and screaming crowd.
The melting face paint burned my eyes. I wiped as much off as I could, while Verona pulled me towards her car, unlocked it, and helped me in. “Watch your knee,” she directed, lifting my leg up for me. She immediately pulled her hand back. Her eyes widened.
“What?” I asked, looking down.
A dark, wet stain grew down the inside of my jeans. Was I bleeding? I shoved my hands into my pants and grabbed down my thigh. Hip to knee. Liquid streamed from the inside of the leg, but there weren’t any cuts or gashes. I gave up, pulling my hand free. It glistened in the car light. Not red. Clear. It smelled like rotten asparagus.