Theresa
I was on the train to work the other day and had found a seat with no one. I have a method of keeping people away from me on public transportation. I stare straight ahead the whole time with my eyes open as wide as possible, holding them open as long as possible. I fancy that it makes me look like an insane guy. Hell, I know it does. No one and I mean no one will sit near me. Amazing but the crazies stay away. It must be some unwritten code about the “big eyes”. Like some hobo shorthand to stay away. Watch out, there's a big eyed crazy man ready to rip out your throat.
The only thing is you can guaran-god-damn-tee that if another big-eyed fucker gets on the ride they are going to sit with me. Either that or an old person will. Old people are oblivious to the weird vibe. To them the big eyes just mean cataracts. I wonder what they are thinking. “Well that looks like such a nice boy, maybe I’ll speak to him”. Everyone always asks the same thing. “Are you going in college? Stay in school, son, you’ll be glad you did.” I’ve gotten to where I just agree with them so they will shut up. If not people will always tell you the benefits of and education. At least the old people do. The young ones or the poor just stare too. Busses are the best places to just stare. Like prison I imagine. Sitting in a cell all day and staring. The bus is a rolling prison.
I never get a window seat. I purposely sit on the outside. That way it makes it more uneasy for people to sit with you. They are less likely to want to crawl over you. They think something must be wrong with the seat if you are not already on the window. Sitting across the whole seat won’t deter them. That is like a challenge to a stranger. Everyone will want to take your seat. Why should you be comfortable? Same ride to the same place. Yet sometimes I suppose things can change a little.
I had a friend on the bus that day. Well, a friend of Tyler’s. I didn’t expect her there. It just happened. She never rode the bus. I think she had a van. It was kind of a good one if I recollect. Her hair was short and in a neat mod cut. She dressed nice but all of Tyler’s friends did. No matter, she didn’t see me and I didn’t call to her. She was at the front. It was not that I was being coy or rude but I couldn’t blow my cover on the bus. I ride this bus every day and if I muddy my disturbing vibes with ones of salutation the other freaks would be on to me. After all, I was just a freak poser. I’m really sweet inside, way deep though.
The bus came to a stop and the girl got up to get off. I took my time and followed. Jumped off and stayed a few steps back. When the bus had gotten along I called out to her. “Theresa,” I called. I was amazed I remembered her name. At least I thought it was her name. Must have been because she turned around and smiled. “Where in the Hell have you been Paul? My name is Larry, I said. Oh yeah she replied, just kidding. How is the job at the record store? Okay, I said. I worked at the video store but no need to confound things. She and I had actually hung around a lot. Parties, shows, stuff like that. Tyler was always coordinating the movements of all the local freaks. So I suppose it was no surprise she didn’t remember the details. I actually had no idea what she did. I just knew she was pretty cool. She was very extroverted. She would yap and yap. She wasn’t shutting up today. She kept going on about her pet. Normally I would have gotten the hell away when such a droll conversation topic came up but she looked nice. When nice girls talk about anything I stick around.
I was interested a little, I too had a pet. He was a dog named Stan. Stan was very big, and very mean. When I say mean I am talking fighting mean. I took him to the dog fights in an old redneck bar in Gastonia. It was illegal to have dog fights in North Carolina but no one cares about shit in Gastonia. I neglected telling Theresa about how Stan and I spent our free time. She just wouldn’t understand. I asked her what her pet was and she said, “Well, we’ll say he’s a dog to, for now.”
That struck me as odd. What the Hell did she mean? “Let’s say he is a dog.” It’s either a dog or not. Did she mean a pig, a monkey, a cat? A monkey would be fun. I love monkeys to the max. Oh God, I hope it isn’t a man. I could deal with anything but a human being. That would be gross. I’d have to call the cops, I swear I would. It was Gastonia, but, that was too much
I had to reign in my imagination. Theresa was okay. I couldn’t see her going that way. So I asked her if she would like to accompany me to my house and have a beer. She said she was going to have coffee and then see her pet to feed him. She asked me along and I figured it would be a good chance to get to know her.
We stopped at this tiny coffee shop next to an auto parts store and sat down after getting a cup. I was pleasantly surprised she drank it black. It was Kona or Sumatra or some shit like that. It all tastes the same to me, I can’t tell the difference. I sugared and creamed my coffee to death. Only way I can choke it down. I asked her about her pet and she said she would show him to me later if I like. She in turn asked me about my dog fighting hobby. I told her it was a good way to make money and drink beer. Sure it was as violent as spectator sports go but I was too pretty to join a fight club so I let the dog do the work for me. Stan was a great fighter and hadn’t lost yet. She said it sounded inhumane and I countered that when dogs stop fighting just for the Hell of it I would stop exploiting it. After all, I never saw a pit bull at a poetry reading. Apparently it was just what she wanted to hear. She beamed and her eyes lit up. “I am so glad you think that way, wait until you see my little darling.” She was ready to go right then and I wasn’t arguing. This is the most excited I’ve ever seen a girl get around me. I was thinking she must have been a complete lunatic but I liked it. This was my kind of weird. The coffee had done its job and I was on.
We left the Coffee house and decided to walk out to her place. She said none of the city busses ran out that way. The house had been in her family forever and they had never really wanted a city road out to it. We walked for what seemed like forever and finally we arrived. It was Theresa’s house I suppose and if you didn’t know it was here you would’ve never seen it. Everything was overgrown and the house looked like some broken down Hansel and Gretel house. I thought it was completely awesome. Like The Evil Dead meets Candyland. We got to the door and when she opened it an odd smell hit me. The smell was a combination of monkey house and brownies. It was unsettling but actually the place was very neat and well kept. The furniture was definitely that Swedish stuff, nice art on the walls and half-normal. The only things out of place were the two inch thick bars on one of the rooms leading off form the hall. Let me reiterate that, Two inch thick bars. Black pitted Iron bars. “God damn I thought to myself. You just don’t put that in a living room these days.”
That’s where I got freaked out. I was playing over the scenarios of escape in my mind. There’s a door, a window, another window. Hell if the shit hit the fan I’d even try running through the fucking wall. Curley Howard did it on TV a million times. And TV doesn’t lie. I ignored them as best as I could. In typical man fashion I didn’t want to spoil a potential romantic episode with thoughts of the macabre.
Theresa lit some candles. They smelled really nice and actually changed the mood of the place. She said a few words in Spanish into the direction of the bars and I heard this insanely load breathing seeming to come closer and closer to where we were. She began with the Spanish again and the pace of the breathing quickened. What I heard breathing did not sound small. In fact it sounded very very large. The only thing I could imagine it being was a gorilla. I hoped it was a nice gorilla. Like Grape Ape from that old cartoon. Maybe she had a dog that wore a hat too and would drive Grape ape to the grocery store. That would be funny. I amused myself and really started to lighten up. I asked her if what I was hearing was a funny gorilla. She said no, see for yourself. I turned around and the fright that gripped me was paralyzing. I didn’t jump nor run through the wall. I wept, just like a girlie brownie scout. I had no idea that I was, it just came out. Theresa didn’t have a funny gorilla. She had a fucking Chupacabra.
For those of you who do not know, a Chupacabra is a mythical Puerto Rican monster. It is a monster pure and simple, a demonic horrendous beast of the first magnitude. This was not a funny Chupacabra. This was a piece of Hell in the North Carolina suburbs. It resembled a giant Great Dane with a reptile face and scales across the back. His tail was forked and what fur he had was silky and black. She told me to relax and asked if I wanted a drink. I replied “that would be nice, I would like anything sealed.” She got me a beer, which was capped, and said; “Now I would like to talk to you about a proposition.” We went into the kitchen to talk.
I was still astonished that the Chupacabra did not go bats when it saw me. Are they that calm around all humans? Every time I had heard about sightings they had killed animal and man. Popular mythology says that they especially love goats and cattle. They always drain the bodies completely of blood. Kind of a vampire thing going, but these were beasts. This I know is true, vampires were imaginary and that thing in the other room was not. I had to turn away but I couldn’t get the image out of my eyes. I couldn’t shake it from my mind.
How could Theresa be so matter of fact about it? She was just sitting at the table smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer. A demon was in her house yet she pointed to a chair and said, “Make yourself at home.” There I realized what relativity meant. Everything and I mean everything is relative. There is a way to justify everything that there is, was or has ever happened. You could justify a psychopath, a saint, a businessman, a hot weird girl and her monster. She didn’t care. It was so fucked up I was now past the sanity barrier. All of it seemed okay, so very okay. As long as that thing in the other room didn’t kill me I figured all was well. Theresa and I were connecting. Where could we go with this? I was at ease.
She explained she happened upon the Chupa when it was a baby. She was visiting Puerto Rico with her parents and when they had gone to the all night discos there for Americans she had snuck out to the town near the resort. She was 13 and already fearless. Years of traveling and weird pothead professor parents had wizened her in some way out fashion. So she walked around through the village unnoticed. Theresa spoke Spanish and had a few pesos. She went unnoticed Theresa said she wandered passed an alley one evening and heard a strange whimpering. Compelled to help what ever was in duress she followed the sound all the way in. Among the trash she saw what she thought was a small puppy. As he got closer she was amazed to find it was no dog. It was heinous with a mouth full of teeth. It was full of very sharp teeth.
Young Theresa was not scared. Her empathy was much stronger and she took the small animal in her arms. It seemed to smile at her and spit out a human nose. As she described, “It was as if he was giving me a gift to show the immediate bond. It just needed some love”. Apparently it would grow to fill a void in her life. People need something. That’s why I had my roommate Tyler and busses. Her parents were always here and there. They were good folks, like mine, but no one is fulfilled by parents. And if they are, they are the most dangerous people you will ever meet.
Chupacabras are danger. In the lore of the countryside they have never been photographed, captured or seen under pleasant circumstances. My circumstance was that I was with this appealing woman in a house that was half Art student, half dungeon. Somehow I wasn’t alarmed. Maybe it was the beer, but I think it may have been the fact I trusted for once. Yes, I trusted her. After all, if I was to be some sacrifice I think she wouldn’t have wasted the time on telling me her life story. That was more the method of comic book villains. This was a date, yeah, that was it. It was a date with me, her and a minion of Hell.
The plan was discussed and I tell you here and now that I bought into it like the elderly buying vacuum cleaners from a traveling salesman. We would go to the next dog fight, but not with my dog, the local champion. We would enter the Chupa. It would be exquisite. I would go early to place the bet and then Theresa would arrive later. As champion I had the luxury of going last all the dogs would be used up by then and the survivor would be set up to battle.
The only trick was to conceal the fact that we had a monster. I had no idea it could be done but Theresa said she would take care of it. We made a plan to meet Saturday night at midnight at the abandoned Ice Creamery downtown where the fights take place. By then the lion’s share of the fights would have taken place and the bets would be high.
We had a couple of more beers and I left. I actually noted that I was allowed to leave. The Chupa’s gaze followed me out the door.
I didn’t see Theresa for a week. How could I even believe what I had seen? I wasn’t even sure she would show. It was Saturday and I had taken a couple of grand out of my bank account and gone around 10 to place my bets. The guys had asked where my dog was and I told them he was sick and I had my girlfriend’s beast to fight this week. They were frothing at the mouth. In their minds a new dog much less a woman’s dog hadn’t the possibility to be a killer. I was sweating her arrival. If she didn’t I would have to eat the two grand and I could not afford that. I waited outside and smoked a cigarette until her van pulled up. Twenty minutes until twelve. There was a huge crowd inside. If we won my two thousand would make us three times that. If the Chupa killed the opposition there would be another two thousand as a bonus. I felt excitement and dread. That’s all I felt, and it felt pretty good.
It was fortunate that everyone was inside already. I heard the announcer calling upon the contender and Theresa rushed to get her Chupa out. It was an awesome sight. The monster was spectacular in the dim street light. He was clean and brushed. Really a beautiful animal if you could handle the hideous face. The giant had a hideous face and Muscles upon muscle. He moved gracefully and with cold intent. He slinked like a panther yet low to the ground like a lizard. His head was probing in a 90 degree angle with great intent. Theresa spoke to him for a moment in Spanish. It looked at me approvingly and we went to find our way to the makeshift arena.
We walked in and she place smelled of death. There was blood everywhere. Cigarette smoke obscured most of the faces in the stands and beer ran in streams. The place was a madhouse and we stayed to the side. A fat piece of trash in a seersucker suit was announcing the competitor. It was a pit bull named Jerry from nearby Cherryville. I thought the name Jerry was ridiculous but the God Damn dog looked vicious. It was big and brown and blood soaked. I figured it must’ve been the blood of opponents because Jerry looked none the worse for wear. The dog smelled something, though. It was agitated and its agitation grew as Theresa entered. The announcer motioned me over and wanted to know the name of my entrant. I told him it was “Bob”. I couldn’t think of anything else at the moment to call him. He laughed and announced that we would see a “Bob” fight tonight. The crowd laughed but the announcer implored the crowd to stay although he added it should be a short fight. Theresa strolled to the ring and all laughing stopped. A general “what the fuck” emitted from the crowd. The gasp was in unison. It wasn’t because she was the only female in the arena without a tattoo it was because of the Chupa. I have never heard anything like it before or since.
The Chupa was now in light. I mean full-on in the light. No shadows, caves or backs of vans. It was a menacing sight. You could taste the fear, smell it. The face on that beast was the face of Hell. I saw nothing but eyes and teeth. Intent on the prey which I figured was anything living in the building besides Theresa. It was a very unnerving feeling. If the shit hit the fan and that son of a bitch got loose there was a fat guy right near me that would make for a nice human shield. The oddest thing I can remember is that the pit bull that the Chupa was to fight was ready to go. Snarling and gnashing. It was ready for a fight. I had no idea what was going to happen. If the dog wasn’t scared then it must have been very well trained. No rules were announced because there were no rules in these affairs so it was on. On three the leashes would be loosed. One, Two, Three.
The pit bull leaped six feet in the air. He was trained to go right for the neck of any foe. The Chupa waited, reared back and caught the dog in mid flight. The monster’s jaws extended open a foot and caught the dog’s head completely in it. With an efficient snap it then bit the dogs head clean off. The dog's body fell limp to the floor and it was dead silent. A jet of blood soaked the floor. A rich and sticky red liquid quickly pooled. The Chupa then went to Theresa and spit out the head at her feet. She reattached the leash, patted him on the head and collected the money that was laid at the side of the ring. The arena had gone completely quiet. Theresa walked to the exit with the Chupa and I quickly joined her. The man in the seersucker suit came up to us and kept a good distance and in the best Gastonia profanity informed us we were never welcomed back.
We made our way out to the parking lot and retreated to the back of the van. I really wanted to avoid any drunk and pissed rednecks. The Chupa curled up towards the front of Theresa’s van and watched me intently. Theresa handed me three thousand dollars. The represented my initial investment as well as an extra grand. Not a bad haul at all. I asked Theresa when we could do it again. I was ready to go cross country and make a killing. Theresa said there was no way she could and that this was the last time we would see each other. I was stunned. How could she just leave like that? I thought we were really connecting. Even the Chupa seemed to like me.
That’s when I noticed in the feeble dome light of the van that Theresa had really gotten pale. As I stared longer I could start seeing the veins beneath her skin. The blue and red veins were pulsing and making her skin heave. Theresa’s eyes turned dark and blood ran out of her mouth nose and ears. She told me they must leave and it would not be wise for me to stay. I decided that she might have something there. This shit was scaring me. I quickly told her goodbye, good luck and I hoped we would meet again if possible. She only turned away. As I backed out of the vans rear doors the Chupa sat up and poked his wretched face toward me. I was uncertain as to what the monster would do but should’ve figured as much. All he did was say to me, in perfect English, “Stay in school, son, you’ll be glad you did.”
