Suckers - Jack Kilborn [23]
“Ha ha,” said Roger. Then he raised his voice. “Jarvis Taywood, if you’re here, show yourself! Reveal your spectral presence to us mere mortals! Let us gaze upon your ectoplasm from the other side!”
Nothing happened.
Roger frowned. “Well, he’s just being a snot.”
“Maybe you weren’t loud enough.”
“Yo, Jarvis Taywood!” Roger shouted. “Come on out! Here, ghostie, ghostie, ghostie! Here ghost, c’mon boy!” He let out a dog-calling whistle.
“You know, if his ghost really did haunt this place, you’re screwed in the afterlife.”
Suddenly Roger turned toward the doorway. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Shhh!”
“Sorry.”
“Shhh!”
We were both silent for a long moment. “I heard something downstairs,” Roger said.
“Probably just something trying to force its way into our plane of existence. Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t know what it was. I’m gonna go check it out.”
“All right, you go downstairs and get killed, I’ll investigate up here some more. Meet you in purgatory.”
“Sounds good,” said Roger, leaving the bedroom and heading downstairs. I wandered around the room some more, not quite sure what I thought I was looking for, considering that we were just here on a lark. A stupid lark, at that.
I walked out of the bedroom and investigated the bathroom, which was a hotbed of non-existent paranormal activity. The other bedrooms were just as empty. Still, I couldn’t deny that there was something decidedly eerie about this place. I half-expected to see the words “LEAVE OR DIE!!!” appear in blood on the wall at any moment.
I nervously turned around and glanced at the wall behind me. There were no words in blood, not even an ad.
Why was I so creeped out all of a sudden? And why wasn’t I more ashamed of myself for getting creeped out?
“Hey, Roger!” I called out. “What’d you find?”
No response.
“Here, Roger, Roger, Roger! C’mere, boy!” I said, letting out a dog-whistle.
Still nothing.
Great. As if he hadn’t regressed enough by dragging me out here in the first place, now he was playing obnoxious teenager pranks. If I walked downstairs looking for him, he’d probably leap out at me from behind that ugly couch. What a dork.
I briefly considered turning the tables on him, letting out a scream of terror and faking my own death (or something comparable). But then I figured that if he actually had heard a noise, it might have been Mrs. Whatever and the kids. Most likely, they were all plotting against me right now, but I didn’t want to scare the kids, at least not in a fake-my-own-death kind of way.
In a moment of maturity I decided to just walk downstairs and let them jump out. No sense letting things get out of hand. I’d already put myself at more than enough risk of getting in trouble tonight.
I casually walked down the stairs, which did creak this time. “Okay, Roger, no more free Froot Loops at my place if you don’t come out right now.”
He didn’t answer. I headed toward the sofa, keeping close to the wall so that hopefully I could see behind it before he decided to jump out at me. But he wasn’t there.
I checked the dining room and kitchen, including the pantry. No sign of him.
I quickly checked the rest of the downstairs area.
Nothing.
Fine. So he left me. I opened the front door, which let out such a loud creak that I wondered if he really could have gotten out without my hearing it.
I walked outside, shutting the door behind me, and went over to the van, which I was almost surprised to find was still there. Becky’s mom rolled down her window. “Have fun?”
“Oh, gobs. Did Roger come out here?”
She shook her head. “Not that I saw.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” She certainly looked believable enough, but I wasn’t about to discount anyone from Roger’s sinister plan.
“Well, then, he’s just being a doofus,” I said, walking around and getting in the van. “What about you guys?” I asked, looking back at Theresa, Kyle, and Becky. “Have you seen Uncle Roger?”
“Not me!” said Becky.
“Not me either!” said Theresa.
“I haven’t! I haven