Episode 3: Midnight Snacks

Audio begins.  There are the sounds of mechanical preparation.  Voncid is taking something out of a large case.  It is a pair of leather bladders with tubing connecting them together.  A pump fits to the side.  They are artificial lungs and diaphragm.  It is a shocking sight.

Luca:  what is that?

Voncid:  this- is a device of my own design.  I’ve never given it an official name, but I guess in my head I’ve always thought of it as a bellows.

We hear the device turn on.  It is a slow working pump.  A rattling suction, followed by a raspy exhale.

Voncid:  it isn’t nearly as sinister as it looks.  As you will see when we remove that sheet, tonights interview is missing the majority of his torso.  In cases of even extreme damage, my art can make use of what remains to support a subjects speech, but in the case of the underlying structures total absence… the bellows.

Luca: his torso is missing?

Voncid: Not missing entirely, but hollowed out.  From the gnaw marks on the bones, i’m told it appears something made a meal of poor young Mr. Hanesly, but just a moment and we can hear his account.  We shall wake him and get him talking momentarily.

Preparation begins.  Luca would you hand me the eldswood…

*The audio cuts and returns.  We hear the bellows working, but much quieter (they will cut during the **phone notification cue**)

Marcus Hanesly:  *wheezing, as he adjusts to the bellows*  What… I… I can’t.

Voncid:  Try to remain calm Mr. Hanesly.

Marcus:  Marcus.  Mr. Hanesly is my dad… and a dick.

Voncid:  Certainly. Marcus.

Marcus:  Damn.  What happened?

Voncid:  I was hoping you could tell us?

Marcus:  Oh shit… right.  Wow, I think I died.

Voncid:  I am afraid you are correct.

Marcus:  What assholes.  I can’t… I can’t believe they fucking did that.  They killed me.

Voncid:  Do you recall who, Marcus?  Please, tell us everything you can remember.  You will be revenged.

Marcus:  I don’t really care about that, but yeah, you should probably kill them.  This shit hurt.  A lot.

Voncid:  Tell us what you remember.

Marcus:  Ok… *He is thinking of where to start.  When he decides he laughs softly as the beginning amuses him.*

The pandemic.  

When it started it felt like the end of days.  Everyone said so.  I guess for me, it really was.

I’m an actor, but not a lucky one, which means I am also a server.

I am a server, which in pande-monium times means I am also unemployed.

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to be unemployed in the city, but yeah that doesn’t sail far or straight.

So, I was picking up gigs where I could.  I had a moped, janky little blue scooter thing, perfect for courier work, so that’s what I wound up doing.

I am not sure if you are familiar, but those gigs suuuuck a lot more than you might think.  Flexible hours, they say, but it is not good.  It’s capitalism.  What do you expect.  Any good idea, anything profitable, is screwing someone somewhere.

So, anyways, I’m taking what I can get.  Running ragged.  Fingers to the bone sort of shit.

Then one day, I get a link from a friend.

**We hear a phone alert sound.  This cuts the bellows sounds**

I check it and see it’s one of those links that’s just a series of gibberish computer letters that must make sense to machines, but don’t mean anything to me.

But hey, it’s from a friend, so I click it and boom, takes me to a page with this app download on it.

“Midnight Snacks”

The page is really sparse, just a lot of red and this sweet logo design.  These weirdly full lips and a Big. Toothy. Smile.

I download it and sure enough it's some delivery app, but it’s for late night deliveries only.  Literally after midnight.

Now I’m a night owl, everyone knows this, my friend knows this, I’m sure it’s why they thought of me.

Download is super fast. I click the “delivery drivers wanted” thing and man, it’s really minimal.

It’s got a spot for a paypal, venmo, whatever, and a button to accept a delivery.  It’s sketchily easy to sign up, but hey it’s after midnight, like just after, I’m sober-ish and so, whatever, I click it.  

*we hear a distinct electronic sound*

Boom, a delivery comes in immediately.  It’s some deli i’ve never heard of.  It’s only like three blocks away, the destination is hardly farther, and the delivery fee, like what *I* get to walk away with, is-

I do a double take

Must be seeing things.

Twenty five bucks.

So now I’m sure that this is sketch as hell.  Definitely some kind of drugs thing, or like, am I going to be delivering human organs or some shit?

But man, it’s a friend that I really don’t think would do that kind stuff.

I text them.

[Hey.  You serious with this Midnight Snack thing?  This isn’t some kinda human trafficking deal?]

They text back

[Nope.  I’ve been working them for two nights, made like six hundred bucks.  It’s just weirdo yuppies man, premium for late night and a sick logo.]

[It’s gotta be a scam] i text back

[maybe] they admit [but if anyone is getting scammed it’s the customers not the drivers. I am getting paid.]

So, sure, I think.  Sure.

Peel myself off the couch, splash some water in my face to shake off the gummy and, like, six minutes later I’m at some deli.

Yellow’s Deli.

Terrible fucking name.  Never heard of it despite living three blocks away.  It doesn’t look open, but there is a light on in the back.  Seems like someone is back in the kitchen.

I check the door, it’s open.

I let myself in, making a lot of noise, I don’t want to surprise anyone, so i’m being noisy.

“Hello, delivery driver person here.  I’m here to pick up?”

Nothing.  Place seems deserted.

For a ten count I get scared.  Am I gonna get jumped?  Am *I* getting human trafficked?  How well do I know that “friend” of mine. 

I try calling out again.  “Midnight Snacks” I say into the fluorescent lighting in the back.

When I say that, this… guy, this huge, neckless muscley guy appears.  I don’t know if he was sitting down before and I couldn’t see him behind the deli counter, or if he came out of the back, but this huge dude is suddenly there and I kinda jump.

He’s crazy pale, his eyes are super close together, his lips are really little.  He’s as big as my apartment.  He’s like, insane looking.  Not that he looks crazy, but that it’s crazy to look at him.

Lots of tattoos, a butcher apron and even one of those little white folded paper hat things.  He’s like a cartoon.

He looks, I hate to be mean, but he looks bananas.

But not funny.

This guy was funny looking, but it wasn’t funny.  Like you would never laugh.

I freeze and maybe was thinking of just bailing when he lifts this brown paper bag up onto the counter in this ludicrously big hand, plops it down, gives me a little nod, and then walks into the back though a swinging door.

My heart slowly starts to lower out of my throat.  I tell myself I’m being panicky for no reason.  What did I expect post midnight meat sellers to look like?

I laugh, take the bag, which definitely includes a big container of soup or something because it is sloshing  around.  I take it to my bike.

The bag is pretty heavy, and it’s liquid, so it throws my balance off but five minutes later, I’m at the location.

It’s hard to imagine someone spending that much money not to have to go such a short distance, but hell, money is just nothing to some people.  Maybe they were too high to drive, I don’t know.  

They just gotta have their bucket of soup.

I click the “i’m here” on the app and the front door buzzes.  Which is weird.  I was expecting to get a number to call up, but just boom, buzzed in.  Easy peasy.

The building is really nice on the inside, which is surprising because it was more or less a dump outside.

That’s a thing I’ve heard, really nice places starting to camouflage themselves.  Hiding from the ever impending class war.

Tenth floor.  Narrow long hallways with expensive looking light fixtures.  Really sterile, like walking through an expensive futuristic hospital.

I notice that there is a loooong distance between doorways, these places must be huge.

The “orderer”, orderee?  Client?  I never figured out what to call them, the customer, there I just did, the customer is already standing in their doorway.

White blonde hair.  Skinny.  Wearing … I don’t know how else to describe this: like silvery Ebineezer scrooge pajamas?

But not old.  Younger than me.  I can see this sleek ass apartment behind them, looks like the inside of a Bose speaker or something, I feel extremely old and unsuccessful as I get close. I realize this person is twenty, tops.

They smile as I approach.  I can’t help but think how much like the app logo their smile looks.  Big teeth.

“Hey!  Thanks man.  Very appreciated.”  They say.

I don’t mean to be rude, but their accent is insane.  I have no idea where it is from and I’ve heard a lot of people from a lot of places.

“You are very welcome,” I say, handing off the food, which sloshes in the bag.

Usually that would be the extent of my interaction with a customer, but that accent, I love accents, and I just gotta know.  So rather than waving and heading, I ask.

“Hey, I don’t mean to be rude, but you have a really interesting accent.  Can I ask where you’re from?”

And they smile even bigger, like I just paid them the biggest compliment.

“Europe” they say.

Yeah.

Europe.

Just, all of europe I guess.

So, that is a pretty weird answer, and this has already been a very weird half hour of my life, so I decide not to push it further and I go to leave.

As I do, music starts from inside.  It’s really… it’s off music.  Jarring.  Not the kind of thing I would expect people at home to be listening to.  

“Hey it’s a party, lets fire up our Philip Glass or Michael Nyman!”

So that stops me just long enough that the guy, or maybe it’s a girl, really short hair, anyways this beautiful andorgynous person surprises me.  Puts their finger under my chin, gently.

“Do you want to come in?”  They ask.  “Some friends of mine and I are having a gathering.”

I am stopped cold.  Because, of course I do.

Not only do i really want to see the interior of this place, ask about the accent, the music, but i realize I will get to see what kind of food they ordered.

What is the mystery soup bucket of the day?

I’m curious in all the ways, not to mention this person is really really beautiful and it’s not like I’m on the clock or anything, but, I catch their eyes…

Their pupils are thin

I watch nature documentaries.  They have eyes like a crocodile.  Rich, gold, with just a sliver of a pupil.

And sure, they are contacts, I tell myself, but still, why do I suddenly feel so nervous?

No

Not nervous

I feel afraid.

So I just stupidly shake my head no and watch their big toothy smile turn into a close lipped one and then I hurry down the hall.

I’m in the elevator when my phone blips again.

[Am I available for a delivery?]

This one is from the same deli, Yellows Giant Meat Monster Soup Bucket place and to a building at spot a little further out, must be a building on the river.

Forty five bucks.

As I’m looking at that delivery info, I see I just got a hundred dollar tip from crocodile eyes.

So they were hitting on me, officially.

I hate to admit that a hundred and forty five bucks was all it took to shake off the apprehension I was feeling, but boom, I am back on my bike, waving hello to giant meat monster man, scooting the next order over to the river.

I am following the navigation info when I realize that something must be wrong, because it’s sending me to a big open space with benches and shit between two buildings.

But before I can worry too much more about it, some guy in a brown suit sees me coming and waves me down.

I don’t think I’m supposed to, but it’s all paved and there’s no one around, so I drive right over to him between some street lights and benches.

“Midnight Snacks?” I double check.

The guy nods, practically making a “yum yum” sound under his breath.

I go to hand him the package and when he grabs it, I can see, where he’s touched the paper it immediately darkens.  It soaks through.

I flip the visor on my helmet up to see better and I realize this guy is drenched.

Just a little ways behind him is a railing that guards a drop down into the river and I am thinking he must have fallen in, and just pulled himself out, because he’s soaking wet.

“You ok?” is all I can think to ask him.

He just nods and rubs his stomach.  

I don’t realize I’m doing it at first, but I’m walking my bike backwards.  Super awkwardly, like, waddling it backwards away from him.  The skin is all bruised around his eyes.  

He does not look ok.

As I’m walking my bike backwards, I realize he’s following me.  Not chasing me, but following me.

“Whole order should be in the bag there,” I say, and I’m picking up my pace and noticing what a limp this guy has.

I scoot away as fast as I can without seeming like I’m panicking, this strange wet man just fixed on me as I go.

He tips thirty bucks.

Everything is like that.

Super weird at least, kinda scary at worst.

I work every night that week, deliveries only run a few hours after midnight, but I make nearly three grand.

It turns out serving extremely creepy people is super lucrative.

I pick up a bag and drop it off with a really really tall guy outside a hospital, which is weird.

I bring this order that just reeks to a bunch of guys on a front stoop who bark and howl and chase me as I drive off, which was kinda scary.

I put a really heavy bag from Yellows, there were other places, but it was mostly pickups from Yellows, into a basket.  Some lady wearing a huge fur coat with the craziest dreadlocked hair I’ve ever reels it up to a third floor window like it weighed nothing.  Weird.

I decided to stop though.

It was a guy who dropped his order that made me want to stop.

I handed a package off to a really rough looking guy covered in tattoos in an alley.

He had this wild black spider web hair and huge round eyes.  

Crazy eyes.  I-a-see-a-lot-a-lot-of-white-all-the-way-around-the-eye kind of eyes.

He was shaky, and I am a little worried about him as I drive off, so I look back.

Sure enough he had dropped his order.  Whatever it was spilled out all over.

In an instant he’s down on all fours. Chewing and licking whatever it is out of the dirt, mud and broken glass.

So… *takes a breath to shake off the horrible memory*

I figure whatever the money is, it isn’t fucking worth that shit.  It’s drugs, it’s gotta be drugs.

I don’t care what my friend says anymore, it’s gotta be drugs…

You know, now that I think about it, I’m having trouble picturing this friend of mine… shit.

Were they in my phone as “friend”?  I can’t remember their name.

I decided I was done, and I ignored all the blips and bleeps from my phone.

I should have deleted it.

I think somewhere in the back of my mind, I imagined a scenario where I really needed the money.  A scenario where 

*is ashamed to admit it.*  

it might be worth it again.

I made a mistake.

Because sure enough, eventually an order comes through.

I recognize the order.  Yellows Deli, to that building with the sterile hallways.

Crocodile eyes.

*sighs*

A thousand dollars.

I don’t know if people are going to hear that recording you are making, but if they do, they are going to say i’m stupid and yell at me like i always yelled at people in horror movies.

Well if you’ve ever been poor, like really desperately poor…

Forget it.

*Marcus gets emotional.  He’s hurt remembering how he let himself down, and made a decision that cost him his life for money.*

Everyone thinks about what they might die for, right?  Love, family…

A thousand bucks.

Doesn’t cut it.

Money.

I don’t know if there’s a right amount, but it isn’t a thousand bucks.

But I went.

The big meat monster guy at Yellows smiles at me for the first time.  He’s got this crazy underbite and teeth like domino pieces, I would have remembered if he had ever smiled at me before.

I don’t need navigation to find the building.

I’m buzzed up before I can even get my phone out.

They are waiting at the door.

I realize as I hand over the bag how light it is this time.

“Would you like to come in?” they say in that crazy accent.

I go to say no but I say yes.

I go inside.

There’s six of them, they all look similar, different shades of angular and beautiful.

I realize one of them is naked.

I hear crocodile eyes opening the brown paper bag.

All that’s in it is plastic tarp.

I finally get my body to do what I wanted it to.  It was like i woke up from sleepwalking.  I ran for the door, but man, you’ve never seen fast like they were.

Boom.

They are all over me.

Their hands are sharp.

Their mouths open so wide…

Voncid:  That’s enough friend, 

*we can hear the bellows working again* 

Thank you for telling us the last part of your story.

Marcus: Sure.

Voncid: We will find them.

Marcus: Sure.

Voncid: do you mind if I take one of your fingers?  

Marcus: yeah, I’m not using them.

Voncid: thank you.  

*the magic is dismissed and the artificial lungs hiss to a stop.  There is a bit of silence before Luca clears his throat.*

Luca: *Ahem.*  why did you want one of his fingers?

Voncid: so I can use it to open his phone.

*we hear the phone unlocking.*  

What luck, the Midnight Snack app is still here.

Hmm.

What do you think Luca, are we available to make a delivery?