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The dining room and basement beyond were out of the question. She turned around, and looking across the room she saw the foyer that Missy had entered from. The front door and escape were just beyond her sight, but looking back over her shoulder, Dani saw that the foyer was in line with the dining room. If she climbed her way toward the foyer, she risked being seen from where she knew Missy was. It wasn’t a risk she wanted to take.

  Dani continued to circle as she looked for another way out. Between two towering bookcases across the room, Dani saw a stack of furniture that stood nearly ten feet tall, much of it sideways and upside down. She focused harder on the furniture pile, and noticed light was shining between the interlocked legs and wood panels.

  The furniture was jammed together in a hallway. The entrance was heavily blocked, but it was still a hallway, and a possible way out of the living room.

  Dani had her destination, and she started for it, heading around the edge of the nest. She nearly passed another cat in a cage that was obscured by old speakers leaning against two sides and a sheet of webs over the front bars. Dani stopped for it, tearing through the webs with no hesitation to open the cage, furious that this cat had to keep the constant company of spiders and other pests.

  On further consideration, spiders might make for better company than Missy. What Dani had witnessed of Missy’s behavior while being trapped in the nest with her for a few minutes had been shocking. You only had to look around Missy’s house and at the neglected cats to know she wasn’t right in the head. To see Missy’s psychoses in action - her boisterous bullying, her delusional fantasies, her molesting fingers and tongue – painted a far more terrifying picture of her. The kind of painting done by John Wayne Gacy. It might look like a happy clown, but it was hiding something far more sinister under its smiling surface.

  Dani sought her escape as the cat did the same.

  Missy swallowed a big mouthful of chewy goodness, in a state of ecstasy. Her head was tilted up, her eyes were closed, and she let out a low moan. Her pleasure was so great, it was becoming an erotic moment. She always ate for gratification, never for nutrition. Missy knew her pleasure eating gave her great curves. All them nutritionist nuts looked like sickly string beans. What was so healthy about that?

  Missy lowered her head and noticed that Keith had not taken a bite of his sandwich, the most delicious sandwich in the world that she had put so much love, not to mention hard work and lots of money, into making for him.

  “Eat up!” Missy encouraged him.

  “No thanks, I…”

  Missy seized Keith’s right wrist in a vice grip. All he had to do was take one bite and he’d see how yummy it was, and then he’d gobble the rest and give her a kiss smack on the lips for it. His breath might smell like ham, but that was okay. She loved ham, too!

  Missy pushed Keith’s hand and sandwich toward his mouth. His arm resisted her, but she was fourteen inches taller and one hundred forty-two pounds heavier than him. She had no problem guiding his hand exactly where she wanted it to go.

  “We don’t waste food here. Eat it, it’s good for you.”

  “Not good!” Keith cried.

  Keith pursed his lips closed when the ham sandwich came upon them. Missy knew a way to open his lips. She stomped on Keith’s left foot as hard as she could. He opened his mouth to yell and Missy stuck the sandwich where it was meant to go. She shoved it in as much as she could so he could get the most flavorful bite possible. A protein pellet climbed out from between the bread and ran up Keith’s face.

  “Bite before you choke on it.”

  Keith bit through the bread and meat, yellowish mustard juice running down his chin. Missy freed Keith’s wrist. He’d finish the sandwich now for sure. And he better. This was turning out to be far more work than she intended. This was like teaching a baby how to eat.

  “There you go! Chew it good.”

  Keith chewed, and chewed, and chewed, and Missy got irritated with his squished up face. He was trying to pretend he didn’t enjoy it!

  “Swallow.”

  Keith gulped the big bite down. Bigger than Keith’s grimace was Missy’s grin.

  “See? Wasn’t that yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy?”

  Missy closed her eyes and took another joyous bite of her syrupy sandwich. She was so excited that they were eating together, her bosoms tickled. She didn’t notice Keith’s reply, which was a retch.

  Keith dropped his ham sandwich, shivering with nausea. Missy was watching.

  Oh, that ungrateful little punk, Missy thought as her mirthful eyes took on a hard glare. She spoke with her mouth full, which was allowed because she had something important to say. She sprayed little bits of her sandwich into his face, and she hoped a chunk would land in his mouth so he could eat that, too.

  “You will eat my sandwich.”

  Keith made a yuck face as he spit out two words. “Can’t. Poison.”

  “We don’t waste here. Pick it up.”

  This boy was turning into a sniveling scallywag, and he did what all scallywags do, he tried to slither away from her. He hadn’t finished a full turn before she got her hand around his left wrist. He was forcing her to hold him tighter.

  “Pick! It! Up!”

  Missy increased her grip and liked the feel of grinding tendons and bones. She heard and felt a satisfying crack in Keith’s wrist.

  “Okay!” the scallywag cried.

  Missy relaxed her grip but didn’t release her hold on him. He wasn’t going to wiggle his way away from her. She allowed him to squat and retrieve the ham sandwich off of the floor. The sandwich had stayed together during its fall. That was because Missy made her sandwiches with love and magic.

  Missy saw Keith looking at his rescued ham sandwich, and then she saw that sandwich flying right at her. She felt the cold, wet slap of her jiffy meal right in her face. In her surprise, he got out of her grip.

  Keith spun away from his captor. Missy delivered a right hook to Keith’s face from behind, and she watched him drop onto his back. Her left hand never lost hold of her sandwich.

  Missy knew she could knock some sense into this one. She held out hope that they could be friends, special friends. She just had to calm him down and show him how things worked in her house. Plus, she wanted to rub it in a bit and show him what a treat he was missing.

  “If you won’t eat with me, you can just sit there until I’m finished.”

  Missy stepped over Keith’s head and sat down. Keith instinctively lifted his injured left hand in protest and she sat on that, too. Whatever had cracked in his wrist before now broke. She felt the break, between her legs, and that was also satisfying. He squirmed for freedom and breath between her muscular thighs.

  Missy squirmed too as she consumed the rest of her chocolate syrup and peanut butter special. She moaned from the sensations. Her tingles were getting lower. She was rubbing… it… in!

  Missy licked the dark brown syrup off of her fingers with a satisfied smirk.

  “So good,” Missy moaned. Now that she was finished with her jiffy meal, it was time to entertain her playmate again. She stood up and looked down at his sweet face.

  Keith remained on his back, gasping for air and gurgling blood. His already busted nose was further flattened. His left hand rested by his head, cocked at an awkward angle at the wrist. Missy figured he was just playing possum with her, which wasn’t nice. He should be showing appreciation for her hospitality and home cooked meal.

  “I told you I don’t waste,” Missy reiterated.

  Missy picked up the fallen ham sandwich, which was glued together with its special sauce. She sat back down on the same seat. Keith’s head shook in protest until the weight of Missy’s ass settled on it.

  Missy took a bite of Keith’s forfeited sandwich. It was so good she wondered why she had offered it away in the first place.

  “That’s delicious! Your loss,” Missy directed down between her legs.

  Missy continued to consume the second sandwich, stopping to gigg
le when the tickling down below got too great. He wasn’t going to get any of her yummy-yummy sandwich, but he just might get gravy on his face! Missy wiggled, and then disappointment set in when he slowed down beneath her. She thought a young whippersnapper like him shouldn’t tire out so easily. Must be all those video games kids played today, that was what they always said on those catty TV shows she watched and swore by.

  It never occurred to Missy that he might be suffocating.

  Missy took the final two bites together, wiping her messy hands on her clothes. She never forgot to wipe her hands off after she ate. She prided herself on being a clean person.

  Missy stood up from her meal, fully gratified, and looked down at her guest. He was no longer squirming. In fact, he didn’t appear to be moving at all. She thought he looked adorable all sleepy like that, like a baby kitten. That was good because she was planning on seeing him sleeping every night now, right next to her in her majestic bed.

  “You can nap now, Keith. We’ll find your Fiddlesticks later. I need a drinkie-poo.”

  Missy looked around and found an overturned fountain drink with the lid and straw intact. She grabbed the cup and slurped the mystery liquid until she reached the hateful bubbling at the bottom. It was never enough.

  Missy tossed the empty cup to the side, where all garbage went, its proper place, and looked down at Keith. She realized that she had just called him Keith even though he had told her his name was Steve.

  Now she knew exactly who this silly goose was, and she could hardly wait until after his naptime to ask him why he had fibbed to her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dani’s climb toward the hidden hallway was slowed by her need to be quiet. There was silence coming from the kitchen, and that worried her more than hearing Missy’s grating, shouting voice. She knew one wrong step could set off another collapse of potential death dealing dominoes or reveal her whereabouts to the heinous homeowner. She could not let that happen. The cats needed to be saved, and Will’s death needed to be avenged.

  As Dani came upon the hallway, her hopes were soured, and all she could say was what she smelled. “Shit.”

  The hallway looked long, at least thirty feet, and every foot was packed tight with furniture. Dani saw sofas, bookcases, tables, chairs, a walker, and a grade school desk, and that’s just what she could see up front. She did see light coming from the other side, so the hallway led somewhere, and there were a few crawlspaces visible.

  Dani thought somebody as thin and slight as her or Ian might possibly get through this stuffed tunnel, but Missy could never follow through. She had to give it a try.

  Dani grabbed onto the nearest chair leg and gave it a tug. As the chair shifted out of place, a table fell down behind it to fill the void, and suddenly every piece of furniture up front was shifting, one crawlspace collapsing. Worse yet was the sound of wood banging on wood. She hoped it wasn’t heard in the kitchen, but there was little hope of that.

  “No way.”

  Dani turned back to the living room, defeated. She heard banging from the kitchen. It sounded like Missy was on the move.

  Dani’s defeat became panic, which was better because it urged her into motion. She looked around the living room with intense concentration. Perhaps she had missed something, or maybe she could find a better hiding spot as Missy passed through.

  Dani thought of the basement, which had also seemed without an exit at first. They had found a hidden staircase, and she realized that’s what was missing. From outside, Missy’s house stood two towering stories or more, so where were the stairs to the second floor? The staircase in most houses was located in the living room.

  Dani’s eyes picked out levels in the hoard ahead and a path clarified before her eyes, like a blurry image coming into focus. Her way out of this room would be a way further into the house.

  Across the room from Dani was a mountain of clothing that appeared to reach the ceiling, and the peak disappeared into a dark hole. Similar to the basement, the stairs to the second floor had been swallowed by the hoard, which in this room was the hamper of the house.

  Dani was immediately on the move toward the slope. Perhaps upstairs would lead to some other staircase or exit, even a second floor window that she could jump out of.

  Dani heard more noise from the kitchen, what sounded like pots and pans banging together, closer than before. Dani stopped her advance to take a look back. She knew one bad step forward without her eyes on her path could trigger a fatal collision.

  Missy was not yet in sight. The next noise sounded like the kicking of a cage, coming from the dining room. Missy was definitely heading in Dani’s direction.

  Dani continued to climb toward the slope of clothing. She hurried as fast as she could over the shifting hoard, no longer caring about making noise. She came upon another cat in a cage, the prisoner moving to the front bars and meowing for release. Dani could not spare the few seconds to open the cage door and free it, and it broke her heart.

  “Sorry,” Dani said as she passed the cage. She promised herself she would come back later and make sure this cat received its release. She just had to get out of Missy’s sight to make that happen. She had to free herself from Missy’s cage first.

  When Dani reached the bottom of the hidden staircase, she looked to the top and saw this slope was just as steep as the basement stairs, only more slippery with its carpet of loose clothing. She momentarily wondered whether Missy’s habit of burying her staircases was a symptom of her hoarding, or something more nefarious, like hiding escape routes from trapped people. Dani looked back again.

  A box tumbled from the dining room into the living room, presaging Missy’s arrival. Considering the living room was a few feet higher than the dining room, the box must have been propelled by Missy’s fist.

  Dani began her crawl up the clothing slope. The surface was just as unstable as she feared, causing her to slip repeatedly. Missy’s voice boomed behind her in the living room.

  “I’m so thirsty!”

  Every few steps Dani climbed she slid back one, not that any steps were visible beneath her. Her speed made her sloppy, but she gained elevation, the top lip of the clothing slide closing in distance. Dani risked a glance down to the side, and she could see Missy’s lower half climbing over the living room hoard, likely heading for her nest. Dani looked back up at her destination and did not slow until she crawled over the top edge.

  Dani stood and observed the corridor before her. The long hallway had two doors on the left, one door on the right, and an open door at the end. Dani was not the least bit surprised to find this corridor as packed with junk as every room beneath her.

  Missy climbed down into her nest. She fished through the plastic bags from tonight’s aborted shopping excursion (due to that horrible Mrs. Cunt-ter, she thought with a giggle but would never dare say aloud, because she was a classy lady) until she found what she was looking for, a two-liter bottle of Freshie’s Fruit Punch.

  “I love my Red!” Missy exclaimed as she took a seat.

  Missy broke the seal and unscrewed the cap, tossing it aside. There would be no need to recap this bottle; she was thirsty. Missy chugged, and chugged, and chugged some more. A thin line of fruit punch ran down her chin, and her tongue followed in an attempt to catch every escaping drop. The drops that got away did a suicide plunge off of her chin and splattered on the jutting rocks of her breasts, staining the fabric of her shirt in bright red splotches. Her shirt bore the evidence of many prior food and drink suicides.

  Missy let loose a juicy (and fruity) belch as she tossed the bottle aside into her ever filling nest. She looked instinctively up at the spot where her TV was supposed to be, and she was disappointed that she’d have to wait until the next Late Bird Sale to get the lowest television purchase price. That was a long wait, so maybe she’d have to borrow the one currently in use upstairs. It was so quiet and boring downstairs without one.

  Luckily, she wouldn’t be bored for long. Once her bo
yfriend was finished with his nap, he’d come find her and they would play. But she wouldn’t be surprised if he asked her for something to eat first.

  Once Ian could no longer hear any conversation from the kitchen, followed by Missy’s bulldozer style departure back into the house, he dropped down off the basement high beam onto a slippery slope.

  The recently disturbed slide of garbage shifted beneath his feet, as he’d feared it might. His decision to land facing the basement doorway proved to be a bad one as he fell backwards, landing hard on his back. He started to slide down head first, unable to see what was in his path.

  The top of Ian’s head hit the edge of a cardboard box, and his right shoulder clipped the sharp edge of the fallen radiator that was delicately balanced on the cracked table edge. Ian’s hands could not stop his slide, so he cupped them over the back of his head to prevent any more cranial damage. It also kept his camera cap on as he slid. He knew this would make some awesome footage.

  Unbalanced by Ian’s passage, the radiator began to roll down the remainder of the slope.

  Ian reached the bottom of the slide headfirst. He sat up and saw he had seconds to live. The cartwheeling radiator was coming down right on top of him. The metal box hit a fallen hat rack that was sticking out over the path. Miraculously, the hat rack stopped the radiator’s descent. It looked like a toothpick holding up a boulder.

  Ian looked stunned at the radiator balancing above him, and then he noticed the hat rack was starting to bow downward.

  Ian rolled his body to the left as the hat rack snapped. The radiator finished its fall and landed where Ian had stopped moments before.

  Ian looked at the radiator and the plume of dust that was rising around it. He counted his blessings, since this radiator was a lot heavier than the television that had killed Will. He and his friends had been inside Missy’s house for less than an hour, and death by hoard had been nipping at their heels the entire time. How was Missy able to survive in this death trap, year after year, decade after decade? Her luck was disgusting.