Old Gregg (A Horror Parody)

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Old Gregg (A Horror Parody)

Post by MementoHero »

Before I post this, a little background. Horror has never been my genre. I suppose you could say what I write the most, or am most comfortable with, could be called “Dude Lit”. Think High Fidelity by Nick Hornby and you’re in the right ballpark. Lots of dialogue, almost always first person, pop culture references...

So when I wanted to try to see if I could write horror, I started with something I thought would be easy, adaptation of a comedic sketch into horror. Well, it was easy to write - I mean it’s an idea already fleshed out. While it’s received positive feedback, it’s definitely more weird than scary. So... posting it here sort of felt natural, moreso than any other place I’ve attempted to post it.

So here we go. Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s whatever.

Old Gregg
By D.W. Lee

I had been in the Jon boat since about ‪5:30‬ in the evening, traveling till I found what I felt was a nice spot for my needs. A spot to relax, view the scenery, and of course fish. That's the great thing about having your own lake house - you can go on the lake any time you want. Never found a magic mailbox letting me to write letters to Sandra Bullock, but you can’t have everything you want.

After a light early dinner I grabbed my gear and a few beers and hopped into my humble vessel. I usually give my buddy Curly a call to see if he wants to come with me any time I get on the water but he'd been gone the past week. Curly’s a good guy all-in-all. We don’t have much in common but he’s in his mid-forties and divorced like me. Other than enjoying being on a boat, that’s about the limit of our similarities.

Proximity breeds strange bedfellows as they say however, and we are the only two people with houses in this area. We pretty much became friends right after I moved in a few years ago.

His absence was a little odd because he’s usually sure to make me aware of any plans that'd keep him away for any amount of time. I just figured he was out of town, probably spending time with his kids somewhere. The only reason I thought it strange is that he always asks me keep an eye on his place and his boat in his dock. The boat hasn't been there since I noticed he was gone though, so maybe he took it with him. Maybe he convinced his ex to let him take them vacationing somewhere near another lake. Seems kind of pointless to me, but I've seen him do it before.

"Howard, there are plenty of lakes in the sea." he told me once when I asked him about it. I laughed out of courtesy for my friend but that joke is... it’s just terrible.

Shrugging away any more thoughts of Curly I set out onto the water. I boated to a nice secluded spot with the banks barely visible and settled down for a few hours of lake time. Fishing is a game of patience, and to me it’s what makes it so relaxing. So when I didn't even feel my first nibble until the sun had already set, I paid it no mind. Following a stunning sunset I simply enjoyed watching the moon and stars reflect off the inky water below from the black sky above, making me feel as though I were lost in a beautiful, endless spacescape. I felt another pull on my line while gazing downward at the wavering reflection of the big yellow moon. A pretty good sized tug. I flicked up with my wrists quickly, hoping to feel immediate resistance. Oh yeah, I definitely hooked one.

"That's right, come to papa..." I said out loud in mild excitement. While reeling my catch in, I noticed that about 100 yards away from the boat, there was suddenly a thick fog when I was sure there had been no such fog even moments ago. I turned my head and witnessed the fog "rolling in" from all around me, approaching me from 360 degrees. Everything suddenly became deathly quiet. I felt goosebumps on my arms and the hair raise on the back of my neck. Another sharp tug in my hands and my attention was jerked back to the struggle with the almost-caught fish. But it wasn't just a tug, the line started to spin out of the reel faster than I could comprehend, quickly jamming up the line in the reel. Before I could even worry about the headache the tangled knots of line would be to free the reel there was another pull, like nothing I’ve ever felt from a fish before, yanked the rod out of my hands and my entire fishing pole leaped out of my hands and into the dark, murky water of the lake.

I only know this because I heard the splash it made - I couldn’t see it because when I looked up out onto the lake that fog I’d noticed moments earlier was right there in front of me, just outside my boat. It had waged that football field sized gap in a matter of a few seconds. It had gotten thicker, and so much faster. Choking out disbelieving expletives, the fog immediately rushed in on me, blinding me, totally enveloping me. This put me in no danger, obviously, it was only fog. Still I felt a spike of fear run through me.

I desperately waved my hands in front of my face trying to cast away this strange fog, as if it were smoke from a bonfire. After another few moments it cleared away, rushing out in a similar manner to which it came. I was... baffled. I just watched the fog go, then I realized in all of the confusion I’d been holding my breath. I turned my head down to my feet and begin a long exhale of breath, dragging my hands over my eyes and through my hair.

"Hi there."

I jumped back in my seat and looked toward where I heard the voice had come from - right in front of me. I felt my blood run cold and my mouth dry up as I saw the figure of a man. Wait, that wasn't right... it was kind of like a man. I was breathing heavily; my head was spinning from all the confusion and shock. It had the figure of a man, the head of a man... but... scales? Scales covered its... skin? Its eyes! GOD Its eyes! They were huge, yellow eyes each with pure black irises that filled half the eyeball. It was... smiling... fat worm-like lips, not even close to that of a human’s lips spread to show brown stained teeth that were sharp... serrated... and numerous.

"What ar... are you?" I choked out after feeling those hideous eyes beg me for recognition and reply.

"I'm Old Gregg. Pleased to meet you." The creature replied. I couldn’t tell if it were out of proper gentlemanly decorum or scathing sarcastic rebuttal.

Old Gregg? What? Had I fallen asleep on the boat and was now currently dreaming? My jaw hung open, and I felt my pulse start pounding heavily in my head and eyes. The thing... Gregg?... Old... Gregg was wearing clothing I realized. I think they were clothes. The full moon provided ample light but I was just having a hard time processing anything at this point as adrenaline started flowing through me and my fight or flight reaction began to trigger. The clothes were soaking wet and torn. Completely mismatched in a way that would make Michael Kors go blind. It's as if this thing... as if Old Gregg found some unlucky vacationer’s suitcase that had somehow floated down to the bottom of the lake and had languished there for years before Old Gregg stumbled upon it and picked out some things that were, to any sighted person’s horror, to his liking. A soggy ill-fitting jacket, silvery and reflective, slouched upon Old Gregg's shoulders, with what looked like a silk button down underneath that had just begun to rot away. I couldn't tell you what color it was. The shirt was so dirty and covered in filth it took me a moment to realize that he also had one of those really skinny ties, popular in the 80’s and mid 2000’s around his neck. It too was covered in the muck from the bottom of the lake.

"W... What do you want?" I stammered, trying not to scream the words.

"Maybe I should ask you the same question... What are you doing in my waters?" the grotesque thing gurgled out.

I stopped my automatic instinct to explain that I was just fishing. The thing just called these his waters. And he did not look happy. At that moment I noticed that this thing while having vague, if grotesque, features of a man did not have hair as I previously assumed. Covering his head, like a wig almost, was grimy water vegetation and algae, all hanging off his scalp to just past the length of his shoulders. "Old Gregg's" mouth began to scowl. My heart pounded like a drum as I realized that it... he... was displaying a look of impatience. He wanted an answer.

"J-just taking in the night air?" I managed to get out, involuntarily raising the end of my speech as to sound like a question. I wondered if I could jump out of the boat and swim back to the shore, but it was at least a few miles away.

"Then... how come there’s this shiny pointy thing stuck in my head?" he questioned, tugging on my hook that I could see flashes of as it gleamed in the light of the moon.

I suddenly thanked God I had lost my pole to the waters of the lake moments ago. I swallowed hard regardless but kept silent. I gave an unconvincing shrug of my shoulders and timid shake of my head, trying to feign innocence.

"So... This wouldn't be yours then?" he asked, as he reached over the boat and pulled up my fishing rod from the water, as if it were just right there the whole time floating next to the boat. Those big yellow eyes glanced from the pole and then glared at me. A pure look of anger... or maybe disappointment met my own eyes.

My heart started beating even faster and harder. This was enough. Either I was dreaming or had gone insane but all my body wanted to do was flee. Before I could even use my calves to propel myself up into a standing position and dive overboard to get away from this... thing... its hand swiftly and forcefully grabbed my thigh. It held me there with a strength I was not expecting. The hand was scaly and green, with webbed fingers and thumb and ugly knarled brown fingernails that each came to a natural sharp point. A tiny screetch escaped my throat.

"Please! Just let me go! Don't hurt me! Don't kill me!" I begged, starting to become frantic. Gregg relaxed his grip on my thigh then, not breaking his eye contact with me, I watched as he slowly brought his hand back to his own lap. His lap... he was wearing some sort of skirt? A tutu maybe... it looked as though it once had been a vibrant pink hue, now it was the same shade of muddy dilapidation as the rest of his ensemble, full of holes and dripping gunk. Gregg took a breath. That’s what it sounded like one anyway.

"Easy now, my fuzzy little man peach..." (WHAT?) "You ever drink The Drink from a shoe?" I mean, I think that’s what he asked. And I swear the question sounded like it came out almost mirthfully.

I was... confused. What I took earlier for rage from Old Gregg now sounded like genuine curiosity, even childlike glee. But what was that about a shoe?

“What?” I managed to speak toward the waiting eyes of Gregg.

“You wanna come to a club where people wee on each other?”

Am I hearing any of this right? Had my adrenaline and fear spiked so high that I was now psychotic and incapable of actually understanding words and sentences?

“No.” I stammered, just in case he had said what I had thought I heard him say.

“I’m gonna hurt you” Old Gregg said in monotone, the moon shining off his yellow sclera, showing what I was now sure again could be nothing but malice. Again, at least I think that’s what it was...

“…ex…excuse me?” my mouth ran dry as I replied hoping I really was being horrified into misunderstanding his words.

“I like you. What do you think of me?” his tone and eyes grew instantly kind and innocent. What was going on? One moment I was fishing and now I’m trying to figure out how to have a conversation with a clearly dangerous bi-polar creature of the deep. I took a few moments to breathe hard, every inhale and exhale combining with the blood rushing in my ears and the thumping of my heart to form the sounds of cannon fire.

“I… I don’t rightly know sir…” I said near tears.

“Make an assessment.” Gregg said flatly and instantly. I felt the tears escape from where they were being held back in my eyes, flowing hot on my face.

“I think… you’re… a nice modern… gentleman…” Is that what I said? I think that’s what I said. The words seemed to form and project through my vocal chords without my consent.

“Don’t lie to me boy!” snarled Gregg as he stood quicker on his feet than I could believe possible, the wake of the water not presenting any challenge to his balance and grace. He shot his arm out, his hand grasping around my throat with such impossible speed I had no chance to fight off his fingers now curling around my neck, the tips of each nail pinching my skin where they bit into the flesh.

“I'm not lying!” was all I could think to say and all I could get out before the grip became stronger. Not enough for my airway to be cut off, he wasn’t trying to kill me, but still easily holding me completely prone.

“You, my modern gentleman, need a drink. The Drink. Do you remember? You will need The Drink to understand the thing you are about to see, fuzzy peach.” Gregg said as his arm and grip held still and strong, preventing me from so much as moving my neck to see what he was doing with his other arm.

He seemed to reach around and produce an object… a shoe? A sleek looking women's patent leather high heel was now in his other hand. Gregg’s stinking breath grew as his smile widened in some sort of anticipation.

“Mmm. Creamy. Soft, creamy beige.” He spoke in almost reverent tones while looking at the shoe. He suddenly tightened his grip around my neck, forcing me to open my mouth by pressing down on my trachea. Then, bringing the shoe to my mouth, he poured whatever liquid inside it down past my lips, onto my tongue and filled my mouth.

He eased the pressure on my trachea but did not let go of my neck. With the large palm of his other hand, still with the shoe now being held by its heel between the tips of two of his fingers where the webbing ended, he covered my mouth and nostrils. I tried to cough out this liquid, to do anything but drink as Gregg looked down at me. Again, to my surprise his face wasn’t twisted with rage or even effort at the strength he was exerting from manhandling me. His expression was just expectant… almost compassionate. The bit of liquid still inside the woman’s shoe, or The Drink as Gregg had called it, dripped onto my face and down Gregg’s webbed hand covering my mouth. I realized if I didn’t want to die, if I wanted to breathe ever again, I had to swallow. And so I did.

It was… good. I mean, if I had my choice of serving options this would not have been the one I’d have chosen but whatever this drink was it was creamy as Gregg had said, and sweet. There was something else familiar about it that I couldn’t place in all this madness but I remember thinking it’d go nicely with some coffee.

Gregg released my neck and sat back down on the opposite side of me like he had been sitting before. My hands immediately went to my throat and I started coughing from the irritation and the bit of liquid that had gone down the wrong way in the violence of the ingestion of the drink. Old Gregg waited until the fit subsided. He looked at me, as if gauging something about me. I’d noticed that my vision had blurred a bit, I was feeling a bit fuzzy on the inside too. And warm. None of these were unpleasant feelings, but I was concerned regardless not knowing what I just drank or why, or why I was attacked just to get that “drink” into me. Something in my eyes seemed to satisfy Gregg and he began, very deliberately, to speak.

“I know what you're thinking,” but at this point I didn’t even know what I was thinking, “Here comes Old Gregg, he's a scaly man-fish. You don't know me. You don't know what I got. I got something to show you!” Gregg’s voice begins to grow increasingly excited and there’s a buzz of anticipation, like before you hear thunder right after you see a lightning strike during a bad storm. Then, just as I was thinking of that lightning strike, a soft glow of light started to grow, very quickly, into a blinding – spotlight type light between old Gregg’s knees. Just when I was about to look away, thinking of permanent damage to my retinas like when they told you not to look directly at the sun when you were a child in school during eclipses, Gregg leaped up and started to scream into the sky.

“You know what that is?!” He howled, lifting his pink tutu up, as if he were giving birth to this blinding star of light, “That's Old Gregg's vagina!” Gregg howled louder, but his scream began to be drowned out by other screams coming from the light in his crotch. If I could have, I would have done something, anything to be able to keep from having anymore of this input reach my brain. Clawed out my eyes, punctured my own ears - but the overwhelming dominance of the terror gripped me and I was frozen. Frozen and forced to witness.

My head began to feel like it was splitting apart gazing into the unholy blaze of unfathomable whiteness. In that white I started seeing shadows sneak from the light, as though reaching out toward me. The sound of screams reached deafening levels like a million freight trains crashing into each other at their top speeds.

I felt the blood starting to pour out of my ears, and the shadows kept multiplying, and while my vision began to blur and fade the shadows somehow became sharper. I could see slimy tendrils begin taking solid shape, and growing larger than the scope of my vision could contain and yet I could see them all as they grew, see them clearer backlit by the hideous light that I knew no man or god was meant to see. Purple-black ichor dripping from this writhing tangle of evil. Finally I heard one last scream from Gregg...

“I've got a mangina! I'M OLD GREGG!”

Everything went mercifully silent and I felt immediate relief as my vision was fortunately and finally overtaken by the utter relief of unmitigated blackness.

I didn’t remember a single thing after my vision gave out. I guess I passed out, my brain having overloaded, no longer able to handle whatever it was it experiencing. It was still and dark. Had I been rendered blind?

Suddenly my ears assured me they were okay as I heard a high-pitched, grating noise off to the left of me. To my further surprise my eyes slit open tentatively. A shot of adrenaline went through me as I saw the blinding light again, remembering the tentacles striking toward me for what I was sure was just seconds ago. I was on my back for some reason, and I instinctively shot up to a sitting position and braced my arms in front of my face to protect myself…

And then nothing happened.

Slowly lowering my arms I painfully forced my eyes to open wider. My head felt cracked open, my mouth tasted like Irish cream liqueur for some reason. My sight quickly adjusted and my blood pressure tapered down as I slowly looked around, coming to the realization that I was… in my own bed?

The light was the sun poking through my curtains. I looked toward my left where the awful noise was coming from and then let out a heavy breath I’d not realized I’d been holding in. That shrill noise was just my alarm clock going off. It said it was 9:00 AM. I was in my bed. I was in my room, in my house.

A dream! It was just a goddamned dream! I was so relieved when I realized it was only some terribly realistic nightmare that I started to chuckle. My laughs magnified until they stopped just short of turning into small sobs. I took in a few more breaths then I threw off my covers, turning myself to the edge of my bed to my left, my feet landing on the soft carpeting of my bedroom.

Then I stopped.

Then I froze.

I froze and felt my blood turn to ice in my veins, I swear I felt my heart stop beating. I felt myself start to hyperventilate as my left foot’s naked toes brushed against a slippery leather sensation. No. No, no, no, no, no…. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to but I knew… I knew I had to. So I did.

I gripped my sheets like they were the only thing tethering me to this world and I looked down. And I saw it. A shiny patent high heel.

It was leaking a beige fluid onto my carpet.

And I screamed.
"We were all here. We are all totally and fully alive." - Alasdair Stuart
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Re: Old Gregg (A Horror Parody)

Post by Bluez »

Good scary story - really enjoyed it.
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lady lemonbalm
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Re: Old Gregg (A Horror Parody)

Post by lady lemonbalm »

Great story, super evocative.
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Re: Old Gregg (A Horror Parody)

Post by MementoHero »

Thank you guys, your comments mean a lot.
lady lemonbalm wrote: Sun Dec 09, 2018 7:55 pm Great story, super evocative.
Haha I can’t tell if you mean evocative of the original sketch or are complimenting the imagery. Either way, it’s a good thing. Thank you.
"We were all here. We are all totally and fully alive." - Alasdair Stuart
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Re: Old Gregg (A Horror Parody)

Post by D00MSDAY »

I just joined this group, and this is the first story I've read. Wow. The whole thing was entertaining, but the point where you had my full and unwavering attention was: "Easy now, my fuzzy little man peach..."
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