Work Text:
Teeth
“Popcorn?” Danny asked.
“Check,” Tucker replied.
“Cookies?”
“Check!”
“Blankets and Pillows?”
“Check.”
“Berries?” Sam asked.
“Uh… not yet?” Tucker replied warily while averting his gaze. The wall was suddenly very interesting.
“Come on,” Sam said, “We need something sweet and delicious that won’t put us in a sugar coma. If we’re in a sugar coma, then we can’t watch the movies. I guess I’ll just go grab them from the fridge.” Sam stood up and headed towards the home’s movie theater door. She was mumbling to herself on the way out (most likely about the two boys), but then raised her voice and said, “Go through the movies while I’m gone.” And then the door shut behind her.
“Well,” Tucker said, “You heard her. Let’s pick a few movies to choose from.” Tucker walked over to the gigantic shelf filled with rows and rows of films.
“Where to start?” Danny asked rhetorically as his eyes skimmed over the titles.
“For starters, we are not watching A Dog’s Purpose.”
“Why not?”
“Too sad — I’ll be crying the whole time.”
“Aww, Tuck does have a soft spot!” Danny exclaimed with sarcasm (and even though he felt the same way about the movie).
“We all know that it would just be a cry fest in here if we watched it.” Tucker retorted defensively. It was true, and Danny knew it.
“I bet that means that we probably don’t want to watch any other sad or heart-wrenching films … Oh, look!” Danny then exclaimed as he grabbed a movie off of the shelf and started waving it wildly.
“Whoa, slow down, dude. I can’t even see it.”
Danny stilled the waving and faced the picture towards Tucker, “Back to the Future! Do you remember how we used to watch this all of the time?”
“Yep, it was one of the highlights of our movie marathons,” Tucker said a bit wistfully, reminiscing of simpler days.
“Is that what I think it is?” Sam said as she reentered the room with a large bowl of mixed berries.
“You bet it is!” Danny replied.
“Then let’s put the movie in,” Sam said with a large smile on her face. She put the bowl down on the snack table and then plopped herself in the pillow and blanket pile. Tucker joined her and grabbed a handful of popcorn as Danny opened the DVD player. They hadn’t watched the movie in so long, and they were very ready to watch it again.
Danny then came over to the plushy haven, and the movie began to start. The FBI statement went up, and then the Universal Studios™ intro began. Then the lights went out. They and the windowless theater were suddenly shrouded in darkness.
“Aw come on!” Tucker exclaimed. The trio knew that it was pretty windy out, but they didn’t think that it would cause the power to go out.
“Do you think it’s an attack?” Sam asked, already readying ecto-weapons.
“No,” Danny said, “I don’t sense anything. But just in case, I’ll take a look around.” Danny lit an ectoblast in his hand that (hopefully) would just provide light. “Do we have any flashlights? Once I leave you’ll have no light.”
“I am sure we have some around,” Sam said, “I am pretty sure we have a few in the hall closet: let’s head over there.” They followed the neon green light to the hallway door and located the closet. Sam looked around in the dim light and moved the items around. After some searching, she found the flashlights; she handed one to Tucker. “Okay,” she said, “Tucker and I can go check out the fuse box and see if we can do anything to fix it.”
“I’ll go check to make sure that there’s no attack,” Danny replied. Then they went their separate ways.
When Sam and Tucker went outside into the cool but warm summer air, they saw that the entire surrounding area was devoid of light except from the stars. Tucker began to say, “We probably won’t be able to do anything, but we can still check to make sure that the fuse box is running properly for when the electricity comes back.” They headed over to the metal box and shined their lights inside. The switches were all facing in the one position, and everything looked sparkly clean, with no charred areas or anything. “Well, it's in working order. Let’s head back before the popcorn gets too cold.”
When they entered the home theater again, Danny was already there waiting for them. He still had an ectoblast for a source of light.“So,” he said, “We’re all clear, how does the box look?”
“Like it was installed yesterday,” Tucker replied.
“We actually got a new one last week,” Sam added. After a pause, she asked, “So, what should we do now? A movie’s out of the picture.”
“We could tell stories,” Danny proposed, “Remember how we would make the pillow and blanket forts and then tell the “spooky”’ — he used hand quotes — “stories?”
“Yeah! I mean, I am not sure how “spooky they’ll be now considering what we’ve been through,” Tucker said with new enthusiasm, “But it will be fun nonetheless.”
Sam piped up, “Have I ever told you the story “The Purple Ape”?” She received a shaking of heads of “noes”, “I can start then. My grandpa used to tell me this story when I was little.
“Go for it,” Danny said, grabbing a bowl of popcorn (he was ready for the story to play out).
Sam cleared her throat then began: “A man was driving down a slick road during the middle of the night. The torrents of rain made it hard to see out of the old car’s windows, even with the windshield wipers speedily swiping back and forth with an audible noise. The road was dark save for the headlights of the vehicle; if there were street lights, the man might have felt safer on the road. But, the neverending rain, the unpredictable twists in the road, and the man’s growing exhaustion led him to seek sanctuary: a place to rest for the night and stay out of the storm. However, the man had noticed that the road was rather desolate and that he did not know if there would be any hotels coming soon at all.
“As he rounded around the next sharp and worrisome turn, he noticed that there was a modest Victorian home next to the road. It was well kept but run-down with age. Lights shone from inside, and a porch light beamed beckoningly. He slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road, and turned off the ignition. Maybe he could spend the night there if the people there were hospitable.
“He had no umbrella, so when he exited by popping open the door with his foot, he rushed across the road as the rain relentlessly fell down. He hurried up the old
wooden steps to the porch where he rang the doorbell — he hoped he wasn’t disturbing the occupants too much.
“The man waited for a few seconds, then he heard footsteps coming towards the door. The white-washed door opened to reveal a well-kept older-aged man. “Hello, may I help you?” He asked with an overall kind tone. It was void of any gruffness or annoyance.
“The exhausted man explained his situation and hopes of being able to stay the night. To his delight, the man was hospitable and allowed him to stay the night —”
All of a sudden, loud crunches of popcorn filled the air, and Sam looked over at Tucker disapprovingly. “Really, Tuck?”
“I can’t help it. It’s called popcorn for a reason.”
Sam resisted an urge to facepalm. She was certain that was not the reason why. “Annnnyways,” Sam said, extending it out dramatically with exasperation, “Continuing on with the story: The traveler was directed over to a room to the right of the lit foyer. The room was simple, with a guest bed with plain sheets and a bureau along with a few photos on the wall, but it spoke elegance too. Most likely because of the house’s general grandeur. “You can stay here tonight,” the man said, “You can use the restroom down the hall. Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you, is there any way I can repay you?” The traveler asked.
About to leave the door, the man turned around and said, “No need,” and, as if an afterthought, “Just make sure to not go down to the basement,” he pointed at the door in the room, “or touch the purple ape.”
The traveler was puzzled as the man left the room. What was a purple ape? And why was it even there (or supposedly there)? He shook his head to clear his head of those thoughts — he should just go to bed.
But, the thoughts would not leave his head. The man said to not touch the purple ape, but taking a look couldn’t hurt. Could it? —”
“Definitely,” Tucker said, interjecting with a mouth full of popcorn. Danny agreed.
Sam resumed the story: “The man decided to venture down. He opened the door and was met with darkness. But, a flick of the switch on the wall faintly lit the stairwell when the dim lights turned on consecutively one after another. He took a step down onto the stairs and noticed the unmistakable creak of the wooden boards — the door matched with a squeak as it shut behind him. He continued down until another door was in front of him. He opened it and was met with a continuation of the staircase. He continued down. Each creak and squeak seemed louder than before.
“Then, the man reached another door that was like all the ones before: white-washed wood with normal wear and tear, and the audible squeak when opened. This time, it opened to an open space covered with assorted boxes, dim hanging lights which cast ominous shadows across the basement, and, directly in the center, a cage with a shadowy figure in it. It was unmistakable: it was an ape. And it was most definitely purple.
“The ape appeared to be gentle, so the man approached the cage. Coming closer, he could see that the ape had slightly matted fur, which saddened the man. How could the ape be in there all of the time? It is inhumane.
“But, it seemed as if the man became too close to the animal because the ape suddenly locked eyes with the man. He appeared angered. He bared his giant teeth at the man and began to growl. The ape grasped the bars and, despite the strong hold of the metal, the man saw them begin to bend apart.
“The man took a wary step back. And then another. But, the ape was still angered and still pulled on the bars. Then, the bars snapped.
“The man ran for it. He opened up the old squeaking door behind him and ran up the stairs. He led the door slam shut behind him: he had no time to turn around. Creak, creak, creak went the stairs. But then the creaks were matched with the identifiable squeak of the door; the ape made it through and made its own creaks on the old stairs. The man ran faster.
“Creak, creak, creak. The man opened the next door with another loud screech. Why were there so many stairs? The creaking continued and reverberated throughout the stairwell. The hanging lights seemed to flicker from the ruckus and intensity.
“The door squeaked behind the man. The ape was close, and the next door was so far away. Could the man really outrun the beast? Creak, creak, creak.
“The man dared not to turn around to see how close his pursuer was, but the lights ended up doing the work for him — they cast shadows upon the walls. The ape’s shadow was even closer than before, and the creaks became even louder. Suddenly, an arm swiped out towards the man. The gust of air signaling the near miss. Creak, creak, creak.
“The man picked up his speed. The door was so close. He reached his hand out to the door and heard the audible squeak. The door opened, and he ran through. But so did the ape.
“If he could reach his car, maybe he could drive away and escape his relentless pursuer. The man ran out of the bedroom door and to the front door. He flung it open and ran out into the still downpour of rain. He heard the loud footsteps of the ape behind him on the porch. He ran across the street, barely looking for cars; the ape was more important. He ran to the car door, went to open the door, but then realized it was locked. His keys were inside.
“The ape was right behind him, and the car blocked the man’s escape. He wouldn’t be able to make it around. The ape brought its hand up, and the man closed his eyes in mournful anticipation.
“The purple hand made contact, but it did not attack. The ape pulled away quickly, and the man heard it say, “Tag! You’re it!” And then it ran off.
“The end.”
Danny and Tucker applauded.