Last Call

Content Warning: Violence, cannibalism, murder

“Last call! That means you Mandy, I’m going to close you out.” Mandy always stays until last call but she tips like she’s trying to buy my friendship, which honestly she is. I’m happy to fake a smile and listen to her dramatic tales of a broken life as long as she keeps financing my lavish needs. Her bar stool is always there for her, ever since she needed someone to talk to after her first miscarriage. Once her husband left her, she started coming in every night. Their divorce bought me a massive gold area rug. I don’t know what it is about sad, pathetic people but they love throwing their money away at false companions. Whether it’s strippers or bartenders, we don’t care about you, we care about your wallet. 

    “Tessa, you know I love you right girl?” Love you? Your constant mixed aroma of cheap dollar store perfume, desperation, and cigarettes and your tear stained face and orange lipstick almost over power the $20 bills on my bar, almost. 

    “O I love you too Mandy! Don’t worry, things will get better with your mom.” Faking concern has become an art form. Maybe her mom’s cancer will buy me new patio furniture. Mandy kissed me and left a neon glittery orange reminder of mediocrity on my cheek. I swear, if I had the stomach to kill, this bar would have no more regulars. And as well as I would do in prison, clearly orange is not my color. 

    I could work at another bar where people tip because they’re having a good time but the thought of fueling a night of drunken sex between a desperate-for-love, no self esteem, under dressed woman and a predatory man makes me sick. I prefer my customers to be truly sad and at the end of their ropes. Do I get some sort of sick pleasure knowing that my money comes from people who might kill themselves someday? Like I said, I don’t have the stomach to kill but I can aid people on their way to their own demise. Besides I get to go home to my massive downtown corner loft and shower off the days gloom and misery under my rainfall shower head. It really is the perfect situation for me. 

    As my last two customers (a couple that specifically comes here to angrily whisper fight) left the bar I locked the front door and turned back to the bar. I was startled by a very well dressed and handsome looking man sitting in Mandy’s stool, legs crossed and fingers tented like some hot younger version of Mr Burns. 

    “Hey man, I just did last call, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” I unlocked the door and held it open, expecting him to leave. 

    “I just wanted one drink, I hear you’re a great bartender.” He pulled out a massive roll of $100 bills and gently set it on the bar. This was an easy decision. Pour one drink for the hot rich guy with red alligator boots and a red suede suit, or kick him out and lose two opportunities. No way, I may have just found the financier to fill my walk-in shoe closet. 

    “What’s your poison?” I said as I leaned over the bar and gently touched his fingers. 

“Scotch, neat, the more heat, the better.” His eyes are so dark they almost look black. They are cold and mesmerizing. He grabbed my hand.

“Yeah, Lagavulin, you got it man.” I love when people have expensive tastes, sure I’ll pour you and your suit a $20 shot. I pour his drink and set it down, he doesn’t even look at it just keeps staring at me. 

“Anything else I can get you man? Like I said it’s last call.” As hot as this guy is he is definitely starting to creep me out. I checked my back pocket to make sure my knife was still there. 

“Am I making you uncomfortable Tessa?” 

“How do you know my name?” I asked as I gripped my knife. 

“Like I said, you’ve come highly recommended in my circle.”  I just nodded and started wiping stuff down, sometimes if you pretend you’re cleaning, people get the hint and leave. He sipped his scotch and continued to sit and stare at me. I finally had to say something when he finished his drink.

“Alright man, I appreciate your business and thanks for the huge tip but I really am-”

“Let me ask you something Tessa.” What is with this guy? 

“Do you enjoy your job?”

“Yeah I do, but you really do need to-”
    “You know this drink you serve kills people right? All you are doing is feeding into the worst parts of an already disgusting society.” I was about to start screaming at this guy when he grabbed my hands and held them down hard on the bar.

“What the fuck man! Let go!”

“Your lifestyle depends on the suffering of others, what you have done while working here is greedy and malicious and your selfish life is going to catch up to you.” His voice was changing, it got gritty and muffled and loud, the lights started flickering, and the bartop started to get really hot, I could feel my arms start to burn. I kept pulling my hands and he finally let go, I tried to grab my knife but dropped it and screamed when I heard a loud bang in the kitchen. I dropped down behind the bar and picked up my knife.

“Alright asshole, get the fuck out!” I jumped up, knife pointed at the seat, but he was gone, it was quiet again and the lights stopped. His glass was sitting on the bar, completely full. I grabbed it and it was white hot. It burned my skin and I dropped it, shattering glass everywhere. “What the fuck!” I started running cold water over the already blistering skin on my hands and arms, when I heard a blood curdling howl coming from the kitchen. “Tony, what the hell? Is that you!?” I turned the water off, held up my knife and slowly walked back shaking with adrenaline and fear. The prep area looked like a mess, red food dye was everywhere but I couldn’t find Tony. “Tony?” I asked again as I turned the corner to the fryer and I saw something that made me scream and I stepped back and slipped on, well what I thought was food dye. The fryers were bubbling over, body parts popping with hot fryer oil and puss, I saw Tony’s head on a pile of chopped up flesh, his eyelids open but nothing but bloody holes underneath. I couldn’t stop, I puked right in the open reach-in-cooler. I wiped my mouth and opened my eyes and saw his eyes and heart sitting on a bag of french fries.

I pulled myself up onto the blood soaked cutting board and I heard something behind me. I turned and saw a giant nightmarish creature with goat hooves that left black burned footprints, horns so twisted that I couldn’t tell which was which, and its face looked like a distorted pig whose bottom jaw had been ripped out. Its long black tongue hung down dripping black sludge on the floor. I watched in horror as his black spit burned a hole through our cement floor. I screamed and pointed my knife at it as it lunged towards me with its long black sharp fingernails. I closed my eyes and heard a surprisingly feminine yelp. The smell of cheap perfume wafted into my nose and felt something warm and wet drip down my legs. I can’t open my eyes. This awful gurgling sound forced me to open my eyes and I saw Mandy crumpled over and clutching at my shirt, my knife deep in her throat. She coughed and cried out for help with her last breath. She slumped over, her arms dropped to her side, eyes open and staring. 

I dropped to my knees and sat silent in a pool of Mandy’s blood and Tony’s blood. They never tell you about the smell of death in horror movies. Like french fries and pennies. I turned and puked again. 

“Tessa Green, 29 year old bartender. Questioned a couple times for Food Stamp fraud, murders and dismembers 35 year old cook Tony Sims. And then when 47 year old Mandy Henderson walked back to the wrong place at the wrong time, frustrated by being interrupted Tessa lodges her butcher knife into Ms. Henderson’s jugular. No hesitation, and no mercy. We found her screaming nonsense sitting in a pool of blood and fried body parts. One of the fried legs even had a couple bites taken out of it. Someone upstairs smelled something funny and called 911.”

“She’s so small, how could she have torn Mr. Sims body apart? What was she screaming when you picked her up?”

“The devil made me do it.” 

I can feel the detectives staring at me through the mirror. My hands cuffed to the table with nothing to do but stare at the walls and shout my innocence. These cops are not listening to me! 

“I told you! It was a demon! Find the man in the red suit! He made me do it!” I kept screaming and screaming, they have to believe me. They can’t possibly believe that I would hurt those people, even if my hands weren’t cuffed I wouldn’t even swat that fly. 

“Did she lawyer up?’

“Yeah, a public defender should be here any minute”

“ADA Damien! I should have known you would be on a case this high profile. We caught her red handed, literally blood on her hands and knife in a death grip. She’s going to the chair man. There is no way you’re finding a way out this time.” 

The door opened and the lights flickered. There he was, dressed like a day time TV lawyer but with those same black eyes. 

“It’s you! You did this!” I pulled on my cuffs so hard I thought I felt the table move. He pulled the chair up right next to me, crossed his legs, and tented his fingers. “What the fuck man, what the fuck is going on?”

“Looks like you’re in some trouble Tessa. Murder, dismemberment, cannibalism, you could get the death penalty for this one.” He sat there smirking at me with this knowing smile. As if he could see the panicked thoughts racing through my head. He grabbed my hands again, “I’m here to help you”. His tone suggested empathy but all I felt was fear. 

“Let go of me you fucking freak! You killed them!”

“Tessa, I want to make a deal with you. I have the security camera footage from your bar, the only copy. This video will send you right to the electric chair, this is Florida, you are candy to these licensed killers.”

“What video, what are you talking about?”

“Shall we watch your masterpiece?” He took out his phone and pressed play. There I was walking Mandy out the door. I turned around without locking the door, I watched myself walk behind the bar and pour a scotch. I set it down in front of Mandy’s empty seat and sat there leaning over the bar staring for a couple seconds. Then I walked back into the kitchen. The camera view changed to catch me walking up to Tony. I saw myself take out my knife and stand behind Tony. He turned around and before he could say anything, I sliced his throat open. Blood splattered all over my face. 

“This isn’t real! You were there, I remember talking to you!” He said nothing and kept playing the video. I saw myself pick up the meat cleaver and watched in horror as I hacked away at Tony’s limbs. One by one I dropped his legs into the fryer. I grabbed a potato peeler and ripped out his eyes. I cringed and looked away as I saw myself take a meat cleaver to his sternum. 

“WATCH THE VIDEO!” The man growled at me. The lights in the room went out and a red glow filled the space. I kept watching as I hacked at Tony’s neck. Blood was spraying all over the salad bar, covering the lettuce and tomatoes in a dark red spatter. The camera flashed back to the front door and I saw Mandy poke her head in. She looked startled and she walked to the back. Back in the kitchen I saw myself drop Tony’s head on the floor, grab a 10” blade, and run at her. I thrust the knife deep into her throat and watched the blood spray all over the prep sink. Defrosting chicken wings left out for the Sunday Night Football rush were covered in thick red blood. I watched as I pushed her off of me and I cried out in pure agony as I walked over to the fryer and pulled out Tony’s leg. He turned the camera off before I could see what was going to happen next but my imagination ran wild and I couldn’t keep it inside. I managed to somehow not get any puke on myself, despite being handcuffed to the table.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real.” I said as he gently wiped my mouth. I pulled back from his fucked up version of charm. The red glow of the room got darker and darker and his shadow started to grow against the wall. It looked… inhuman. 

“This is real, and I applaud your work. All I did was tell you to kill him, the method was all you Tessa.” 

“What are you talking about!? I would never do something like this!”

“As I said when we first met, you came highly recommended. I’ve had a lot of clients tell me that you make incredible drinks. They say you add a secret ingredient that’s worth dying for”

“What the fuck are you talking about! What do my drinks have to do with this!?”

“Paul Tremblae.” He said as he sat back in his chair and placed his hands on his knees. He sat there waiting for me to respond. Paul Tremblae was some French exchange student that died here in town. He came into my bar the night he died.

“I had nothing to do with Paul Tremblae. I barely even talked to him.” He just kept staring at me. My eyes were adjusting to the dark red glow and his shadow looked like it was growing horns.

“What are you, some kind of fucking ghost or demon or something? Paul was just some asshole who demanded I make him and his douchebag friends a round of ridiculous shots. Whatever happened to him was just karma for the way he treated me and all of his other bartenders, probably.” Why won’t this freak respond! His shadow lifted its arm and started to reach towards me, the lights were flashing and all I could hear was a loud shriek. I looked down and saw blood dripping onto the table from my nose.  

“FINE! I put a shot of bleach in his drink! I didn’t think it would kill him! I just wanted to make him sick! He deserved it anway! The way he talked to me, I should have killed him with my bare hands! Besides, nobody else  who drank my bleach cocktails died!” The lights turned back on, the high pitched noise stopped, and his shadow disappeared. 

“I’m not a demon, I am the King of the Underworld, and I want you in my dark kingdom. You’re brand of evil torture would be a great asset to the suffering of the underworld. Of course, if you do not want to join me and become a vessel of death you do have a couple of options. Keep in mind, you just confessed to murdering Paul Tremblae. With that confession and this video you will be front of the line in death row. But if you come with me, you will be able to live out all your fantasies on an endless supply of victims. Your greed and selfishness is the perfect punishment for the wretched souls wasting away down there.  Take my hand Tessa and promise me your soul. Your weak stomach won’t be a problem in the deepest pits of Hell.” 

I looked down, my hands were uncuffed and the walls were falling away, fire and darkness began to fill the room as I heard screams and anguish. I looked into his black eyes, reached my hand forward, and followed him into the dark.

Hell isn’t all bad. I’ve been here about 50 years now. I’m head bartender, and every artisan cocktail is my own creation. The Delirium is my specialty. It’s a Bleach Martini, splash of vermouth, and one olive. The Devil was right, I have an endless supply of victims and there is no nausea anymore. I have never felt more free. Mandy has since forgiven me. She still sits in her same seat every night. The drinks may make their eyes bleed and their stomachs melt from the inside, but my sad pathetic regulars still want to sit and talk to me. I’ve truly found the perfect situation.