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It was a frozen hot dog. They’d tried to mug me with a frozen hot dog.
“It was nothing compared to what they did to you.” No, it wasn’t. It was so much worse. Because they’d done it to him.
Dan and Vince Go on a Wild Journey in the Unspeakable Horror That Is Frank and Beans’ Home
bags of dog kibble, an assortment of mismatched knives and forks, and several bowls of old, congealing kibble and milk. Behind it was a glass display cabinet filled with trophies. Taped to the top of it was a strip of paper with the words OUR KARATE TROPHIES!!!
“Dan. Buddy. I don’t wanna go in there.” “You don’t have to,” I whispered, but I wanted to haul him against me and make him promise he wouldn’t leave me alone in here. “You can go wait in the car.”
“Don’t let go, Dan,” he croaked. “I’ll never let go,” I rasped back. “I promise.”
“Gimme that zipper, boy.”
Beans walked up my legs and over my ass to stand on my back. He started doing a jig in time with the Alpine folk music,
“We’re not gonna kill you, boy.” Beans sauntered closer, snapping his fingers. “But we are going to take that mighty fine zipper on them there jeans.”
“Say hello to these little puppies.”
This room was filled with more tandem bicycles and—making my blood run cold with horror—a large collection of statue heads, doll heads, mannequin heads and the heads of models cut out of magazines. There were heads everywhere. I was pretty sure I’d had a recurring nightmare like this as a kid.
“All talk and no action makes Jake a dull boy!”
“Stop—getting—sayings—wrong!”
“I’ll stop when I’m fed,”
“God, you are the fucking worst,”
“Darn it,” Frank grumbled. “Out of paintnuts.” “Who the fuck calls them paintnuts?” Vince shouted. Then Beans stopped shooting as well. “Yeah, think I am too.” “Truce,” I yelled immediately, my voice cracking. There was a pause, before Frank suspiciously called, “Did you say Bruce?”
“Oh wait, I think I have one more.” Beans casually aimed his paintball gun at Vince’s crotch and shot before any of us could react. “Hnnnngh.”
Uh… do you have any paper?” Frank looked around blankly, before bending down to pick up a yellow pool noodle that looked like it had been gnawed on. “How about this?”
“This one’s a subtle nude. Great for elegant gatherings. Oooh, this one’s a lovely rouge called ‘Lady of a Midsummer’s Eve.’ Perfect if you’re feeling a little saucy!”
“I’ll write ‘butthead.’ We don’t think that word should be used as an insult. We love our buttholes.” “Mine looks like a beautiful sunbeam,” Beans said,
A minute later, we were finally walking out of the worst house in existence, both of us shaken and dazed and covered in paint. I was clutching a pool noodle with lipstick on it, and Vince no longer had his pants.
He exhaled a shaky breath and slowly released my shirt, then flung his arms around me. “I love you, man.” “I love you too, bro.” I squeezed him tight, admitting in a small voice, “That was so scary.”
“The paintnuts.” I shuddered. “So many paintnuts.”
“What did they do to you, Dan?” My eyes drifted away to stare into the middle distance. “Lots.”
Did they want the zipper?” I eyed him in bewilderment. How did he know that? “Yeah.” “Makes sense.” He nodded
“Did your head fall off?” he asked in disbelief. “Yeah,” I grumbled. “Came so hard it popped right off.”
