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Royer’s Madcap Experiences: Demon Night

January 16, 2013 Leave a comment Go to comments

By Ric Royer
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Before I can even begin to tell you about the Demon Night, I need to take you back to 1981.

It was in that year, some time around Thanksgiving, that I was placed in a leather fringed onesie and taken to see Dentist Spangles.  There was an interminable wait in a darkened, windowless room– the only entertainment made available were several tattered copies of Jocular Sentences for Children and these I took up greedily.  My father sat staring at his knees as was his habit and after some time he disappeared behind a frosted glass door and spoke testily with a receptionist.

An intercom clicked on and general announcements were made.  My father had returned by then and I saw him quickly place a printed index card into his jacket pocket.  I saw clearly that it said “DEMON NIGHT”.  This I never forgot.

Finally, Dentist Spangles appeared.   “Come back Mr. Royspacks,” he said in an accent that was vaguely foreign.  “It’s Royer,” my father corrected.  “I have this card.  I was supposed to present it to you.”  Dentist Spangles took the card and I noticed that his eyebrows suddenly rose with alarm.  “This case,” he sputtered.  “This case is beyond me.  I’m sorry Mr. Roypacks.”

My father dropped his head, deflated.  And that was it.  We left the building quietly and we never returned.

Two nights ago, I was in an industrial arts class at the Home, fucking around with a pneumatic temperature-controlled glue gun and some concrete bonding agent when I suddenly noticed him. He was sitting alone behind a drill press, fingering a senseless electronic device of his own creation.  It was Dentist Spangles.

He had aged terribly and had deep, dark circles beneath both eyes.  It was also apparent that, at some point, he had been struck by an axe– a long scar was now visible.  “Stay here,” I said to the glue gun and surreptitiously made my way across the vast, ill-lit room.

He saw me coming. And although he did not look up, he addressed me as soon as I was within earshot.

“You will have the Demon Night. I know you have not yet had it. It’s coming. Stay away from me.”

I decided to play it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about asshole but I see that you’re new here and I hate all new things. Let’s go fight in a distant room full of large containers of cooking materials, knocking over several shelving units as we do so.”

“I will not,” he responded after a long period of tense silence. “You must stay away from me. I cannot abide by the Demon Night.”

I hassled him for awhile longer, calling him all sorts of foul names but nothing gave. Finally, I left him alone and returned to my cell.

The Demon Night came shortly after I fell into slumber. It began with an expeditious shriek from very close by and then a sudden invasion. My few possessions were taken up in the fury and I was lifted from my bed. There were a diabolical series of lights and then the commencement of a rhythmic wail that seemed to come from all directions and yet from no direction. And this continued unabated throughout the night; there was nothing to do but succumb to it.

And when I awoke it was morning. My chair had been mangled– what remained had been placed directly against my thin mattress– just inches from my face. A card had been placed on its contorted surface. It, like the chair, was bruised and battered but its message could still be plainly discerned. And it read “DEMON NIGHT”.

I never saw Dentist Spangles again.

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