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Down in the Dirt v059

this writing is in the collection book
Decrepit Remains
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Decrepit Remains, the 2008 Down in the Dirt collection book
I really didn’t hear that

Benjamin Green

    “You gotta do it because it’s part of the initiation rite.
Unless you’re scaaared.”
    Annie glowered at the three boys standing in a semi-circle around her.
She challenged, “You gotta let me in!”
    Billy, the leader, shot back, “Why?”
    That buffaloed Annie.
At last she managed lamely, “Because you hafta do it, that’s why.”
    The trio huddled, and began to have an animated discussion.
Almost as soon as the meeting was called, it broke up.
Billy walked up to Annie, until he was only six inches away from her.
The other two took up their positions to the left and right of Billy.
    Their arms were crossed over their chests, and slight smiles creased their lips.
Billy hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, his gesture half mocking, half defiant.
He insisted, “We don’t hafta because we don’t allow no chickens.”
    Annie got ready to blow up again.
She thundered, “I am not a chicken!”
    Billy sneered.
“Oh yeah?
Why don’t you prove it?”
    Annie saw her opportunity.
She asked, “Prove it?
Did any of them have to prove it?”
    The boys exchanged a look.
Each of them had to pass an initiation rite to get in, but they weren’t asked to prove their courage.
That was accepted as a given, but they weren’t going to say that.
Not to a girl, at any rate.
    Finally, Billy managed, “You’ve been accused of being a chicken.
If you can prove that you ain’t, we’ll let you join our club.”
    Jill mulled this over for a quick minute.
She realized this was probably the only real chance she had of getting into the club.
However, a part of her shivered at what the boys would think up to make her prove her courage.
    Finally, she said, “You’re on!
What do I have to do?”
    The boys huddled for a conference.
None of them had foreseen the confrontation going this far.
They figured she would fold if presented a united front of opposition.
Since she hadn’t, then it was time to escalate.
    They argued about things to ask that she wouldn’t do, like eat worms, or kiss a slug.
Finally, Billy said with a wicked twinkle in his eye, “I know!
She has to stand on old man Rumplemeyer’s grave, and urinate on it.”
    One of the boys asked, “Do you think it’ll be enough to scare her off?”
    Billy smiled a bright, shark like smile, and said, “Sure, when we tell her how it’s haunted.”
    The late David Rumplemeyer had a bad reputation as an urban hermit, and misanthrope.
He lived on a small farm on the outskirts of town.
He had a rusting truck on the front lawn, with a tarpaper shack behind it.
The sight of a scraggly old man relieving himself on the front lawn, and cursing anybody who got too near had greeted many tourists.
    Kids liked to play baseball or football on the empty lot next to his property.
However, few had the courage to go onto his property if they lost one of their balls on it. A hail of stones and curses almost invariably chased those that did off.
    One kid had the bright idea of throwing rocks back at Rumplemeyer.
The kid was rewarded for his bright idea by seeing the old man retreat-and return with a sawed off, double-barreled shotgun.
    Few people mourned when he finally died, but a whole mythology quickly grew up around his plot in the cemetery.
It was widely whispered that if someone stood on his grave, he would reach up from the grave, and hold them until they died of fright.
    Billy said, “Here’s what you gotta do.
Go into the cemetery at night, and urinate on Old Man Rumplemeyer’s grave.”
    Annie gasped.
“R-R-Rumplemeyer’s?
In the cemetery at night?”
She had heard the same stories as the boys had.
    One of they boys taunted, “Whassamatta?
Scaaaaared?”
    Annie said, “No, I was just confirming the instructions.”
Then she glowered at them, challenging them to try to rebut her statement.
None of the boys picked up the gauntlet.
    That night, Annie had a hard time sleeping.
She was too keyed up for her midnight caper.
When she heard her parents go to bed, she got out of bed.
Then she reached under the pillow for the Buck knife residing under it.
    Jill waited until she heard the luxuriant snoring of her father before she set out on her big adventure.
First, she skinned out of her panties.
Then she went into the bathroom, and fortified herself with two glasses of water.
Finally, she marched to the cemetery with determined strides.
    The fact that a young girl traipsing down the street in the middle of the night, and clutching a pocket knife might be seen as odd never entered Jill’s mind.
It would only discourage her from her holy mission of proving the boys wrong, and calling their bluff.
Fortunately, a policeman didn’t stop her.
    She marched into the cemetery, and quickly found David Rumplemeyer’s grave.
It was off in a neglected corner of the cemetery, as if the living refused him his final dignity.
    Jill felt her resolve weakening.
Then she saw, in her mind’s eye, Billy and his cronies laughing at her.
That did it for her.
Jill hiked up her nightdress, squatted, and released the yellow flood.
    When she finished, she unfolded the Buck knife, and drove it deep into the earth.
Then she turned to go, but found that something was holding her back.
    An icy finger of fear touched her heart.
She had enough time to scream, “Help, help!
He’s got me!”
Then an icy fist grabbed her heart, and squeezed.
Annie fell over, her face stamped in a look of fear.
    The next morning, her corpse was found on Rumplemeyer’s grave, the Buck knife driven through the material of her nightdress.
The funeral was three days later.
Billy was there because he felt guilty about what he had done, but he wouldn’t have admitted it.
    He was bored, because the preacher was delivering a long-winded eulogy, and there were a bunch of crying adults standing around.
Out of sheer boredom, he began strolling through the cemetery.
    Morbid curiosity drew him to Rumplemeyer’s grave.
Billy had been staring at the grave for several minutes when he noticed a square flap of sod.
He lifted it, and was immediately assaulted by the cloying stench of corruption.
    Instead of seeing a solid patch of earth, there was a dark tunnel in the dirt.
Intrigued, Billy leaned closer.
At first, there was only silence.
Then, a horrible sound-like a man laughing with a mouth full of graveyard dirt.
    Billy slammed down the sod, and said, “I really didn’t see that.”
Then he scooted for the safety of the funeral party.



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