The Frandy Files

A collection of Frandy's adventures

[frandywharhol-blog]

The Sad kid pt. 2

      “Holy shit I don’t even know why but come in, I’ll make some coffee for you.” Frandy said begrudgingly.

“Hey thanks my guy that’s really swell of you and shit.” This stranger stated in a content and cheery way.

      He walked in and looked around, not only at the copious amounts of debris but also at the obscure and vaguely pretentious wall art as well. As Frandy turned to shut the door after him took notice of how this person’s clothes didn’t really fit, they kind of hung onto them. Similar to a man clinging to life, just barely. Breaking the silence promptly Frandy, awkwardly, as always, stuttered, “Uh ha y-yeah its kind of a wreck in here, I suck at cleaning like a lot I apparently.”

      As if not even noticing Frandy’s embarrassment the stranger replied, “Oh no this is perfect, reminds me of home.”

      Clearly perplexed and taken aback at how this disaster, this graveyard of coffee cups, pizza boxes and only god knows what else could even be considered a hospitable environment let alone reminiscent of someone’s home. The person in front of him looked back, wondering why the sudden silence occurred so abruptly. Taking note of Frandy’s expression, which was a mix of utter confusion and a dash of worry the person said, “Oh yeah no my parents were hoarders, like hella hoarders. I lost my cat as a kid and found it a few days later under a pile, dead,”

       “Uh yeah that doesn’t make me feel any better, thanks though.” Frandy replied dryly, almost like a martini, no rocks just really dry.

      Awkwardly, the stranger being in Frandy’s living said, “So uh, you said something about coffee? That would be nice.”

      Swallowing down his annoyance Frandy replied simply with, “Yeah let me get that started.”

      Catlike Frandy danced around the garbage memorizing their placement, never once touching or tripping over one. He has some talent outside of making messes. Got to the kitchen and started preparing two cups and a pot of coffee, naturally a medium roast because blonde’s taste like piss he always said and darks were just for arrogant hipsters who think tweed jackets are making a comeback, as he always says. Trying to break the silence Frandy, in his nicest tone that he could muster said, “How do you take your coffee usually.”

      To which the stranger said, “I normally take it with 12 spoonfuls of sugar and three quarters of the way with milk.” It’s really great like that.

      “Jesus fuck!” said Frandy disgusted by this utter nightmare’s coffee quirks, “How can you ruin a cup of coffee like that, what did it do to you?”

      “Isn’t that how everyone takes it?” Questioned this utter nightmare.

      “No, Jesus Christ no. You’re literally drinking diabetes. This isn’t coffee this…this…this-“

      “Respect how I take my coffee, man. You’re hurting my feelings. I’m sensitive, okay?”

      Frandy rolled his eyes, not responding while he spooned spoon number eight of twelve into this monster’s cup. He wanted this thing out of his apartment so badly but he had so many unanswered questions, it’s was almost like an episode of Lost. Frandy finished the coffee and brought this pruveyor of evil his “coffee”. Frandy sat on the couch and the source of darkness followed and sat down on the opposite side of the couch. Frandy, facing this person broke the silence and said, “Listen I have a J-Lo assload of questions to ask you and I need quality answers from you okay? Like is that okay with you?”

      “Oh fuck yeah, I’m totally down with answering your questions and shit. I don’t mind. I mean I can answer them as best as I can but like don’t expect much my guy I really suck and shit at this kind of thing you know lol.”

      Seeing that this guy was on board, kind of, Frandy asked the million dollar questions first, “First of all who in the hell are you? Secondly how did you find me and what in the hell is going on? Also what did you call what I have and what is it?”

      The beast that was sitting next to him chuckled slightly, at these so called million dollar questions. They smirked, taking a moment to relish their concoction the milk with it’s notes of copious sugars and the barely there notes of Brazilian nuts and subtle cocoa he swallowed. Looking Frandy in the eyes they said, “Lawl, is this the lightning round or what like shit my dude.” Pausing for dramatics they then continued on, “Well firstly I’m just some person who happens to have this thing called an Irregularity. After that I don’t know what they are or how they happen but we are in the same little life raft pal. Sorry not sorry.”

      “Wow like oh wow you’re just brimming with knowledge. Much reliable, very intellect, such smart.” Frandy replied with a tone that denoted such sarcasm it had potential to kill.

      “Well god damn, if you’re gonna put your sassy pants on at least do so but don’t use shitty recycled memes dude like shit dude you’re better than that. Also like let me answer your fuckin’ burning questions.”

     They paused waiting for a response in kind from Frandy, the silence hung in the air, similar to that of a fart but less odious and subtle in effect. After what seemed like a hot minute they pressed onwards, “To answer your other questions, you were pretty much a coincidence, like a shitty one but one anyways. I didn’t know how you had an Irregularity or that you lived here. I just kind of picked you because it was easy or some bullshit like that, I don’t know. Now as for who I am I’ll get to that later, I have some questions for you.”

      Frandy, feeling his annoyance rise with his frustration at this person opened his mouth as if to say something but only the exhalation of air and the smell of coffee breath escaped. As if not even noticing the not so nuanced response from Frandy this not at all silver tongued devil questioned Frandy, “Now, let me ask this it’s super easy and just involves a yes or a no, I know you can do that lmao. Okay now have you ever seen Monsters? You know white eyes? Crusty ass teeth? Breath that smells like stale Reds and rotten everything in the history of ever?”

      Frandy felt as everything within and outward get otherworldly gelid. His hair became icicles standing on end and his face paled as if he was an apparition. They know about the things and they have a name? Frandy thought. Frandy was clearly taken so aback and it was obvious that the stranger took note.

      “I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Their voice no longer carried traces of silliness and in fact was replaced by a tone of alarming graveness they continued on saying, “Well then I’m gonna dip out I have other things to do anyway. Thanks for the coffee it was delish or whatever those basic white girls say now. I don’t know.”

      They got up and walked over to the door not caring about kicking cups or pizza boxes his gait connoting a desire of disinterest. At the threshold they opened it up and the air hit both Frandy and themself like a punch to the gut, with the exception of bruising because violence is never the answer. Taking a step out into the night, clear skies with a chance of pure curiosity.  Yet they paused only briefly, for what can only be stated as dramatic effect, said finally, “Oh to answer your other question my name is Sage and before I go uh you’re spilling your coffee, I fuckin don’t know if you care or not but yeah you are.”

      As Frandy shut the door the silly and quirky demeanor of Sage changed, with a quickness, the goofy look was replaced by this ominous look and as he stepped forward and lit a cigarette he muttered one word, “Interesting.”

[frandywharhol-blog]

The Sad Kid

      Stars sang while twinkling in their vibratos. Frandy stood out on the balcony of his two story apartment inhaling Christmas, carcinogens, and cold. Alone, he lost himself in thoughts of that boundless void that has consumed his inner dialogues for what could only be described as a hot minute. He chuckled quietly to himself at the irony of essentially being a “sad boi” Tumblr post. He smiled, it was the first time he had smiled in a while and he enjoyed that moment. He thought about why the thought of this new found ability of creating some form of energy, whether that be considered fire or otherwise has all but consumed his thoughts and himself. He knew that this was a huge deal in the grand scheme of his monotony but also as if it shouldn’t consume his very being and yet it did. He felt alone, kind of like the last cigarette in the pack and you end up humanizing it and pitying it and just consume it out of that sheer pity, and a little bit of sadness. That’s how he felt about this situation and the events that have transpired. Ever since he was attacked by who knows what nothing else has happened. He has scoured every page, subreddit that he could find about whatever he was or has. Absolutely nothing. Alone.

      Snapping back the present moment he realized just how freezing it was and how he was shivering, almost to the point that someone could be concerned and someone probably should have been. He retired back into the sanctum that was his apartment. Warm, comforting, safe he felt the tiniest tug of joy in his bones, Frandy is clearly an indoor kind of cat. Looking around the dimly lit abode, it was lit by a whopping total of one candle that was a steal at the good “White Barn”. He made his way over to the candle, his jaunt revealed a certain degree of fatigue but that signature cool apathy was still there. In all of it’s pretention. He blew the candle out, the darkness instantly closing in on him. He lifted his left hand and snapped his fingers and opening his hand an oblong shape that vaguely resembled one of those anime souls that he’s seen on the plethora appeared casting the familiar hues of blue that he has come to expect. It lit the way as he tip toed around the debris of clothes, pizza boxes, and the disgusting amount of Bucks coffee cups. He made his way to his bed.He unzipped his jacket and tossed it and threw his pants and shirt haphazardly near the clothes hamper, they never made into the hamper. He fell to his bed the orb fading away and Frandy lost consciousness before he even hit that good memory foam pillow.

      He found himself falling into a void, similar to one of those falling dreams where you wake up before you hit the ground, but there wasn’t an end point it was just falling. Despite it being dark and not knowing which was was up or down the feeling of falling was present. This has become familiar as of late. This was recurring, to the point of normalization and still this for the a long time felt different. As he looked in whatever direction he was looking in he saw the faintest glow, a light, but it felt like it was a light that you see when you exit a dark tunnel, not like you’re going to “The Other Side” but as you’re riding on a train. It was fast approaching. That glow rapidly became blinding, Frandy’s eyes watering in a discomfort that was still actually comforting. Before he even realized he was surrounded by shades and hues of white that he didn’t really think existed outside of the local Home Depot paint reference cards, he despised Lowes the blue reminded him of Wal-Mart. He felt weightless, not as if he was flying, just floating. Lost in this new feeling he heard it. The laugh, it echoed but only faintly, as if the voice was close but so far away. He heard it again right next to his ear, the laugh. The nice fuzzy feelings gone all that was left was the feeling of Void. Frandy snapped his head around but nothing just the vast empty hues of white and off white.

      “Aye lmao.” said a disembodied voice.

      Frandy was shook the voice carried feelings that were horrifyingly similar to the onset of a panic attack in the middle of a very public and very crowded setting. Frankie held his hand out, that rad looking orb materialized again but this time it was brighter and aggressive, not in a masculine way though.

      “Oh, well shit man, you got a damn Irregularity. Fuck that’s cool.” The disembodied excitedly rushed out, “What can you do with that uh thing?” It continued very interested now.

      Frandy was completely lost, even within his own dream he was completely lost and it must have shown on his face because the Voice took notice.

      “Lol ha yeah I have one of those uh powers. It’s not like yours though I’m actually using it now.”

       Frandy regained, nominally, some composure and the only thing that came out were noises that could only be described as utter confusion. The Voice continued to laugh but it was lighthearted, kind of like the laugh of a mall Santa except with out the “ho ho ho” and picking kids up and putting them on the lap. After a moment the chuckling died down, similar to the laughter on an invisible audience of a sitcom.

      The Voice said, with a vague hint of a smirk from what it sounded like, “Yeah no I pretty much has this badass Irregularity where I can control dreams, I mean I can also make illusions but like this one is way fuckin’ sicker though.”

      For the first time in what seemed like a hot minute Frandy opened his mouth and actual English came out, “Uh where the shit are you?”

       “Are you serious? I literally fuckin’ put on this grand a-f show and that’s all you can say? Dude….bruh….I can’t…like….that’s all you could ask? Ungrateful.”

       “What the hell do you expect? I can’t even see you but you’re acting bold.” Frandy said idignantly. His rad looking orb glowing brighter in his anger.

      As if on cue a being materialized starting out as an outline, more so like a sketch than anything else, real rough. However things got cleaner and finer and soon floating across from Frandy was a person of slim frame almost malnourished like they’ve been starved (probably by capitalism). His hair was ash gray almost as if his hair itself was just set ablaze and burned itself out (probably by the aforementioned capitalism as well) but what struck Frandy the most wasn’t the hair, the build, the red sweater, the charcoal beanie, nor the cigarette (but he did wonder how this stranger was smoking in a dream that wasn’t his), it was his eyes, the eyes were deep saturated blues that made Frandy feel as if he was being swallowed by them.

      “Well god damn there you go, in the flesh, or at least corporeally you know because this is your dream.” Said the strange stranger.

      “Yeah so you know how do I like eject you from my dream…I mean I didn’t consent to this.” Frandy responded ready to eject this being from his dreams.

      “OH well shit yeah I guess I’m outside your door so like uh…fuck that sound bad I promise just wake up and open the door I guess.

      “YOU’RE SITTING OUTSIDE MY GOD DAMN DOOR?! WHY IN THE EVERY LIVING SHIT ARE YOU OUTSIDE MY DOOR?”

      “Well damn this only works if I’m know where the person is first and so like yeah you left your blinds open by the way you fuc-“

      Frandy bolted up, sent out a wisp of energy that floated in the room casting light, because seeing is difficult at night, threw the curtains together with a swiftness that could only be described as Olympic bronze medal. With the aid of the light he threw his pants on, and a crusty t shirt, it had pizza stains on it. Walked out into the living room the light following but still by a miracle was able to trip over at least half the garbage that littered his floor and got to the door. All of this was done in about three minutes and twelve seconds, approximately. He paused at the door and felt the same feeling he felt all those months ago in his arms when he was attacked by that sketchy being, he opened the door and while the door swung open He felt both of his hands erupt with two of those rad orbs, ready to fire. He turned towards is window and there the stranger was, exactly in his dream. This time though he said, “Holy shit man, like I’m ready to die but like can we do it inside? I’m freezing my balls off out here.”

[frandywharhol-blog]

The Talk- Frankie White

[frandywharhol-blog]

The Talk

     Frandy laid there wide eyed and starry mouth. Lost in the warm shades cast through the blinds by the setting autumn sun, polysyncopatic chords dancing in and out of consciousness. He delved deeper into his own thoughts about circumstances and events transpired, because having a normal inner dialogue is ludicrous, in the last weeks. Frandy blinked, lackadaisically, reaching over to the cigarette perched haphazardly on the cheap pseudo crystalline ashtray and picked it up between his pointer finger and his middle finger, his personal favorite due to just being really edgy, lifted it to his lips and they curled around it with subconscious ease. He noticed it had been what only could be described as a hot minute since he has taken a drag of his Menthol Smooth, smirking between the cigarette that so easily sat between his lips he lifted his right pointer finger to the end of the cancer and a small bit of energy appeared and he lit it. Yeah, he has some skill even if he was a loser in the sense of everything. He ignited the end and he took a satisfyingly long inhalation letting the fleeting wave of brief euphoria wash over him, staving off that, “nic-fit”.

     Frandy’s phone roused him from his lull of thoughts and brought him to a sense of alert, no one texts Frandy, with its distinct yet charming Final Fantasy victory tone. He looked to his right and saw a text from Kana.

     KANA: Aye do you want to grab some coffee right now?

     Frandy looked at the time it was cresting to the late eight o’clock hour, he responded:

     FRANDY: Oh heck yeah, give me a few to change and stuff lol. *heart emoji*

     Always send the heart emoji. Always.

     Showing up at Kana’s apartment, conveniently right around the corner from his own, he took the key out of the ignition and clipped the carabiner to his belt loop, he thought it made him cool. Getting out he meandered up the stairway enjoying the now waning sunset casting a really “gnarly” vaporwave-esque glow upon the scene of mix matched cars, vaguely dying and still alive trees that he identified with all too much, and a parking lot that had clearly seen better days. Taking the last steps and rounding the corner he knocked on her door, it took all of three whole seconds which was a new longest record. Kana opened the door and demanded with mock stress, “Get your ass in this damn house, I do not have a face right now.”

     You know because in public territory café’s you are not without a face.

     “Girl, you are fine a-f. You serve all the face on a half a cup of tea.” Frandy responded in kind das he took a step in to the all too familiar abode with it’s all too comforting aromas of, “Fall Candles”. One does not come between, “fall candles” and Kana, you just don’t, insurance does not cover the costs.

     She stood there in a trusty “make up shirt” and shorts that we both knew gave her “the bootie”. She walked back to her bathroom while confidently exclaiming, “You right though.” With a sly and vaguely sassy smile.

     She also reassured Frandy, stating, “Don’t worry though I am almost done. These eyebrows are going to be so on point.”

     If she had it her way she would play in all the make up all the time. This is not an exaggeration.

     Frandy smiled, he loved her dearly. He plopped on down to the couch and pulled out his phone and opened the “Tumblr” application he scrolled through while enjoying a multitude of sensory pleasantries. The “aesthetics” of Tumblr, the “sic” beats of “7/11” by The Queen while also being sung by Kana, and “Fall Candles” cannot forget the fall candles.

     She emerged, sickening as ever. She had painted for the gods, clearly. Her natural hair pulled back slightly with a minimal headband. Her aesthetic much reminiscent of a soft high-class hipster mom from the vaguely upper middle-class part of Edmond, Oklahoma. Her spectacles set naturally on her face as if they have always been there and most stunning of all her black skin had a beautiful warm glow, much like her soul.

     “Girl you’re killing the game.” Stated Frandy with a genuine sense of joy in his voice.

     “Oh, I know.” Smirked Kana, “Now let’s go.”

     They dipped out of Kana’s abode walking down the stairs, briefly pausing for Frandy to light a cigarette, with a lighter of course. Kana did not know of Frandy’s particular gifts and to be honest no one did, save for the assailant but they were kind of not a thing. They hopped into Flynn, him coming to life miraculously. Taking another sweet sweet drag of his cigarette Frandy reversed out, Snap Judgement faintly coming through the 105.7 station on the radio, he was a classy loser of course.

     As they left the threshold of their apartment complex he made a left to go down the street en-route to Pennsylvania Avenue. Kana quickly broke the silence.

     “I am legit going to kill myself, Carol did the thing again.”

     “You’re joking right!?!” Frandy exclaimed loudly.

     This was all in reference to Carol, Kana’s new boss, who low key enjoys going on these high key power trips making everyone’s life obnoxiously harder.

     “Bruh she’s gonna catch these rounds if she doesn’t find some god damn chill.”

     “She’s going to catch these hands if she doesn’t piss off, it’s hard a-f to hang with you in prison and we both know I can’t afford your bail.”

     Taking a drag, inhaling that beautiful nicotine he waited at the Penn and One Hundred and Twenty-Second Street intersection.

     Kana chuckled, “Oh my god I can’t deal, I just can’t with you, Frandy.”

     After a brief but natural moment of silken they made eye contact and exploded in l aughter. Frandy knew he had to tell her, he told her everything, even about the poops (he always told her about the poops). She was the kind of person who was held in the highest of high regards. They had a special dynamic unique to just them alone, she could be referred to as the “ride-or-die mom friend” because that was essentially her.

     They made the right turn into the parking lot and Frandy turned the ignition to Flynn off and he turned off happily. Exiting the ’02 Corolla the Oklahoma wind brushed and wrapped around them with its vaguely cool embrace and brisk smell of smog and the “red dirt ready” grass. They walked in to the café and meandered over to the counter. It was already eight forty-five o’clock or so the normal bustle of people was replaced with the choicest of empty seats and what could be referred to as a “dope low-fi chill step” radio.

     Frandy looked directly at the barista, already knowing what he was going to get and said, “Hey dude can I get an iced coffee with three ristretto shots, two pumps of cinnamon dolce, two pumps of vanilla, and extra soy?” The order was also accompanied by the one-line zing comments of Kana.

     “Jesus Christ, Frandy, it’s eight fifty can you, oh I don’t know chill? Why do you need to be this extra with your coffee?”

     Frandy responded with, “I’m not sorry, don’t shame me for my beverage choices.”

     “Shaming has been achieved don’t worry”

     The barista smiled and chuckled at this display, probably the only display of humanity that didn’t’ involve the phrase, “This tastes funny fix it.”

     Frandy paid and Kana order her flat white. They retired to an optimal corner to enjoy the rich liquids of the gods. The barista called out both of their names and they both grabbed their respective drinks and made their way back to their corner of coffee sipping. Once the barista was out of earshot and Frandy was sure were not going to be overheard, to be realistic, the only other person other than Frandy and Kana was the barista and a coworker that was already in the back doing the back things that baristas do at night, he quietly said to Kana.

     “I have something to tell you.”

     Kana replied, “Yeah, is it about that fine a-f barista daddy.”

     Frandy looked down and a smile began to crack and a chuckle escaped braking the fragile serious demeanor he tried to attempt to take on. Looking back up and rolling his eyes trying to regain a sense of serious composure because she was not wrong, he was fine a-f.

     “Ha, no but you right though, you right. Actually, it’s pretty serious. So, a few weeks ago was at a show and as Flynn decided to have a moment and did the thing again. I was attacked.”

     At this moment Kana was dumbstruck, mouth agape, wide eyed, possibly drooling (Frandy could not tell to be honest). She was able to at least say, “Holy shit. Are you okay?”

     Realizing that this was definitely and– totally the best way to bring this conversation up as a topic to discuss Frandy responded quickly reassuring her, “Oh yeah no I’m fine, he’s long gone.”

     Once again realizing how ambiguous and terrible that sounded as well, silently wanting to disappear and reappear in the vast vacuum of space and explode due to the lack of oxygen Kana responded regaining a weak sense of composure and understanding the gravity of the situation said, “Wait, what do you mean? Like he ran off or...” and trailed off on the “or” implying that Frandy may or may not have “bodied” a thug.

     “Well, kind of.” Frandy replied. “It kind of got swept away in the wind, like it turned to ash after I hit it.”

     At this point, Frandy was sounding like he had LARP’ed one too many times and has taken one too many hits to the head Kana thoroughly confused and wanting to know what was going on said, “Jesus what the hell did you hit him with.” Mind you the whispered and hushed tones that were taken were slowing beginning to rise into an almost worried and loud tone.

     “Well I don’t really know how to explain it but, uh, I shot something at it from my hands.”

     “YOU FUCKIN WHAT?!”

[frandywharhol-blog]

The Discovery- Frankie White

[frandywharhol-blog]

The Discovery

            Purple hair cascading down his face, lips curled around a Menthol Smooth, because Christmas should come every two hours or so, with an aesthetic of quasi apathy he inhaled and exhaled with an expression that could be considered as forlorn. Frandy leaning against the wooded privacy fence, enjoying the ambience of Knocked Loose’s Bryan Garris screaming about how he, “Had wrote a song about getting better.” as well as about how, “It’s a feeling he can’t remember.” oh yeah and, “Counting worms.” and the surrounding conversations of how the tone of some obscure djent band was, “next level but still nothing as good as Meshuggah.” He politely flicked the butt of his cigarette into the proper disposal bin, because being a heathen was not “rad”, to which he proceeded to walk inside attempting to slip out early to avoid the inevitable mini traffic jam that always seems to happen at these kinds of settings. After exchanging a few power high fives, an aggressively masculine fist bump, and the awkward hug from some guy who has a strong possibility of being old enough to be his father, Frandy made it out of the venue just as the final song of the set was finished.

     Getting into his ’02 Corolla he adjusted the rearview mirror, it always seems to move at a complete stand still, and started the car. Pulling out of the gravel lot he turned off towards the direction of home he turned the radio on to the smooth stylings of the National Public Radio just as they were finishing up a story on the worsening state of Flint, Michigan and their ongoing plight of not having clean water. As the story was ending and the reporter was doing their heavily scripted outro, it was then Frandy noticed that his vehicle was losing momentum, not to mention the copious amounts of smoke starting to rise from what he could only imagine was the eighth layer of Hell known only as his engine. He pulled over onto a side road in a neighborhood, safely of course, he sat a minute, car turned off and keys in hand, thinking to himself, “God dammit, why does my car insist on dying out now?” with a look of apathetic annoyance clearly seen all over his face. After a moment he popped the hood and got out, walking around to the front of his car, thinking of what could have caused such an inconvenience, after looking at the car for a solid three and a half minutes, he came to the conclusion that he had no inkling of what was wrong with his car. He pulled out his phone of his coat pocket and called up a friend who would be able to help.

     “Hey Mary Anne, it’s Frandy, yeah no Flynn decided to crap out now. The engine was smoking and I was losing speed” Frandy explained to Mary Anne, a sweet lady of an age where she was enjoying mystery novels and coffee at a leisurely time of ten a.m. consistently.

     “Well dammit.” She characteristically stated, “Where are you stuck, Frandy?”

      “Over off Western and North West One Hundred Fourth Street. I’m next to this crusty looking yard right after you turn in.”

     “Okay, Frank and I will be there in about twenty minutes.” Mary Anne reassured him.

     “Thank you, Mary Anne.” Frandy said as he ran his free right hand through his hair in a combination of relief and to fix it in a way where it was made to look disheveled.

     “See you soon, love you, bye.” Mary Anne said with a degree of urgency.

     Picking up on that urgency, Frandy stated the same thing and the line clicked the call ended.

     He stood there in silence briefly lost in thought when he realized that he really needed to pee, so he looked around, not wanting to urinate on someone’s dying azaleas, he walked out towards Western looking left and looking right and saw a nice corner store, that couldn’t possibly be sketchy at ten thirty or so at night. He ventured out, knowing that he had some time to kill, toward the store. It was mildly brisk, which wasn’t uncommon for a late October in the area. Finally making his way past the parking lot he walked in and headed directly for the restroom to which he finished his business but not before buying a cheap pack of gum so at least to appease the gentleman who appeared to be, “that kind of person”. Exiting the premise, he made his way back on the same path from which he walked before to his stranded vehicle. Stopping briefly to pull out another cigarette and to light it before venturing on

     As he was walking down Western, inhaling and exhaling smoke, he noticed that it had become shockingly quiet for a Saturday evening. The usual passing cars were not to be heard or seen for that matter and Frandy had this odd feeling in his gut, around his spleen to be precise. He looked over his shoulder, making sure that he wasn’t being followed however much to his chagrin and confirming his fears there was a figure wearing a black leather jacket that clearly has seen better days, black jeans of the same condition and a white tank top, if you could call it that, holes were rampant. The only thing he could not see was this figure’s face. Still walking, Frandy kept an eye on him over his shoulder, holding tight to the keys in his pocket, ready to pull them if needed to defend himself. Yet the figure, stood there until very suddenly and with an enormous amount of animosity bolted in the direction of Frandy.

     At that very moment, the cigarette was thrown with a quickness and Frandy was in a full sprint down Western zipping past streets hoping he could put some semblance of distance between him and this assailant. His lungs turning to fire, hating himself and struggling to breathe this assailant was quickly gaining on him. Thinking he had no other choice Frandy turned around, hands wrapped around his keys, his largest being a bent key that he, for some really obscure reason he still kept attached to the carbineer, protruding from between his fingers ready to strike. Everything slowed in that instant, the adrenaline kicking, Frandy aware of all that was going on in he waited until this person was within punching distance, as they approached Frandy he struck the figure directly in what could only be described as an eye and yet it did not impede the force that was this monster.

     The being collapsed onto Frandy as the both fell on to the ground, Oklahoma never really believed in sidewalks, his hands out turned protecting his face and for the first time got a glimpse of its face. It was straight out of a Stephen King novel, gruesome in all aspects. It’s skin could only justifiably be described as someone who needed to be treated in a burn ward, the keys however were lodged into an eye socket yet it’s eyes were white cylinders, no iris, corneas, or retinas. The monstrosities mouth agape, screaming that is only dreamt of in nightmares, with two very jagged rows of rotted teeth and fetid breath that is only rivaled by a pit in the summer with no A/C, was lunging for Frandy’s face.

      Frandy’s eyes tightly shut felt a certain degree of power welling within him, starting from his pounding heart and extending towards his limbs shaking with the weight of this ghoul’s weight upon him. As he opened his eyes two events happened simultaneously. His hands glowing an eerie hue of blue, the kind you usually find in neon in a shady part of town and this   ghoul clamoring to put distance between itself and Frandy. It regained its stance and very quickly backed off still keeping it’s one eye on Frandy. Frandy, quickly got up hands now not only glowing but this ethereal-esque orb forming of what at this point can safely be assumed as “fire”. Frandy, having watched enough anime, pushed his hands forward in the only way he could think of extending what was keeping this nightmare and for once to his surprise not only did something happen but this wisp of “fire” shot itself towards this demon with a speed and force comparable to a baseball being thrown connecting with its target’s directly where it’s heart would be. The monster was knocked down with a gaping hole in its chest, still. Frandy limped over, keeping his hands outstretched just in case. This monster’s eyes were lifeless, more so then when Frandy initially looked at them, to make sure, Frandy pulled his keys quickly out of its eye. Nothing happened, the corpse still. Frandy, relieved, backed slowly, still starting at the body sprawled out on the ground between the two streets. He fumbled with pulling out his phone and as he was struggling, the body began to disintegrate in to ash and oddly enough a wind swept it all away.

      He made it back to his vehicle and in that entire time he still had another ten minutes. Still shaken, he pulled out his pack of menthols, the pack crushed but the cigarettes still intact, albeit a little smashed, pulled one out and lit it finally taking a seat in the driver’s seat, taking a huge well-deserved drag from it, the ember dimly lighting the interior of his car. The window rolled down he stuck his hand out the window trying to experience the that same feeling of power. Really reaching for it, it happened and he saw the same orb from before floating above his outstretched hand, no feeling of discomfort in anyway as if it was just super natural for it to just be there. After a brief minute, all Frandy could say was, “Frickin’ sick.”