Our hazy love spell was broken when a scream rattled the walls. Miles, Renee, Raj, and I ran back up the steps to see what the commotion was about. The deafening screams came from Debbie and Bob’s room. I pushed my way into the room and sucked in a startled breath. There was Debbie with a bloody knife, and Bob’s lifeless body on the ground.

“Holy fuck!” I yelled, backing out of the room and into Miles. “Wh-wh-what happened?” I mumbled. Renee stood next to me with her hands over her mouth.

“Exactly what was supposed to happen,” Debbie said in a malicious tone. “The old asshole was supposed to be killed until you ruined everything with your fucking food fight. The idiot was having an affair, and all my money was at risk. This was my chance to off him and make it look like it was all part of the game. Do you understand what it’s like to have sex with this shriveled dick? It was deplorable and sickening. There wasn’t enough Viagra in the world to help his dick get hard.”

A gentle laugh came from somewhere in the room, and Bob’s dead body shook with mirth.

“Oh my God, he’s alive! Call 911… again!” I screamed.

“Alan,” Debbie groaned. “How are you supposed to be dead if you start giggling. Dead people don’t laugh, you moron.”

My eyes turned into large saucers as I looked from Debbie, who had completely lost her southern twang, to a not dead Bob… or Alan on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.” Bob, or was it Alan, sat up and laughed. “I lost in when you said the bit about Viagra.”

“Someone better explain this fast before I whip out my karate skills and beat everyone’s ass down,” I said.

Renee leaned into me. “Um, you don’t have any karate kills.”

“Shut it. I watch Walker, Texas Ranger with Chuck Norris.”

Debbie/Sarah walked over to Bob/Alan and helped him off the floor. “My name is Sarah Morgan and this is my husband Alan. We own the house.”

“Oh my God. I’ve stepped into One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” I flapped my arms while chiming out “cuckoo.”

“Things weren’t exactly supposed to go this way, but Alan had to brush up on his acting skills.”

“So you’re… actors?” Renee asked.

“Yes. This whole thing was a setup.” Sarah smiled as if she just won a Tony for best actress.

“What about Sean and Marie? They were taken away by the police?” Raj added.

“Actually, they’re down the block having a cup of coffee. Everyone was in the charade, including Sam and Destiny. They’re drama students at the local college.”

A minute or two passed before everything came pouring out like explosive diarrhea. “You’re fucking telling me we drove through Cowville, USA to stay in this Agatha Christie piece of shit house. And Sam, or whatever the hell his name is, was hitting on me for no reason, but to get your jollies off? To top it off the worse offense: A poor Danish had to die on my behalf! What about the matzo balls? Were they real? Or were they just store brand biscuit dough that had no special meaning to anyone but me?”

“Aww, what happened? Did she figure it out?” Ryan said with disappointment as he came into the room.

“You!” I turned ready to charge Ryan like a bull seeing red. “This was your stupid idea?”

“I thought it would be a great Halloween prank—”

Before he could finish what he was about to say, I charged him and we both went crashing to the ground. I hit him over and over, screeching something about dead Danishes and mythical matzo balls while Miles, Renee, and Raj tried to pull me off what would be a very dead Ryan if I had my way.

Later that night and many scratches on my arms later, Miles and I walked into his house. Dilion and Kelly where on the couch watching television. “Dad, Moxie! Your home early, I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“We thought we’d come back early and spend time with you.” Miles picked up his son and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I was just going to tuck him into bed,” Kelly said as she stood up and turned off the television.

Dilion turned in Miles’s arms. “Moxie, will you read me a bedtime story?”

“Sure, bud. Go brush your teeth and I’ll be right in.” Miles put Dilion down, and he scurried off to get ready. Miles and I said our good-byes and thank-yous to Kelly for looking after Dilion.

“You okay?” Miles asked, rubbing the scratches on my arms.

I let out a small laugh. “I’m fine. Ryan fights like a girl.” Miles followed my laughter and kissed my arm and then kissed my lips.

“Get Dilion settled and then come to bed. Then I can show you my spooky ghost hiding under the sheets.” He winked as he took our bags to the bedroom.

I walked into Dilion’s room and found him already tucked in to his bed. “Moxie, tell me one of your stories.”

“Are you sure? This one could get scary.”

“Yes!”

I grabbed an extra blanket off Dilion’s bed and took the flashlight, which he kept on his nightstand. I turned off the light and covered my head with the blanket. Then I turned the flashlight on and pointed it to my face. Dilion giggled as he crept under the covers even more. I began my horror story.

“On a dark, spooky night. There was a beautiful woman who was in a graveyard. She was being followed by something very rare. It was something she’d only read of in books, and she didn’t believe it truly existed.”

Dilion peeked out from under his blanket. “What was it? Lost treasure? Someone who was killed?

“No. Something far worse.”

Dilion gasped.

I moved my eyes side to side, pretending to look if someone was listening, and then whispered, “It was the perfect matzo ball.”

As a little girl it was always a dream for Z.B. Heller to become She-Ra Princess of Power. Since this dream was unobtainable, she spent what was probably way too long in college trying to "find herself". Becoming an artist scratched the creative itch until the stories in her head were getting to be too loud for her to get anything else accomplished. She lives in St. Louis with her husband, son and Flemish Giant rabbit, Chloe. In her spare time she likes to read, stalk celebrities on Twitter and create the type of art that people scratch their heads about.

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Twitter: @zbheller

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The Chronicles of Moxie

Jerry Finney blinked at the zombie blocking the sidewalk in front of him. He did not have time for this today.

He was running on empty as it was, having spent the last three days tracking down a thirteen-year-old runaway. He’d delivered the girl to her grateful parents around two that morning and grabbed a few hours of sleep before Mickey, his mutt, had nudged him awake, ready for their morning run.

A dark-haired dominatrix walked up to the zombie and handed it a carryout cup of coffee and a donut. The couple smiled and waved at Finn then moved down the sidewalk.

He hated Halloween.

He slugged back the last of own lukewarm coffee as he walked into the small strip mall that housed his private detective agency, Finney Investigations. As he absently perused the newspaper, the headline of a jewelry store heist caught his eye, and he prepared himself for the rash of calls he’d get today from concerned businesses looking for extra security details.