The following story is a complete work of fiction.
Any similarity to actual persons living or dead is completely unintentional...
not to mention I will also be so incredibly jealous too.
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Close Encounters
by Danny
~ Twenty-Second Encounter ~
Later in the afternoon, it started to rain again, not hard like the previous night, but it was coming down steady enough that my brother couldn't ride his motorcycle. I couldn't have been more relived to see that rain!
I hardly slept at all that night between thinking about Damien and his wet pants and worrying about what my brother was going to say if the seat was stained the next morning.
Before my brother or anyone else was up, I got out of bed, dressed, and went out to the garage to check that the leather had dried overnight. Much to my relief it was dry and stain free, however it failed the nose test.
"I just have to pray that my brother doesn't decide to sit on his face!" I joked with myself.
After breakfast, I was out on the front porch oiling up my glove to put away for the winter and that is when I saw that same little brat, Damien, riding past the house on his bike. On his third pass he stuck his tongue out at me and flipped me off. When he saw me stand up, he peddled his bike like crazy and sped away, only to return about an hour later.
I was inside the house, walking from the bathroom to the kitchen when I spotted him through the front window. He was across the street, peeing on our neighbor's flowers. I nearly fell over laughing when I saw our neighbor come running out of her house carrying a bucket of water. Damien didn't see her coming until it was too late. She doused him with the full bucket of water, sending him face first into the flowerbed. I wanted to run outside and cheer, but better sense prevailed this one time. Instead, I watched through the window as Damien jumped up, soaking wet and covered in mud and dirt. What made it even funnier was the fact that, I knew that it wasn't just dirt and mud, our neighbor was religious about applying manure to their flowerbeds twice ever year. Once in spring, and once in the fall. They had just applied a fresh coating of manure less than a month ago. I watched Damien spit out a mouthful of the cow processed fertilizer and wipe at his tongue. Inside I was laughing so hard that I thought I was going to crack a rib.
Then, something even funnier happened. Damien must have been so mad that he didn't say nothing or even look at the lady. He just took off running as through he was being chased.
It was later that night, just a little while before dinner when mom came looking for me. When I first saw her face, I got nervous and wondered why she looked so upset. I did a quick mental inventory to be sure I had all of my chores done before I asked, "What?"
"You're sister was supposed to baby-sit tonight." mom looked at my radio clock, "She's supposed to be there in five minute but she's not even home from the mall yet."
"Uh, ok?" I said not really sure why mom was telling me all this. I should have known that she was setting me up.
"Well, I wanted to see if you might want earn a little spending cash," Mom asked cautiously.
I sighed, "Who's little brats do I have to go watch and how much does it pay?"
Mom went into selling mode, "Its Gladys's daughter's little boy, and he isn't a brat. Gladys said he is a very well behaved boy and it will only be for a couple of hours."
I finally agreed, "Oh, alright but my sister's going to owe me big-time!" Little did I know that I had just set myself up for another `close encounter'.
I was still dressed and only had to put on my shoes before I was ready to go. Since Gladys and her husband just live around the corner, I didn't bother getting my bike out of the shed. When I rang the doorbell, Gladys's husband Bill, who used to coach my little league team, opened the door. Bill is one of those really likable older guys, but acts as if he's still in his twenties and thirties. Even though he's married to Gladys, he still flirts with every lady he runs across. I always have liked Bill and Gladys until I saw who they wanted me to watch for them.
"Damien?" I said when I saw the little beast.
Bill smiled, slapped me on the back and said, "So, the two of you have already met?!"
Damien looked horror struck. He was standing beside his grandmother, Gladys, trying to look cute and innocent, but I knew better. Boy did I ever! Gladys came over, and just like always, she grabbed my cheeks, pinched them and said, "Oh you are such a handsome, handsome, handsome boy!" My cheeks always ache for several minutes after she's done pinching them.
"I can't tell you how please we are that you could sit with young Damien here," "Bill said, slapping me on the back again. I wondered to myself if there was an old Damien, probably his father.
"Is your sister ok?" Gladys asked with concern.
"Oh yes, just fine." I wasn't sure what mom had told them about my sister, so I didn't say anything more.
I was shown where the emergency numbers were kept, given instructions for Damien's bedtime and got slapped on the back once more as Bill said, "Don't burn the house down! No wild parties and don't drink the blue water in the toilets!" He let loose a giggling belly laugh as he pulled the door closed.
The instant I heard the door latch, I spun around and gave Damien the meanest, deadliest stare down I could muster up. I got quite a bit of pleasure seeing him standing there looking worried and concerned. When I moved my left foot only slightly, his entire body convulsed. I felt like laughing the way those evil scientists did in those old-time movies, "Muhahahahaaaa!"
Quick as a whip, I thrust my right hand toward him. He jumped, threw his arms up to shield himself and made a sound, much like a weasel being crushed by stampeding elephants. "Tell you what... Let's forget about before and start all over again."
Damien crinkled up his nose and tilted his head to one side like a confused little puppy.
"Come on, let's shake and be friends," I said.
Apprehensively, Damien reached up and took my hand, but only briefly. He wasn't totally sure he wanted to trust me yet, but I knew I had to earn his trust or I'd never be able to find out more about his wetting problem.
Before Bill and Gladys had left, Gladys had said that there was Sausage Ravioli for Damien's supper and if I was hungry, I could have the leftover meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy in the refrigerator.
I should be ashamed of myself for taking advantage of every opportunity to cause Damien to jump in alarm, but then, it was the least the little monster deserved. I clapped my hands together loudly and asked; "Ready to eat?" and that boy jumped a good foot in the air.
He didn't speak, only nodded his head once, but never took his eyes off of me, and I also noticed that he was purposefully keeping his backside pointed away from me. The memory of spanking him made my hand tingle again and it dawned on me that he was scared that I was going to spank him again. Little did he know that he was the first and only person I had ever spanked intentionally. If there was any spanking going on around me, it was usually dad, mom or the school principle doing it to me!
When Damien didn't budge, I smiled wider, pointed toward the kitchen and said, "So, you going to go eat or should we just stand here all night?"
He still didn't move, so I stepped around him and went into the kitchen without him. I wasn't surprised when I saw him peaking around the end of the wall into the kitchen.
"BOO!" I said and stomped on the floor.
Damien's arms flailed as he leapt into the air again, but this time, I gave him a good scare. I could see it in his eyes that he was fighting back the tears.
I knelt down in front of him, "Hey, I'm sorry Damien, I was only playing."
A word to the wise... NEVER, and I mean, never-never-never, let your guard down around a little beast like Damien! That little twerp smacked me across the face and tore off running upstairs. He hit me so hard that, by the time I got my eyeballs shoved back into my head, he was gone and had barricaded himself in one of the upstairs rooms.
"I'm going to kill him!" I said to myself as I put the can of Sausage Ravioli into the can opener. "I'm going to squeeze his little head like a pimple and use his pants wetting little wiener for a pencil topper!"
While the Sausage Ravioli were heating on the stove, I went to the downstairs bathroom and checked my face. Aside for a slight redness where his hand had made contact, there were no other visible signs.
I figured I better check on the little monster to be sure he hadn't tied the bed sheets together and climbed out one of the upstairs windows. I slowly crept up the stairs and observed that all of the doors were open, and at the far end of the hallway, the bathroom door was partially closed. I could see that the bathroom light was on and someone was inside.
I continued to the top of the steps and stopped to listen, I could hear Damien in the bathroom and it sounded like he might be on the toilet.
With cat-like stealth, I eased closer to the bathroom door and peeked through the crack between the hinge side of the door and the doorjamb. Damien was sitting on the toilet, but still had his pants on. His face was buried in his hands and he was sobbing intensely. He was also talking to himself while he wept, but it was hard to make out just what he was saying. However, I did pick up on this much, "He's going to kill me! He's going to come up here and kill me until I am dead, dead, dead!" Damien shook his head as he howled, "I wish grandma and grandpa would come back right now!"
I didn't know what to say or what to do but opportunely, my nose detected the aroma of the Sausage Ravioli that I'd left heating on the stove. I slipped back downstairs without Damien having even the slightest inkling that I'd been spying on him.
After removing the Sausage Ravioli from the hot burner, I went back to the foot of the steps and called up, using the sweetest and nicest voice I could, "Damien buddy, I have your Sausage Ravioli ready. Come on down, you don't want to let them get cold. There's nothing worse in this world than cold Sausage Ravioli... well except for maybe warm ice cream."
He didn't come down, at least not right away and I honestly hadn't expected him to either. I had lowered the stove to the lowest setting and left his supper hot so that if he did come down, it would be ready for him. He didn't make an appearance until after I'd taken out the leftovers from the refrigerator. I had heated them up in their microwave when I heard Damien on the steps.
I kept my back to the kitchen doorway and listened. The little bugger still managed to startle me. I didn't hear him come up behind me, I mean right behind me. He sniffled and I jumped, hit my head on the range hood and spun around.
Rubbing my head and gritting my teeth, I said, "Oh man that hurt!"
Damien had backed up against the cupboards, frozen with fear. I actually felt bad for the beast for a second. "Listen, I'm not mad at you. I promise. I figure that I deserved it for scaring you before and I am sorry for that, ok?"
Damien seemed to melt a little. Still rubbing my head with on hand, I asked him, "Hungry?"
He nodded twice.
"One plate of Sausage Ravioli ala Chef Boyardee coming up!" I said in a bad Italian accent.
Without saying a word, Damien backed out of the kitchen and into the dining room which was on the other side of the peninsula that divided the two rooms. I watched as he backed all the way to the far side of the table, pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.
He didn't say anything until about half way through dinner. I'd made it a point to sit right beside him when I brought my plate over. At first, I think it unsettled him, but once he started eating, he settled back down again.
I had taken a swig of my 7UP when Damien said something so softly that I had to have him repeat it so that I could hear him, "Please don't kill me."
That nearly caused me to choke on my beverage. Before I could respond, I coughed, burped and cleared my throat. "Do you really think I am going to kill you?"
Damien nodded his head as though he was trying to drive his chin through his chest.
I watched him for a minute. I could tell that he was working up his nerve to ask another question and I gave him the time he needed to find his courage.
When he finally did ask, he blurted out the words so fast that it came out like this, "Are go-ank me?"
I chuckled mildly, "Want to run that one by me again?"
Damien seemed to be aggravated with himself. Before he tried to speak again, he took a deep breath and blew it out as if he was blowing out the candles on a cake. He was so tense that his shoulders were all the way up around his ears and his eyebrows were nearly touching.
Much slower he asked, "Are you going to spank me?"
I tried to lighten the mood with a little joke, "Only if you want me to."
He looked alarmed and shook his head hard enough to scramble his brains and twist his head right off his narrow shoulders. It made him dizzy and he swooned in his chair.
For a second I thought he was going to fall out of his chair, but he recovered by grabbing hold of the table to steady himself.
"Be careful little man!" I said.
Boy did his eyes light up when I called him that. I mean, he perked right up and even managed to smile. We finished our dinner and Damien disappeared while I washed up our dinner plates. When I finished, I went to wipe off the dining table and push in the chairs. That's when I saw the puddle on the hardwood floor beneath the chair where Damien had been sitting. The seat cushion was absolutely soaked with pee and the thought ran through my head that if Damien had my sister as a baby-sitter tonight, he would be in for it! But tonight he has me, and I am slightly reluctant to admit that I was more than a little pleased to see the mess.
It took me a minute to locate a mop and get the floor cleaned up. The seat cushion was a different story altogether. I had located several towels from the basement laundry room. They were lying on the floor, so I assumed that they had not been washed yet. I dabbed at the cushion until I couldn't get any more wetness to appear on the towels, then I poured two cups of water on the cushion and started dabbing it dry again. I did this two more times to be absolutely sure that there was no urine left in the cushion and that it was as dry as I could make it before I felt that the task was done.
After dropping the towels into the washer and starting it, I went looking for my little pants wetting buddy, however, I couldn't find him right away. I'd searched the entire first and second floor and was starting to worry that he might have gone outside when I heard a crash in the basement.
"Now what did he do?" I said aloud to myself and then raced down the basement steps.
At first, I couldn't find him downstairs either, but then I caught a whiff of the kid and followed my nose. The basement was only partially finished off as living space and when I went around, what I saw was the furnace room. I found a large area that was totally unfinished. It was filled with boxes, old Christmas and Halloween decoration and some unused furniture. On the floor, in the middle of this area was the remains of what looked like a blue ceramic table lamp.
I sniffed the air and cleared my throat.
"I didn't do it!" Damien cried out from some unseen location.
"Well, was it an accident then?" I asked.
"I didn't do it!" he cried again.
"Can you help me clean it up?" I asked.
"No, you will spank me!" he said softer.
"I said I wouldn't, and I won't." I reassured him.
For his age, the little devil in boyish form was smart. He said, "Then Grandma will when you tell on me."
"No I won't!" I said as cheery as I could, but I was slowly getting tired of this boy.
"Liar!" he called out.
Before I could say something else, he said, "And you will tell on me for..." his voice trailed off without finishing his thought.
I guessed that he was going to say for wetting his pants at the dinner table, so I finished for him. "For getting your grandparents nice chair wet and wetting on the floor too?"
Damien was silent except for his panicked breathing.
I cleaned up the chair and floor for you so they won't ever know that anything ever happened. And I am washing the towels too so they won't be able to smell the pee in those either.
He still didn't make a sound.
Not sure what else I could say to reassure him, I went to where I had found the mop and took out a broom and dustpan to clean up the shards of glass.
Damien must have thought I had gone back upstairs because he'd come out of hiding and was rooting around inside a box. He was nearly upside down inside of the box with both feet off the concrete floor. His body was sort of teetering on the edge of the box. I stopped and watched for a couple of seconds before the devil got into me too. It only took a slight tap on his shoe with the broom to send him toppling into the box.
"Aaaaahhhhh! HELP! HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!" Damien bellowed loud enough for someone on the moon to hear him.
His legs and feet were kicking about wildly, but he was truly stuck upside down in the box, unable to free himself. I took several steps back out of that part of the basement and did my best to pretend that I was calling from upstairs.
"Damien where are you?" I said.
Damien screamed harder and louder for me to come to his rescue, so I did, but not until I let him panic a bit more first. When he was good and horse form screaming; then, and only then did I make myself known.
"Oh there you are!" I said as thought I'd only just found him. "I heard you calling for help but it sounded like you were upstairs. I looked all over, even under all of the beds."
"Please, please get me out! Please!" Damien cried.
"Stop kicking and hold still." I instructed.
Damien stopped thrashing about but still pleaded, "Please, please, help me!"
I took hold of either side of his waist and lifted him from the box. I suppose a nice person would have flipped him over and set him down on his feet, but I didn't. Instead I lowered him headfirst to the floor and held onto him tightly.
"Let me go!" he cried, "Please don't spank me again!"
"I said I wouldn't spank you, but I didn't say anything about not putting you down."
Holding him upside down, I made him walk on his hands over to where I'd left the broom and dustpan. I knew that my shirt was getting wet by holding onto him like I was, but I didn't really care. I had formulated a plan and I was committed to making Damien clean up his mess. I made Damien pick up the dust pan and then carried him back over to the where he'd broken the lamp. One by one, Damien picked up every single piece of shattered ceramic and placed it on the dustpan.
"Is that all of it?" I asked.
"Please let me down now!" was his reply.
I didn't let him down. Instead I twirled him in my arms so that he was upside right and facing me. I could see that he had been crying and his face was nearly as red as ketchup.
I don't think he knew what to do or say, or maybe he was dizzy from having been upside down for so long. Shocked isn't strong enough of a word for how I felt when he leaned forward, rested his head on my shoulder and wrapped his arms around me.
Remember what I said before about not letting your guard down around Damien? I allowed myself to actually believe that Damien was hugging on me, but he was just grabbing on so that I didn't drop him when he kicked me right in the main bean machine.
"Ooooooh!" I screeched and fell to my knees. Tears began to fill my eyes as I crumpled into a ball holding myself.
I have no idea where the little fiend went to and I had no plans on going to look for him again. He beat me this time and all I wanted to do was get out of the house, go home and lick my wounds... so to speak.
Damien stayed in hiding the rest of the evening and didn't show himself until Bill and Gladys returned. As a matter of fact, aside from going to the basement one more time to put the towels in the dryer, I did nothing but sit in the living room and wait for their return. When they walked in and asked how things went I lied and said that Damien had been a little angel and had been playing quietly in his room most of the evening. Damien came into my line of sight and I fired daggers at the monstrous dwarf while Bill paid me for the evening. I was thanked profusely as I was leaving and Gladys gave me a piece of Strawberry Shortcake that they had brought home for me.
When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom, stripped off all of my clothes, tossed them into the hamper and lowered my aching balls into a tub of cool, pain relieving water. I swore to myself that tomorrow, if I was able to walk, I would find my sister and punch her dead in the face. After all, it was her fault that I ended up having to go over and watch Satan's little bastard child. As destiny would have it, the next day would present me with an opportunity for some payback for both my sister and that horrid, rotten, beastly spawn from the deepest, darkest parts of Hell that even Steven King wouldn't dare to write about. At least that is how it all would start, but the end results would be more than I could have ever imagined or expected.
If you are enjoying this story, please send me a short (or even a long) email to let me know at m12@thedoghousemail.com. You're kind words are like fuel to my creative self!