Beautiful Nightmare

"House of 1000 Corpses"--Rob Zombie



I knew that Freddy was not in a good mood. I let him use my bathroom, and instead went into the hall bathroom I almost never used to take a shower.



He most definitely had a nightmare, that much I was sure of. But it wasn’t a surreal nightmare, inasmuch as a memory, and a bad one, from the way he was acting. I sighed as I lathered shampoo into my hair. I was going to let him into the dream world tonight. I figured he needed to kill a few kids to set his mind right.



I walked into my bedroom in my towel and picked out an outfit for the day—a red t-shirt with blue jeans and black converses. I got out one of my larger faux-leather purses and put my wallet, my keys, a pack of gum and my glove into it, then looked over when Freddy opened up the door and stepped out of my bathroom, recently washed with a towel around his waist.



“You feeling any better?” I asked. Freddy gave me a look that promised death. “…Guess not. You at least feeling up to going out for the day?”



“In WHAT, bitch?” Freddy growled, obviously not in a good mood. “You tore up my sweater, you recall.”



“I do recall, and I have a solution.” I went into my closet and rummaged around until I finally found a green-and-red men’s flannel shirt, then tossed it to him. “Try that on, and I’ll go get breakfast ready.” Without waiting for a retort, I skipped down to breakfast, checking the time. Just off of noon. I could work with that. I made eggs, bacon, chicken breasts, and coffee all in about twenty minutes, and by the time I was done, Freddy had come downstairs, wearing his usual pants and boots, and was now wearing the flannel shirt, which fit him perfectly.



“You like it?” I asked, making his plate. He sat down and picked up his fork.



“…Sure,” he replied. I guess he was still peeved about the whole ‘taking him down a few pegs’ punishment thing. That, and his favorite sweater was beyond repair. I slid his mug of coffee over to him, which he drank black and ignorant of the piping-hot temperature, and ate my own food.



“…Like I said earlier,” I spoke up after a few minutes, “you can still kill out here, if you want. I know it’s not as exciting as the dream world, but…” I shrugged. “…That, and you’re kinda incognito now. You can use my basement if you want.”



“MY basement,” Freddy growled back.



“OUR basement, then,” I shot back, starting to get annoyed. “If you can behave yourself, by which I mean, if you can keep yourself from getting your ass busted, I’ll send you back to the dream world tonight.”



THAT seemed to get his attention.



“…Alright,” he muttered, downing the rest of his coffee. “What time do you want me back, MOM?”



I rolled my eyes. “Eight o’clock,” I said. “Seven-thirty, if you can.”



“I can work with that.” Freddy polished off the rest of his food and stood up, taking his knives out of his back pocket. I carried the plates to the sink and walked into the coat closet to take out a dark brown trench coat.



“Here,” I said. “The weather’s getting a little cold, and you have some place to stash your knives.” He took the coat and shrugged it on, then hid his knives in his back pocket again. I pulled on my own black denim jacket and slung my purse over my shoulder before taking out the keys. “The town hasn’t changed much; there’s just a new health clinic down 37th, and they finally put up a Wal-Mart.”



“Oh joy,” Freddy muttered. I snickered and walked out the door, locking it behind me. Freddy stepped into the afternoon light, grimacing. “…Wish I would’ve brought my hat,” he said.



“I’m a nightwalker, too, Freddy,” I said. “You get used to it.” I put on my sunglasses.



“…There are SO many names I could call you right now,” Freddy said testily.



“Don’t let me stop you, Fred,” I replied. I handed him a spare pair, my vintage 1960’s round ones. He took them and put them on. I snickered and got into my car. “See you, Fred!” I called, waving to him. He flipped me off in return, and I drove off into Springwood. “…Damn, I hope he doesn’t screw up.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________



When I walked through my front door, I immediately knew that Freddy had been home before me; his jacket was thrown on the stairwell, and my basement door was open. I closed the door behind me, put my parcels down on the floor, and headed to the basement. The light was on, and a door that had originally been boarded up had the boards ripped off and it too was open. I walked inside and saw what I knew was Freddy’s old ‘workroom’.



He was inside, constructing a new glove. On the floor to his left was a dead girl I figured to be about fourteen or fifteen. Her throat had been sliced open, and there were copious amounts of blood that was coagulated between her legs. Freddy didn’t pay her any heed as he picked out new knives and separated them from the handles.



“I see you had a fun afternoon,” I said, putting my purse down. Freddy looked up, then down at the floor.



“Yeah,” he replied. “Little slut was skipping school to hang out with her boyfriend, who was in college.” As he worked on his knives, a lewd smile crossed his face. “…The young man was feeling this little girl up, and she was LETTING him. ENJOYING it.” He snorted and gestured to the worktable, where his old glove laid, only sans the middle finger blade. “So I taught her a little lesson with my knives…and one of them got caught inside.”



I didn’t do a great job of hiding the humor I found in that scenario. I sat down on the only other chair in the room and watched him. “…Do you remake these a lot?” I asked.



“Oh, more than you know,” he replied, picking up a slab of metal and examining it. “One of the things I DIDN’T know was that if I lose my glove in the real world, or if it’s broken in the dream world, it STAYS that way. I have to keep making them with what I have. It gets to be a pain in the ass after awhile.”



“So why not just replace the knife on the old one?” I asked. Freddy shrugged.



“It’s getting old anyway,” he replied. “I might as well make a new one.” He looked at the girl on the floor. “…Where to put this?”



“You provide the body bag, I’ll provide the car,” I offered.



“Perfect!” Freddy set his new glove materials on the table and stretched. “…After dinner. What’re we having?”



“Hope you’re fond of Chinese,” I said. “Orange chicken, fried rice, and sugar donuts.”



“Your got takeout?”



“Hell no, I’m MAKING it!”



Freddy just stared at me. “…You are a goddess among women,” he said, practically drooling.



I picked up a pair of pliers and handed them to him. “Here’s your Academy Award for Best Bullshitter. Now take a shower. You have blood in your hair.” I walked up from the basement and into the kitchen to get the materials for dinner. About five minutes later from the kitchen, I heard Freddy in the shower upstairs, and worked a little faster.



The hardest thing to make were the sugar donuts; the sugar part was easy enough, it was getting the donuts soft and fluffy that was the trick. I finished making those in advance so they could cool for dessert, then stirred in my orange sauce to the chicken breast in the pan on the stove. The rice was done, so I put everything into dishes and set the table, getting out two Samuel Adams and putting them on the table.



“You got anything else to wear?” Freddy called from upstairs. I ran to the hallway where I dropped my bags and picked one up to head upstairs.



“I do, actually,” I said, pulling out some clothes. “I think these are your size.” I gave him a few pairs of pants and some shirts. Freddy examined them for a moment, and seeing that they were to his taste, went back into my bedroom to change. I ran back downstairs and grabbed the other bag before going into my room, where Freddy was almost changed. “I found something else too,” I said, holding the bag out to him. “I was looking at clothes for me in the thrift store and I found this.”



Freddy took the bag and looked inside, then reached inside and pulled out a green-and-red-striped sweater—exactly like his old one, down to the size, only brand-new. He held it in his hands for a moment.



“…As far as I knew, mine was one-of-a-kind,” he said to himself. I shrugged.



“I don’t really know about that,” I replied. “But the look on the clerk’s face when I rung it up was enough to know that it’s the right one.” Freddy smirked and neatly folded it up and put it on the end of my bed, then hauled me in for a kiss.



I let out a small sound, but kissed back and pulled away. “You’re welcome,” I said. “Dinner’s ready.” I led the way out of the room and down to the table.



I had to say, having someone to actually enjoy my cooking was great.



We ate dinner, snacked on the sugar donuts, and drank beer to our heart’s content. And my heart was content being sober enough to make it up the stairs unattended. Freddy, on the other hand, was content with imitating a fish, with the amount of liquid he was breathing in. It was five bottles later that he finally stopped—when my refrigerator was empty of booze.



“Okay, Dreamboy,” I said, hauling him up out of the chair. “Time to go to the land of corpses and blood.”



“Paradise,” Freddy slurred. I rolled my eyes and practically carried him up the stairs.



“You’re drunk,” I commented.



“You’re sexy,” Freddy retorted, reaching down to grope my breast. I smacked his hand away. “…Correction…you’re a bitch.”



“Damn right,” I said, pushing my bedroom door open and setting him on my bed. “You drank too much, after you’re been sober for God knows how long…idiot.”



“Kiss my ass,” Freddy shot back. I huffed and grabbed his shirt pulling it off. “Hell yeah, now we’re talking!” He reached forward for my shirt and I had to again smack his hands out of the way.



“No, Freddy,” I said like I was talking to a child. I picked up his sweater. “We’re going into the dream world tonight. You want to be properly dressed, don’t you?” Freddy snatched the sweater away from me and put it on himself. I suppose the desire to return home was greater than the desire to screw me senseless. After he got the sweater on, I pushed him to his back and took my own glove out of my purse and put it on then slid into bed next to him. “I’ll take you home tonight, Freddy,” I said, holding onto his right hand with my left one. I looked over and saw that he was drifting off to sleep. That gave me the incentive to fall asleep too, and in just a few moments, I was.



When I opened my eyes, I didn’t see my room, or even Freddy’s boiler room. Instead, I was seeing my house—1428 Elm. But instead of the new renovation and paintjob, it looked original.



And there were cops in the front yard.



Suddenly some woman in a business suit came out the front door carrying a struggling little girl with her. She was screaming and trying to get away. “DADDY!!! DADDY!!!”



“NO!!!”



I looked at the door to see Freddy being dragged from the house and away from the little girl. He was being restrained by three police officers. “I WONT LET YOU TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!!!” The officers struggled to keep him in their hold, but Freddy was putting up a hell of a fight, and managed to slam his elbow into one of their faces, causing him to let go. “GET OFF OF ME!!!” The remaining two managed to pin him down to put handcuffs on him. The little girl was pushed into a car. “NO!!! GIVE HER BACK!!!”



“DADDY!!!” She struggled against the door being closed on her. “I DON’T WANT TO GO!!!” She pushed harder. “DADDY!!!”



“KATHERINE!!!” Freddy struggled against the handcuffs and managed to get up on his feet, but he was tackled to the ground again.



Without a second thought, I ran right for Freddy and grabbed him, skidding right out of the front yard and into his boiler room. He was still struggling against the handcuffs and screaming for Katherine. I yanked the handcuffs off into nothingness and turned him over. “Freddy! Stop!”



A fist darted up and collided with my face with enough force to send me skidding into a large pipe. Although I had immunity, it still took me a moment to recover. I blinked and sat up, rubbing the back of my head as I watched Freddy come to his senses and sit up, seeing that he was back in the dream world, wearing his new sweater, and not being subdued by police. He stood up and looked around, and saw me with a bloody nose. “…Great job,” he said sarcastically.



“You fell asleep before I did, and you began dreaming,” I replied, wiping blood from my nose. “I went in after you and brought you back out.” Freddy looked away from me and stalked into his room, sitting down heavily on his desk, his head in his hands. I sat down on his bed, tapping my knee with my knives. “…What happened to her?” I asked timidly.



“None of your FUCKING business!” Freddy snapped, splaying his right hand

reflexively. “Just forget you ever saw that!”



“Okay!” I said, putting my hands up in surrender. “…I’m sorry. I was just getting you out of the nightmare.” I resisted the urge to point out the irony. “…You okay?”



“Just great!” he snapped back. “I’m fan-fucking-tastic! I’m just being kept from my world against my will by an insane bitch who won the favoritism from the Demons!” He threw a few sharp things from his desk in my direction. “And to top it all off, said bitch has access to my mind at any time she damn well pleases! So yeah! I’m PERFECTLY okay!” He slammed his fist down on the desktop, then picked up a knife blade without the handle and held it out to me. “…Go do yourself a favor and stab this in your heart, you cunt!”



I stared at him, blinking. What was with the sudden attitude problem? I looked at him closer and saw something I hadn’t seen before.



Sadness.



Fear.



Outrage that was justifiable.



I didn’t dare enter his subconscious, but I could guess on my own that his own nightmare—the worst of his personal memories—was the day his daughter was taken from him.



But even now, his anger level was out of sync with that memory. Something HAD to have happened after that fact, something to do with Katherine.



I grabbed the blade he had in his hand and shoved it right into my chest. It had been awhile since Anatomy and Physiology class, so I don’t know if I hit the heart, but it was damn close enough. “Now that I’ve granted myself a favor,” I said, feeling blood pour from the wound, “anything I can do for YOU?”



Freddy stared at me, his eye twitching. “Leave me the fuck alone,” he growled. His eyes faded from blue to red, and his skin slowly burned itself back into its normal demon state. He grabbed his fedora from the makeshift hat rack and shoved it on his head before walking out of the room and into the bowls of the power plant.



I watched him go, probably to torture some poor soul who was going to face his wrath rather than his amusement, then sat myself down at his desk. There were some tools and materials for new gloves, should he need them. I absently felt his presence leave this dream area to go to another.



….Is it just me, or are a lot of kids neglecting their Hypnocil nowadays?



Whatever.



I picked up a few of his tools and a glove, already more than a few ideas in mind.