Mark's Merry Mayhem

By Mark Tufo

Most of you know I’m not known for my short stories, apparently I’m much too long-winded. But on occasion there are some things I just need to pull from my head and put on paper. I hope you enjoy this small glimpse into the things that keep me up at night.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Tufo
• Release date: Dec 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781370750528

Mark Tufo

Mark Tufo was born in Boston Massachusetts. He attended UMASS Amherst where he obtained a BA and later joined the US Marine Corp. He was stationed in Parris Island SC, Twenty Nine Palms CA and Kaneohe Bay Hawaii. After his tour he went into the Human Resources field with a worldwide financial institution and has gone back to college at CTU to complete his masters. He lives in Colorado with his wife, three kids and two English bulldogs. Visit him at marktufo.com for news on his next two installments of the Indian Hill trilogy and his latest book Zombie Fallout

Book preview

FUCKING PEPPERONI PIZZA

I don’t know why I did it. Mayhaps because it was Thursday night and the Giants were winning. Maybe it was the massive amount of alcohol I’d consumed (two whole manly beers), but I got up off that couch and I nuked two slabs of frozen pizza. I say slabs, because they had about as much taste as the box I pulled them from. Didn’t stop me from eating them though, oh no, didn’t do that. It’s amazing what a little sea salt and Cholula hot sauce can do for a subpar snack. So I ate them knowing full well that pepperoni gives me heartburn like no other food on the planet. Add to that the fact that it was somewhere around ten at night. There was a perfect acid storm brewing in my belly just waiting to explode out my throat. (Too graphic? Did I paint the picture?)

Anyway, the Giants won. I went upstairs, took a quick shower, played a couple of games on my Ipad, and called it a night. I guess it was somewhere around 12:30 by now. Maybe it was the beer or the full stomach, or both, but I fell asleep pretty quick. Drives my wife nuts I can do that. I think it was something I learned from my days in the Corps. Fighting men and women from around the globe will know what I’m talking about. If there is a moment of downtime, you are either playing cards or sleeping -- true fact. So now I’m minding my own business, pretty much off in dreamland watching hovering unicorns, um ... erm I mean chest beating gorillas. Yeah, that’s what I meant. That’s when it hits me. The belly mountain blows, sending streams of white hot lava-like acid into my esophagus. I’m about choking on the sharp biting liquid ripping through my throat.

I knew immediately my folly; my arch-nemesis, Pepperoni, had struck again. I fumbled in the dark for the bottle of antacids I have on my nightstand. (This isn’t my first rodeo.) I pop the cover and eat two chalk tabs, thanking all that is holy that I did not draw the much hated cherry flavored ones from the mixed berry bottle. I was looking around our room while I patiently awaited the fire in my throat to quell. Not much to see, considering it’s pitch black -- all except the bathroom. Tracy has this little lit up display in the corner next to the tub; basically, it’s a fancy nightlight ... something to guide your way when nature calls. For a little ass light it does pretty good, well, I mean comparatively, anyway. So naturally, my eye drifts that way. Can’t really see much from our bed, just part of the vanity and the mirror above it, and then the mirror reflects the skylight that is farther into the bathroom.

I took a quick glance at my clock; I think I groaned silently when I saw the 3 a.m. staring back at me. Not because it was the witching hour, but rather because my brother Gary was going to be over at 8:00 to help me put in some electrical wiring for a light in the hallway. I hate not getting enough sleep; makes the whole day seem kind of washed out. So now my throat is feeling decent. I’ve choked down the medicine, and I’m ready to once again call it a night. Until for some fucking reason I decided to take one more glance into the bathroom. At first everything seemed fine. Then my gaze wandered to the corner of the mirror that reflected the skylight.

A broad white face was peering back at me. My heart about exploded through my chest in a matter of three beats. I mean that’s not even possible, right? In theory, if I could see it in a mirror, then it could see me, but I’m in absolute darkness, I hadn’t left my bed, the room might as well have been dipped in an ink well. I didn’t do that crap where you close your eyes and then open them hoping this was some sort of nightmare. I kept my eyes glued on that face. But to call it a human face would be like calling Twinkies a health food. And how did it get up there? My roof was at such a severe angle, I’d had to pay the roofer a hazard duty bonus just to climb up and fix some holes.

It’s just a snow owl, it’s just a snow owl, I said four or five times ... right up until a claw-like hand etched a circle into the glass, if I wasn’t mistaken it was in the shape of a pizza!

MIKE IN TROUBLE AGAIN

Hon, it’s Sunday. I don’t want to clean the garage.

You promised me before spring that you would straighten it up. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s July, Tracy said, her hands on her hips.

The Sox are on, I begged. Her steely gaze didn’t change. It’s friggen hot out. Still nothing. I was running low on options.

Better get going before the heat of the day really kicks in, she said, turning around and walking away, and not leaving any room for further discussion.

Wonderful, I said as I stared into the abyss that was our garage. It looked more like an overstuffed storage unit than a place to park. This blows. I didn’t even have a clue where to start. There was barely enough room to open the door.

The first box I grabbed was labeled kids. Apparently, at some point in their playing careers,