The Blue Banshee: Summer's Newest Slasher
Comedy Short - Every legend has an origin story
Crickets chirped as the headlights of a Lexus SUV pulled into the old gas station. The tires ran over a hose announcing a customer’s arrival.
Ding ding. Ding ding.
Nothing happened.
The girls inside the car strained to peer through the station’s foggy windows.
“Where is everyone? Does nobody work here?”
“I told you we should’ve just stopped in Pine Mason.”
“And I told you I wasn’t paying six dollars for gas.”
“Oh, what do you care, it just goes on your daddy’s credit card.”
A third girl in the backseat leaned forward. “She’s got you there, Cindi. Now, just hit the horn. This place gives me the creeps.”
“Okay. Okay,” Cindi said.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEP.
Nothing again.
Behind an ice chest, a dark figure flinched.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
The figure slinked further back into hiding, nearly dropping the axe he was holding. The girls hadn’t noticed.
Inside the shop, a toilet flushed.
“Comin’,” a voice called.
A man stepped out of the back restroom, drying his hands on a paper towel. He clipped the dangling strap to the bib of his overalls and made his way outside.
The girls exchanged nervous glances as he approached.
“Oh my God,” one whispered. “He looks like the Crypt Keeper’s grandfather.”
“Be nice. He might show you his good tooth.”
Edgar stopped beside the driver’s window.
“Evenin’.”
“Could you fill it up, please?”
“What’s that?”
“Fill. It. Up.”
The girls laughed at Cindi’s over-annunciation.
Edgar nodded.
Cindi stuck her credit card out the window.
“Cash only, darlin’. Can’t you read the sign?” Edgar pointed toward the front door.
CASH ONLY AFTER 7PM - CARD READER DIES
Cindi stared at it. “Ew. How does a card reader die?”
“Usually around supper time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not what I asked.” Then turned back to the group. “Do any of you have cash?”
Both shook their heads.
“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have any cash. Could we like mail you some money? We’re just heading up to Camp Shikawa. I promise we’ll do it as soon as we get there.”
“Camp what?”
“Camp shi-ka-wa,” Cindi repeated.
The girls giggled.
Edgar scratched his head. “The summer camp?”
“Yes.”
“Fancy place, I hear. Bunch of rich folks sending their kids to do fencing and eat barbecue on real plates.”
The dark figure slowly leaned around the corner, knocking a rusted coffee can off the ice machine.
CLANG.
He jumped back, startled.
The girls’ eyes darted toward the sound.
“What was that?”
Edgar looked past the car. “Didn’t hear nothin’.”
“There’s a shocker,” the girl from the backseat whispered.
“Lot of wildlife round here. Probably a raccoon. They’re always messing with my dumpsters.”
“Right,” Cindi said. “Anyway, can we like get going?”
“Ehh, why not? I’m sure you’re good for it.”
“Really? Thanks bunches, sir.”
Edgar flashed a grin. “Not like you could outrun me if you skipped paying.”
“A potted plant could outrun him,” one of the girls said.
They all stifled a laugh as Edgar filled the tank.
After taking down the address, the girls went on their way. Edgar watched the taillights disappear.
“Nice girls.”
He bent down to pick up a discarded lottery ticket. When he straightened, a towering man stood ten feet away blocking his path inside.
Edgar jumped. “Cheese and cork you’re a big fella, ain’t ya?“
The man just tilted his head slightly.
Edgar shifted where he stood. “Don’t tell me you don’t have cash either. I’m just bout empty of freebies tonight.”
The giant took a step forward off the curb. Edgar eyed the axe that glimmered in the moonlight.
“You from the tree trimmers or something?”
“You can call me the Blue Banshee. And consider yourself—”
Edgar cut in. “Blue Bedsheet?”
“Banshee.”
“Band cheese?”
Blue Banshee’s shoulders slumped. “BAN. SHEE.”
“What tree company are you with again?”
“I’m not with any tree company. I’m Blue Banshee. And tonight marks the debut of the most ravenous and horrifying axe murderer the world has ever known. There will be stories told by campfires for generations on what I’ve—”
“Why aren’t you wearing any blue?”
“It’s more of a mindset than anything. Also wardrobe hasn’t been my first priority.” His tone shifted quickly, clenching the axe and moving a step closer. “Listen, I don’t have to explain my dealings to some codger.”
“No it’s Edgar. Not Rodger.”
Blue Banshee tightened his grip on the axe. “Listen carefully, Edgar. I have spared your life this evening for one reason only. You unknowingly revealed the location of those girls. I am headed to Camp Shikawa. By sunrise, Blue Banshee’s reign of terror shall begin.”
Edgar nodded. “Alright. Well if you’re planning on murdering those campers you better get a move on. Camp Shikawa’s a good two-day trek through the woods.”
“I wasn’t planning on hiking. I’ve got a Hyundai Sonata.”
Edgar looked him up and down. “Doesn’t seem very murderous.”
Blue Banshee scuffed his boot over some gravel.
“Is it blue?” Edgar asked.
“It’s maroon.”
“Maroon?”
“I think they call it Royal Cabernet.”
“Sheesh.”
“But it’s the most fearsome shade you’ve ever seen. It’s like the color of… Of.”
“Blood?” Edgar offered.
“Yes, Edgar. Blood! And it’s severely neglected. I rarely rotate the tires.”
“Okay then. Best of luck, Mr. Bedsheet.”
Blue Banshee let the axe head rest on the ground, then turned and marched toward the forest.
After a few steps he stopped.
“It’s a 2017.”
“What’s that?”
“The Sonata. A 2017.”
“Hope it’s paid off.”
“Mostly,” Blue Banshee said and disappeared into darkness.
“Nice fella.”
Consider subscribing for more comedy shorts.
If you dare.
See you soon,
—Ricky C.
As an automotive service advisor in real life, the neglected Hyundai in desperate need of a tire rotation fucking slayed me.
Great story, my dude!
Edgar is 100% Appalachian, this I know for certain. 😂 Even with the Blue Bedsheet's murderous intentions, he still saw the good in him. That cheese and cork line had me in stitches!!