The Residents

harry Beecher. Because the man don’t live. And what’s the point of lettin' a man like that go on taking up air?

Mrs. Eldright, who just turned ninety-six, which if you ask me, is more than enough time.

Beecher. Cause like Bob was saying when he had the floor, why get to live if you ain’t gonna live.

My vote is for Mrs. Sharon Elaine Hamilton of 11282 Oak Lane who three times now has had a car in her drive with Illinois plates and always when her husband is gone.

The Delaney Twins. You’d be doing the mother a favor. Plus them even being born is an abomination. I know for a fact their momma woulda ended them before they started if it didn’t mean time behind bars. Plus like what Derrick said about all them hospital bills piling up from being born handicapped disabled.

John Gifford, because what he done to his daughter is an abomination.

Delaneys. I saw their momma crying in the window while she was doing dishes. I would say her but if you feed the mom a bullet you may as well give two to them kids because just who do you think is gonna be left to take care of them—Grandpa Gifford—that’s who.

Denver added the last strip to the pile on the table and Dinah came around with more coffee and another tray of eclairs.

“Goddamn, Dinah,” Marv said between swallows. “You make these yourself?”

Dinah was already back behind the counter putting a row of peanut butter cookies next to the chocolate chip in the display case. Her voice came muted through the plexiglass. “I got a friend in Charlevoix drives 'em down.”

Marv shook his head. “All that way…”

Outside, a blue Ford sputtered as it rolled through the stop sign, and one of the eggs from the robin’s nest that had been balancing on the strut all winter fell to the concrete.

Denver lifted his pencil from the paper where he'd been tallying the votes. “So that’s one for Mrs. Eldright. One vote Sharon Hamilton. The vote for John don’t count ‘cause he lives in Hickory Hills and not Green Oak. Two votes Beech—”

“But I thought you said he lives with—” the new guy started.

“I said he stays there,” Denver filled in.

Bob coughed. “When he needs something," and nudged elbows with Derrick. Charlotte threw them a look. Sidney rolled her eyes.

Denver held up a finger, and when the room went quiet, turned back to New Guy. “You gotta be a resident, understand?”

New Guy nodded. Denver continued. “That’s two votes Beecher. Two votes for the twins.” He reached a hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Guess we’ll flip for it then.” He held a fist over the table and balanced the coin on the bed of his thumbnail.

New Guy stood, his chair scraping against the linoleum. “I won’t do it. I won’t put them babies to death.” He tore the napkin from under his plate, scribbled on it furiously, then tossed it into the mixing bowl we’d borrowed from Dinah.

Denver fished it out from the bottom, floated it onto the pile, and made the tick mark next to Harry Beecher’s name.

Bob’s eyes went giddy and he pounded his fist on the table and looked up at the clock. “Hot dog, I believe that’s a new record.”

Whatever way you cut it, thank you for reading! I wrote this using a combination of an exercise out of a experimental form book I like plus this Writing Battle thing I sometimes take part in where I had to write a 500-word piece of fiction (I expanded it slightly for Substack) using the following prompts:

Genre: Small Town Secrets

Location: Bakery

Character: Long-Distance Partner

Then they give you something like three days to write it and once all the stories are in, you have to blind critique five rounds of stories and vote for the winner of each “battle” (while the same is also happening to your story). Then after all the rounds are complete and the winners are selected, you receive all your feedback via email.

The feedback I received on this story was really mixed. Some loved it, some hated it, and some were like, Huh??!

But I had fun writing it and I hope you found yourself entertained one way or another!

In other news:

Hi! How are you? Have you carved your jack-o-lanterns yet? We’re doing ours tonight. My husband makes us wash them first, which I had never heard of but I guess I sort of get? A better writing surface for the Sharpie? Less dirt on the kitchen floor? Now that I’m thinking of it, I should have the kids wash them right now. It would keep them occupied for at least twelve minutes…

Oh, and I did a podcast! With Meg Oolders and Wil Dalton! We talked horror and had a lot of fun and it was nice to see people from Online Substack World in real-actual-life1. The link’s below if you haven’t heard it yet:

Come Friday, I’ll share a link to an old Halloween tradition my dad used to do with me and my sister, so think up some of your own Halloween traditions and tell me about them next week before trick-or-treating one town over followed by cheeseburgers at Burger King.

Until we MEAT again,

🥩🥩🥩