's 2018 Horror Write-off:

Refusal of Service

Submitted by The Bee Keeper

Refusal of Service

It was pouring cats n' dogs as I drove the winding roads back home from the Christmas party. Pitch black and draped in fog, I probably shouldn't have been driving at this hour, but my better judgment had left me about ten Christmas songs ago.

As the wipers squeaked back and forth I became lulled by their rhythm and the endless rows of trees that flanked the slippery road. All of a sudden I was hurled back into reality, something quickly dashed across the road. It was just at the third deer crossing sign. But clearly this was no deer. Deer aren't blue.

My acknowledgement of the thing was too late. As I braked the vehicle continued to slide forward and then skidded into a deadly spin that plowed down two blue figures with a sickening crunch. I had just slaughtered two people I thought. Dear lord, what had I done!?

When I finally got the guts to inspect the carnage, I became quite bewildered. There crumbled and mud soaked under my rear tire were two pairs of jeans...

Just the jeans... nothing else.

Hahaha! I must have seen these pants fluttering across the road on the stormy gale and thought they were people! Oh thank heavens!!!

I drove much more cautiously the last leg of my journey home. Obviously, I was more tired than I thought if I mistook pants for people. Hahaha!


On Thursday I decided to gather up all my more than over ripe shirts from the baskets and load them up in the washer. When I went to grab the washer top door, there on it lay a couple mud caked pants.

Skinny jeans? I don't own no skinny jeans, for, uh... well obvious reasons. Whose in tarnation were these?

I put them on a chair and washed the rest of my clothes. A couple hours later I brought some wood pins, ready to hang everything up on the line. To my dismay, sitting upright in each chair were those skinny jeans, now nice n' clean, while my shirts lay in a disheveled pile across the floor.

I put the jeans up on the line. What else was I gonna do? I figured if'n I'd been at the bottle o' brandy too much, I might as well finish the task? I mean, it's not like I was cursed or something? But y'know, just maybe it be safer to just finish whatever this confounded thing was than to add to the trouble? I dunno...


Yowch!!! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!

I woke up with pins on my eyelids. Pins on my fingers. Pins on my toes. And... and... well, pins in a soft place I'd much rather not have wooden clothes pins!!!

After I slipped all the pins off I groggily trundled into the kitchen and started the expresso machine. The chilly air filled with warm delectable caffeinated steam that just almost made me forget about the little bruises on my... well let's just say dairyheir.

After only a tiny sip of joe, the mug shattered on the tiles below, as my hands began shaking violently from an amalgam of fear and rage. There at the table with glasses of orange juice were two jean pants seated in my chairs.

Oh lord! What sort o' demons are you two!? What on earth do you want with me!?

O'course nothing was said. Pants can't talk. They didn't move. Nothing happened but a very awkward silence.

I folded the pants up and that was that.


Life went back to normal, until Thursday rolled around once more. That's when I woke up suffocating. I flopped around helplessly in my sheets. Flailing about like mad, I finally registered the source of my problem. Ripping off the paper that was taped across my mouth and nose, I finally got a good breathe in.

A news paper clipping? Yes, a news paper clipping. "Joe's Diner, Best in Meadowbrook" was its title. I grumbled some less that child friendly words under my breath and crumpled up that dumb article.

I sat down to a nice French roast and some strips of bacon. When I looked up, there in the other chair was a pair of jeans. Of course. What else could there be? "Ha, long time no see, huh!? Where's that friend o' yours? Sleeping in?! Hahaha! That's a good one doncha think? Cuz y'know pants don't sleep!"


I continued my breakfast per usual after that. The pants did nothing at all. So once more I figured I would fold 'em up.


Again the week flew by. Something was very wrong though. As I woke up to the first rays of sunshine on what was to be a fine Thursday... I realized I was stiff as a board. My legs were numb and it felt like something was trying to suck my belly into its cavernous maw. I was being pushed and pulled and squeezed and crushed! My eyes flew open and I realized that I was driving.

Or rather, the pants on me were puppeteering my blue-ing legs and the other pair of jeans wrapped around my arms were using me to steer. I was unable to free myself no matter how much I struggled.

My stomach got all filled with butterflies as the pick up truck made a reckless dive off the road and across a muddy gully. I nearly bounced right out of my seat and into the ceiling.

Then the truck splashed through a brook. A tin boat morred by a steel pole went scraping against the truck (and probably took my truck's paint off). Screeeeeeeeeeee, crackle, ping, ping, cling!!!

The truck bounced wildly through the woods. Then the trees finally thinned out and there was pavement up ahead. The truck slid across the parking lot and bumped into a van before finally coming to a halt.

I marched up to the restaurant, screaming every profanity I could muster. Then all of a sudden I was free! Haha! FREE!!!

But I slumped down with exhaustion and my face came to rest in a puddle of oil on the cold abrasive pavement.

"What's all this racket!" Old Joe came striding over to my naked bedraggled form.

The two pairs of jeans walked up to him all on their own.


"Aw, hell no! Can't you three dunderheads read!!!" Joe's voice rattled around in my pain stricken skull.

"No shirt! No shoes!"