The Portal: An Original Story by Jennifer Weigel
Kyle opened the fridge to grab a beer. “Hey, bro. How could you?”
“What, man?” Darius hollered towards the kitchen from the living room, still engrossed in his WWII Flying Aces game, his fingers dancing rapidly over the controller as he shot down enemy planes.
“You ordered pizza without me!” Kyle retorted. “And the last piece has mushrooms… you know I hate the fungi, bro.”
“What pizza?” Darius asked, still focused on his game as he leaned left with the wing of his aircraft as it tilted to avoid a retaliatory strike.
Kyle sauntered into the living room, beer in hand. “What pizza?” he quipped as he rolled his eyes. “The one in the fridge in the Pie Shack box with the last lonely fungi-ridden piece of crap in it…” he jeered.
“I didn’t get a pizza, man,” Daruis shrugged as he flew into a tailspin and crashed to the ground, struck down by enemy fire. Again. “You’re breaking my jive, man,” he said as he tossed the controller to the cluttered coffee table and got up to investigate. He walked purposefully but nonchalantly to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
Sure enough, there was a Pie Shack pizza box there, on that weird mid-level shelf that’s too short to hold much of anything useful (like beer), above the well-stocked sea of Brew-skee Lowball Lager below, which took up the entire bottom shelf. Darius opened the box to find a single piece of thin crust pizza bearing cheese, onions, peppers and mushrooms. But no sausage. He’d have ordered sausage.
“I dunno, man,” he replied as he grabbed a beer and popped the can tab. “Pie’s not mine, no sausage…” He returned to his game.
Kyle wandered down the hall shaking his head and mumbling, “Whatever, bro.”
The next morning, there were two slices of pizza in the box where the one had been the night before, both the same kind smothered in cheese, onions, peppers and funky wrinkled up black mushrooms. Kyle smirked and grabbed a half-gallon jug of white liquid that was supposed to be milk out of the fridge door. He unscrewed the cap, gave it a sniff, and put it back. He grabbed the pizza and dissected it, removing the offending fungi and flicking them into the box lid before he stuffed the rest of the slice in his mouth. After devouring both pieces, he tossed the box and mushroom bits in the trash and left. Darius was still crashed out in his room.
After work, Kyle returned to find a new pizza box on the mid-level shelf above the Brew-skee. The text on this box was greasy and obscured and almost appeared to read Pi Shaq.
“Who’s using our fridge?” he yelled down the hall.
Darius moaned. “What?!” he shouted back from behind his closed door.
“Someone’s using our fridge, bro,” Kyle hollered as Darius stumbled down the hall and into the kitchen, scratching his head.
“Really, man?” Darius shrugged and popped his shoulders. He overflowed a bowl with Captain Crunch cereal and opened the fridge. “Where’s the milk?”
“I dunno. It should be in there,” said Kyle. “There’s another pizza…”
They opened the Pi Shaq box to find a half of a large pizza, thick crust with red sauce and unappetizing green tentacles. As the dim yellow warmth of the kitchen overhead light radiated over them, the tentacles appeared to almost… move… Darius massaged his brow and shook his head as they closed the lid on the box, returning the tentacles to their dark comfort, and put it back in the fridge.
“It’s gotta be those guys Brad and Marcus from 4B effing with us,” he said as he dumped half the remaining pot of coffee on his cereal and proceeded to shovel it into his mouth with what would have otherwise been a serving spoon.
“Fine,” retorted Kyle. “I’ve got the tech – we’ll set ‘em up, Candid Camera style…”
“Whatever, man,” Darius replied as he retreated to his room, his bowl of coffee Captain Crunch in tow.
Kyle set up the webcam later that day, aimed and timed perfectly so that the motion sensor would set it off anytime anyone opened the refrigerator door. But the only footage he got was of Darius grabbing a beer later that afternoon.
Yet, that evening when they returned from a Chinese run to the Red Devil up the street, they opened the fridge to find that the Pi Shaq box with the green tentacle pizza was gone. And now there was a tripped out head in a jar in its place, shoved into the back right hand corner of the fridge on the top shelf. Darius turned it around towards the corner, “so it’ll stop staring at us, man.”
Kyle dropped off his leftover Kung Pao Chicken and closed the refrigerator door. He tweaked the webcam, tied up the trash with the first Pie Shack pizza box, and took it out to the dumpster. Darius returned to his WWII Flying Aces game, beer in hand.
Later that night, Kyle opened the fridge to find that his Kung Pao Chicken was gone and the head jar was facing forward again. A platter of what appeared to be sushi filled the mid-level shelf where the pizza boxes had appeared. The overstuffed sushi rolls were filled to the brim with the same green tentacles, which writhed slowly when exposed to light. Bulbous fish eyes in the middle of the tentacles seemed to follow their every move.
“Bro, check this out,” Kyle called to Darius. Darius paused his game, wandered into the kitchen and had a look. Together, they stared at the wriggling mass in silence.
“I don’t think it’s Brad and Marcus,” Darius finally spoke. “What is it, man?”
“I dunno,” Kyle exclaimed.
“Well then, what should we do with it?” Darius asked.
Kyle grabbed the head jar and the platter and heaved them both into the trashcan, which was outfitted with a fresh new bag from after he’d taken out the previous Pie Shack box earlier. They landed with a soft thud as they hit the empty bottom of the plastic bin. He tugged the bag off of the edges of the trashcan, tied it off in a haphazard knot, and handed it to Darius. “Your turn, bro,” he said.
Darius dragged the mess to the dumpster and hoisted it in. When he returned they opened the fridge and stared.
It was completely empty. There was no pizza, no milk, no Kung Pao Chicken, no sushi, no head jar… Even the empty glass butter dish that had come with the fridge was gone. But, most notably, the sea of Brew-skee Lowball Lager had vanished – there was no more beer to be found!
The refrigerator found itself on the curb beside the dumpster that very same night.
And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
Continuing our junkyard dawg werewolf story from the previous St. Patrick’s Days… though technically he’s more of a wolfwere but wolfwhatever. Anyway, here are Part 1 from 2022, Part 2 from 2023 and Part 3 from 2024 if you want to catch up.
Yeah I don’t know how you managed to find me after all this time. We haven’t been the easiest to track down, Monty and I, and we like it that way. Though actually, you’ve managed to find me every St. Patrick’s Day since 2022 despite me being someplace else every single time. It’s a little disconcerting, like I’m starting to wonder if I was microchipped way back in the day in 2021 when I was out lollygagging around and blacked out behind that taco hut…
Anyway as I’d mentioned before, that Scratchers was a winner. And I’d already moved in with Monty come last St. Patrick’s Day. Hell, he’d already begun the process of cashing in the Scratchers, and what a process that was. It made my head spin, like too many squirrels chirping at you from three different trees at once. We did get the money eventually though.
Since I saw you last, we were kicked out of Monty’s crap apartment and had gone to live with his parents while we sorted things out. Thank goodness that was short-lived; his mother is a nosy one for sure, and Monty didn’t want to let on he was sitting on a gold mine as he knew they’d want a cut even though they had it made already. She did make a mean brisket though, and it sure beat living with Sal. Just sayin.
Anyway, we finally got a better beater car and headed west. I was livin’ the dream. We were seeing the country, driving out along old Route 66, for the most part. At least until our car broke down just outside of Roswell near the mountains and we decided to just shack it up there. (Boy, Monty sure can pick ‘em. It’s like he has radar for bad cars. Calling them lemons would be generous. At least it’s not high maintenance women who won’t toss you table scraps or let you up on the sofa.)
We found ourselves the perfect little cabin in the woods. And it turns out we were in the heart of Bigfoot Country, depending on who you ask. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never seen one. But it seems that Monty was all into all of those supernatural things: aliens, Bigfoot, even werewolves. And finding out his instincts on me were legit only added fuel to that fire. So now he sees himself as some sort of paranormal investigator.
Whatever. I keep telling him this werewolf gig isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, and it doesn’t work like in the movies. I wasn’t bitten, and I generally don’t bite unless provoked. He says technically I’m a wolfwere, to which I just reply “Where?” and smile. Whatever. It’s the little things I guess. I just wish everything didn’t come out as a bark most of the time, though Monty’s gotten pretty good at interpreting… As long as he doesn’t get the government involved, and considering his take on the government himself that would seem to be a long stretch. We both prefer the down low.
So here we are, still livin’ the dream. There aren’t all that many rabbits out here but it’s quiet and the locals don’t seem to notice me all that much. And Monty can run around and make like he’s gonna have some kind of sighting of Bigfoot or aliens or the like. As long as the pantry’s stocked it’s no hair off my back. Sure, there are scads of tourists, but they can be fun to mess around with, especially at that time of the month if I happen to catch them out and about.
Speaking of tourists, I even ran into that misspent youth from way back in 2021 at the convenience store; I spotted him at the Quickie Mart along the highway here. I guess he and his girlfriend were apparently on walkabout (or car-about) perhaps making their way to California or something. He even bought me another cookie. Small world. But we all knew that already…
If you enjoyed this werewolf wolfwere wolfwhatever saga, feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
You’ve seen me as Theda Bara, a Witch, and a Necromancer already (as well as Cleopatra, Elvis, and Andy Warhol) but here are some more fun costumes I’ve worn while figure modeling for the Friday morning art group at Hutchinson Art Center. The group is switching to Saturdays but hopefully I’ll still be able to make it in from time to time… Life’s a circus, or maybe a magic act in a shamanic ritual with Holly Hobbie… At any rate – beam me up Scotty, I have your missing spaceship part…
Yeah yeah, so none of that was really all that terrifying. Just another time warp in all honesty. At least there’s still some residual Rocky Horror vibes to be found, but then again, there usually are with me when I get into the identity based costumes.
But in follow up and in the spirit of so much of my other randomness, here’s a music video for Everything Changes by Eytan and The Embassy. Check it out if you want to see some more fun costumes in an immersive homage montage experience unlike any other. (If the video doesn’t load, just follow the link here.) See how many artists you can recognize in this quick change setup. Ready… Set… Go!
Here’s another view of Heaven in this twisted little afterlife story from Jennifer Weigel, titled All That Remains. Trigger warning: religious themes, suggestions of rape & murder.
I didn’t remember dying. I only vaguely remembered the thread of my life being weighed at the pearly gates. And now, here I was, in awe of the splendor of it all. I looked at the Heaven all around me. Everything was light and love. The sunlight sparkled off of the hills and valleys of the clouds, casting everything in a gossamer glow. Angelic faces shone with mirth and merriment from their depths. It was the most beautiful visage I had ever seen.
Until he showed up.
“Hey there, glad to see you made it,” Sebastian said. His words slithered off his tongue, just as they had during the trial. “I’m here to serve as your guide, to show you around Eternity.”
“But…” I stammered, looking at my feet. I still felt repulsed by him, couldn’t stand to look him in the eye. I wanted to strangle him, but I managed to tamp that feeling down by averting his gaze. “How did you get here?”
“I accepted Christ into my heart, just as you did. Isn’t it beautiful?” He grinned. His red hair bobbed up and down as he nodded. “Forgiveness is a blessing.”
“One you didn’t deserve,” I muttered under my breath, unsure of the proper etiquette or protocol for engaging with others in this place, or just how and why he would ever have been forgiven for his sins. “Where is my daughter?”
Sebastian frowned. “I’m sorry to say she never accepted Christ into her heart, and so she isn’t here,” he answered.
“What?” I seethed, anger bubbling from where it had roiled just below the surface. “How can this be?”
“Look, I don’t make the rules,” Sebastian spoke.
“But you’re here. And she’s not. No thanks to you!” My voice trembled as it rose.
“I understand your frustration. But it is what it is,” he replied.
“You’re the one who killed her!” I yelled, no longer able to contain my fury. No one else seemed to notice, too wrapped up in their own afterlives to care.
“Yes, but that was before. And I paid for that with my own life. In the electric chair. Your justice was served,” Sebastian said.
“I know, but…” I sighed. “Why isn’t Julianne here?”
“Like I said, she didn’t accept Christ into her heart as we did. It’s that simple,” Sebastian reiterated. “We just went through this.”
“Don’t you regret that?” I asked.
“Regret what? That she hadn’t accepted Christ? How would I have known? And it wouldn’t have mattered at that time, anyway – I was a different person then. Regret is an interesting concept; I never really did get it.” Sebastian pondered aloud. “Even after I became a Christian. I suppose I knew I’d done wrong as far as anyone else was concerned, that I acted from a place of selfishness when I raped and killed those girls… Inner turmoil. Let’s call it inner turmoil. But that was in the past.”
I began to hyperventilate. This just couldn’t be happening. My beautiful daughter, her golden blonde hair and blue eyes forever etched into my memory. My baby girl, so sweet and innocent and naïve. She never should have hitchhiked that ride. If only I’d known what she was up to… She hadn’t even seen her sweet sixteen, she was only fifteen and a half at the time of the assault.
“It doesn’t matter now. Had Julianne accepted Christ into her heart, she’d be here with us now. She did nothing else wrong,” he continued, interrupting my reverie. “I suppose then I’d have done her a favor.”
“Wait. What?!” I asked, obviously fuming.
“I know now that she hadn’t. But I would have had no way of knowing that then. And it was before I converted,” he went on. “If I regret anything, it’s the two that came after.”
“After what?” I harped at him. “After my daughter! You killed four more girls since then.”
“No,” he whispered. “After I accepted Christ. I slipped up. I tried; I really did. But my needs weren’t being met and I found ways to justify it at the time.”
“You disgust me,” I spat. “How can you even consider yourself a Christian?”
“I am no less so than you at this point, considering where we are,” he replied. “We are both here now, are we not?”
“I suppose, but still…” I answered, taking inventory of my surroundings. I was sure I’d been granted admittance into Heaven, that I passed the test. I vaguely remembered having done so, and walking through the pearly gates. Was this all an illusion?
“I am a true Christian, as you are,” Sebastian continued. “Just as I’m still a Scotsman no matter how I take my tea. Shall we begin our tour?”
He reached out to me, palm extended in a gesture of grace. I wasn’t wholly sure of where I was, which version of Eternity I’d landed in. Everything about this place was still so glorious, peaceful and serene. And yet…
If you enjoyed this story, please feel free to check out Heaven (based on the Talking Heads song) and Angels Meeting in the Hallways. And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
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