User blog comment:HumboldtLycanthrope/The 666 word pasta write off!/@comment-28164447-20160410012749

''Georgie 'n Paulie~ “Hey, Paulie come look at this!” Echoed Georgie’s voice from outside of the gas station’s employee bathroom. Paul turned his head toward the door, “For Christ’s sake, Georgie I’m in the John, what is it?!”

“We got a late night customer!” Paul sighed deeply and zipped up his pants. Being 54 and working at a tiny gas station in a small coastal town was boring and un-fun enough, but now there was the common annoyance of somebody coming in after closing time.

Paul opened the employee bathroom door and stopped dead in his tracks with a look of bewilderment. It was around 7pm in the middle of July so the sun was out of sight, but there was still some dim light hanging over the outside of the gas station’s glass door. “He’s a real looker eh, Paul?” Bellowed Georgie as he coughed and wheezed in unstoppable old laughter.

There was a silhouette at the entrance swaying drunkenly from side to side while weakly banging on the door. “Who is this guy, and why can’t he read a big ass ‘closed’ right in front of him?” Paul chuckled.

“Beats me, but he really looks like he could sober up an inch or two.” Giggled George. Paul made his way over next to Georgie, who was standing right in front of the entrance peering in at the barely visible figure. “You think this guy’s drunk?” Asked Paul. “Sure looks like it.” Replied George. “Hey, buddy we’re closed! Read the sign!” Paul yelled through the glass. The silhouette was obviously a man. Thin and a little short, but Neither Paulie nor Georgie could see through their own reflections to make out just who it was.

It didn’t help that a dense smokey fog had rolled in from the coast. It was hard to see anything about 10 feet away from the gas station. The figure continued to lightly bang on the door and sway from side to side almost falling over with each bang.

“Fucker must be hard for hearin” Georgie said in a low frustrated voice. He speed-walked over behind the counter and pulled out a long wooden cricket bat that had the words “Slim” carved into one side of it. Paul put up both of his hands and got in front of his path. “Georgie come on.” He pleaded. “It’s probably just some drunken old timer like you or me, but he’s just had one too many. Don’t go out there and hit him, alright?”

“I’m not gonna hit him!” Georgie hissed. “Hey, shit stick!” He yelled as he started pounding on the glass with the cricket bat. “Get lost or I’ll make you see stars!”

The figure stopped moving altogether and there was nothing but complete silence for a few long seconds. Then it took its hands off the glass and disappeared in the now dimmer afternoon light. “What I tell you, Paulie? Slim works every time.” A huge bang shook the entire glass wall as the figure was now slamming its head into the door. Georgie screamed and Paulie jumped back from the door. “Fuck this I’m callin’ the cops!” Paul yelled frantically as he began speed walking toward the counter.

“Paul something ain’t right with this asshole!” He yelled shakily. “He’s got no fuckin’ eyes! He’s missin’ his eyes!” “Fuck the line’s down!” Paul slammed the phone down. “Paulie! Get over here and look!

He jogged over to Georgie whose eyes were wide and dry with panic. “Look-look-look!” The silhouette slammed it’s head into the door again and it seemed the whole wall might shatter and shower the two old men in shards of glass. Paul saw more clearly that the figure was indeed an old man, but his skin was grey and shriveled up, and there were two abyssal craters in his skull where his eyes should be.

Before Georgie or Paulie had a chance to say or do anything the old eyeless man rammed his whole gray body into the glass.''