Pay Day Gremlins

It’s payday. The worst day of the week.

I was diagnosed with a sleep disorder on my twenty-third birthday.

Nothing they’ve seen before.

I don’t know why they thought I cared.

I sleep fine. Eight hours a night. Wake up clear-headed, brush my teeth, make my coffee, go about my day. And they still call it a ‘sleep’ disorder.

The doctors assumed I was schizophrenic at first, but the scans showed I was sleeping. I asked them why that would be, I’m clearly awake.

It was easy to laugh off at the start. Even fun, sometimes.

As long as I stayed cheery.

I see little flickers at the edge of vision. Black smudges running across the floor. Whimsical little dudes playing tricks on me.

“Next!” the cashier barked. I shuffled forward, two heavy steps.

The envelope in my hand felt like a brick. Could’ve been, I guess. But it was payday—why would I bring a brick to the bank?

“Psst,” a whisper from somewhere I didn’t see. I looked around: a curved counter with thin plastic dividers, steam-washed chairs to lounge in. A suspicious number of geriatrics.

“Psst.” Again.

I scanned again, more frantic than before but trying to stay calm. Drawing attention is the worst choice; it gets worse when I’m stressed, and there’s nothing more stressful than a dozen eyes calling you strange.

“Hey, fucko!” I looked down at the feet of the lady in front of me.

A gremlin—as far as I could tell—was peeking around the pleated beige of her pant leg. Ears half the size of its body, green as a dollar bill, and about as tall as a paint can.

I wiggled my eyebrows at it. It giggled, covering its mouth with little dagger-tipped fingers. I smiled back.

I must be in a good mood today.

It dipped behind the pants, disappearing. Should have poked around the other side if it was real—it was too big to hide completely behind her bony leg.

Because that’s how I knew it was fake.

A giggle again. I scanned the room, looking for it. A fun little game of hide and seek. It was killing time same as me.

“Next!” The cashier shouted again. The line crept forward a couple steps.

There—perched on a banker’s shoulders like a kid hitching a ride. It toyed with his thinning hair, tugging tufts up and letting them flop down, rocking side to side with a toddler’s glee. I stifled a laugh. The banker turned, locking eyes with me, sending the gremlin tumbling and wheeling its arms.

A laugh bubbled up from deep, only stifled by a smothering hand. He frowned at me.

Not here. Not now.

Fucker’s funny, though.

My phone buzzed. I fished it out, Face ID unlocking automatically. A text from Mom.

MOM: Hey honey. Need u 2 call me when u get a chance.

Great.

I sighed, sliding it back in my pocket. She had a knack for wedging herself under my skin. Plant a worry and walk away. She either desperately needs another box of that sugary cereal she likes or Carol died.

There was really no way to be sure.

A crash from my left, back by that banker I was avoiding. I craned my eyes, trying not to look like I was looking at him again. No gremlin in sight, just a cup of pens spilled across the floor.

“Next!” Another shuffle.

I was only a few people from my turn. The gremlin was fun, but Mom’s text set me on edge and I was ready to get gone.

A blur of green, claws clicking like typewriter keys across the tile. It crossed the lobby to the right side and darted into an empty office. It pounced, flying high before landing on a desk, throwing a computer monitor off the table in a cloud of papers.

The crash was loud and I smiled again. Chaotic little guy.

Everyone turned their heads at the commotion and my heart stilled.

Confused murmurs accompanied a rising security guard walking toward the office. He rounded the corner, slipping behind the glass case of the office.

The gremlin pounced. Its eyes beamed red, mouth stretched obscenely wide, revealing large, sharp teeth. It landed on the guard’s chest, claws digging deep into his vest, and ripped his throat out—pale gristle and ribbed tube hanging red in its jaws.

Panic rinsed me, a shriek escaping my jaws. I stumbled backward. My head spun and I fell over the partition behind me, cracking my head on a trash can. The resounding ring mimicked the stunned silence in the room.

I sat up, frantically looking for the bloodied gremlin, ready to run.

The security guard—and everyone else—looked at me. He was fine, throat intact. No blood, no gremlin. I looked around again, eyes still trained on me.

“Sorry,” I muttered, clambering to my feet. My hands shook. I couldn’t tell if I was embarrassed or terrified.

I brushed myself off, considered bolting. Maybe try that new mobile deposit they kept pushing.

“Next!” The line shuffled ahead, but I stayed put.

“You movin’ up?” A cowboy with a caterpillar for a mustache looked at me funny, hesitant to pass.

“Yeah, I’m movin’ up.” I stepped back in line, rubbing the back of my head.

“You okay, son?” The southern drawl wrapped around my thoughts.

I turned back. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” Flashed a smile.

He looked at me blank, lifted his mustache, but didn’t respond. I turned back to the front. Almost done here. My stomach was in a knot. I needed to calm down before I went full nightmare.

Daymare? That’s dumb.

I focused on my breathing, feeling the weight of the letter in my hand.

“Psst.”

Fuck no.

“Hey, fucko,” it rasped, voice warbling like a busted kazoo. It was behind her leg again. I avoided looking at it. “Watch this.”

It peeled a claw down her pants, red blossoming in its path. The pant leg ripped open, torn flesh weeping onto the floor.

The woman didn’t react.

I flashed a thumbs up at hip-level—a “cool bro” thrown its way. Maybe it’d leave me alone if it didn’t get a reaction.

Its green face—now marred with blood and warts—twisted in anger. I grinned at it.

“Next!” The woman walked away from me, stepping over the gremlin, leaving a red trail in her wake.

It flashed its big teeth at me and disappeared behind the desk.

My phone buzzed again.

MOM: U gonna call me back?

ME: Yeah, Mom. I’m at the bank.

I pushed my phone back in my pocket. Always so damned impatient. I breathed through my teeth. Just a few more minutes and I was out of here. Catch a cab, call Mom, and go have some dinner.

“Next!”

Finally.

I walked forward, careful not to step in the blood trail. The cashier eyed me as I approached.

I was getting really tired of those looks.

“How can I help you?” she asked. Her hair was pretty, milky brown like a Tootsie Roll.

“Just need to cash this check.” I slid it on the counter and she took it, sliding it into that little scanner machine. It chewed it up, thought about it, then spit it out.

Verified.

A blur of green behind the desk, then back. I smiled at the lady.

“Cash or deposit?”

“Cash please,” I responded. The gremlin hopped on the back of her chair, tilting its head at me. It’s tongue lolled out of its mouth, dripping and much too large for its mouth.

I looked down at the desk, avoiding its antics. I plucked a DumDum out of the cup, spun it in my fingers.

“Those are for kids,” the cashier said flat.

“I can’t have one?” I asked. She shook her head. I put it back, rolling my eyes.

The gremlin plucked a letter opener off the desk, the metal glinting under the overhead lights.

“Should I do it?” it asked.

“Do what you want,” I dismissed.

“Excuse me?” The cashier looked up, almost offended.

I shook my head. “Sorry, ignore me.”

The gremlin grinned, teeth flashing. It raised the letter opener over its head, mimed mocking stabs to its own throat.

“Here you go,” the cashier started laying out bills and counting it like I could keep up. “Would you like an envelope?”

The green beast dropped its hand, plunging the blade deep in her neck. Her throat opened like a pocket, blood splashing hot against my cheeks. She choked, hands going up to honor Wu-Tang.

“Yes, please,” I responded, trying to keep my cool. Blood coated me and my cash like a dye pack, but I kept smiling. Made too much of a fool of myself here already.

“Hey!” A shout from behind me. Footsteps fell fast, getting closer.

I turned, the blood on my tongue tasting nothing like Tootsie Rolls. The security guard charged me. “What’s going—”

He hit me. Hard. I sprawled, and he was all over me—knee in my gut, arm twisted tight, palm pressed tight on my cheek.

“Goddammit, kid!” The security guard was pummeling me, wrenching me onto my side despite his weight. The clatter of fumbling cuffs filled my ears and someone in line screamed.

The alarm blared overhead, lights flashing red. People rushed around the lobby, some out the front door.

“Hey, fucko.”

I tilted my head up, cheek squeaking on the tile, barely able to breathe under the guard’s knee. It skipped up to me and gingerly placed the letter opener by my face. It crossed its arms and grinned, cocking its head.

“She wanted that cereal.”