Club of the Grotesque

Flea markets: the Mecca of antiquarians and hoarders alike. The first search for underpriced antiques hiding among the worthless junk. The latter uses them like a drug addict uses needles, the hunt and acquisition of more stuff gives them a high. Lying in the middle of these extremes are average people: the garage seller, the poor, the stingy, the bored. However, there is a minuscule amount of people who can’t be put into any category. A group that shouldn’t even exist in polite society. Chad McDoon belonged to this group. A rear breed of grotesque art buyers. The more outrageously grotesque, the more outrageous the bragging rights.

His hunts have taken him to many flea markets over the years, but this find was unlike any before. A painting of hell with a demon standing on a ledge overlooking three people burning in a lake of fire: an eighteenth century British soldier, a flapper girl from the roaring ‘20s, and a hippie in jeans and a tie-dye shirt. The red-skinned demon was half-goat from his waist down, and half-man above, except for the goat horns atop his head. He stood looking down at his prisoners with an evil smile that sent shivers down Chad’s spine.

“How much?” Chad asked the proprietor.

“This painting?” The proprietor gave a look of unbelief. “Do you mean this painting?” He pointed at the hideous picture just to make sure there was no misunderstanding.

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s an original from a very popular artist. I couldn’t let go of it for less than an hundred.”

“I thought about getting it as a gag gift for a buddy of mine, but that’s too high.”

“Okay, throw out a number.”

“Twenty-five.”

“I just couldn’t. I did mention the very popular artist? How about Fifty?”

“No, I’ll have to pass.” This wasn’t Chad’s first rodeo. He knew the proprietor hated this painting. Every proprietor hated the painting he wanted. Some of them just give him the painting for free.

Suddenly, a woman came from the back room. “It’s yours. Twenty-five is fine.”

“Honey?” The proprietor whispered.

Chad was taken back by her sudden appearance, but he quickly recovered and handed her the money, before the gentleman could say anything.

After Chad left. “Why did you do that? I make the deals. Remember?” The proprietor looked more hurt than angry.

“That painting has been in my dreams ever since you bought it. It’s been haunting me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know that I love you and that I’m in complete agreement about living in the back of the shop. It makes great financial sense. I actually started to enjoyed it, that is, until it arrived. Since then, I’ve been feeling a pull that I can’t explain. Many nights I would wake up with an inexplicably desire to walk towards that painting. Last night I did. I got out of bed and made my way to the shop. I could see the horrible painting only a few steps from me. Then suddenly, I felt a presence behind me. I was too scared to turn and look, but with every fiber of my being I knew the demon was behind me. The pulling of the painting grew stronger, and I started walking towards it again, even though I didn’t want to. I don’t know what would have happened if I made it to the wicked thing, but before I got there, you yelled out for me and the pull went away.”

“You told me you just wanted some coffee.”

“I couldn’t tell you, because I was barely holding it together. I’ve never felt so afraid in my life.”

“If I knew that, I would have thrown the hellish thing into the dumpster. I’m sorry, Hon. From now on out, you’re in charge of art.”

“That’s sweet.” She kissed him. “I’m just so glad to be rid of that demonic thing. I’m already starting to feel much lighter, like I’ve just been set free from some kind of cage.”

Chad’s Manhattan apartment bristled with life as several guys carried on conversations simultaneously. Albeit, every discussion was on the same topic: grotesque paintings. One bragging about having the most, while another was boasting about having the most despicable. Others contented themselves with having at least one that was accepted into the Club.

“So, I hear you acquired a new painting.” Griffen said. “When do we get to see it?”

“I’m saving it for last,” Chad answered. “I really believe everyone is going to love it. I’ve never seen any painting so life-like and eerie. No, not eerie, absolutely terrifying.”

“Can’t wait,” Griffen replied.

“Well, you’re going to have to,” Chad said and then headed to the kitchen to bring out more snacks.

The apartment was spacious enough by New York standards, but the apartment’s most obvious aspect was the paintings covering every available inch of wall. Paintings of mythic battles where half naked gods fought, paintings of historic battles ranging from ancient times to World War II, each one displaying varying degrees of blood, gore, and death, and fantasy paintings of strange monsters, ripping, tearing, and otherwise mutilating innocent people. It is a collection that can only be described as grotesque.

The party turned into a meeting, and everyone began to settle down. Conversations dwindled as the members grew restless to begin the revealing. A time when each member brought out their newest painting to be voted on. Only the grossest and truly offensive would pass.

“Alright, everyone, time to start. Let’s go to the living room and began the reveal.” Chad said. 

Between the couch, recliner, love seat, and metal folding chairs, everyone found a seat.

Chad got everyone’s attention. “This month we have six paintings seeking to enter the Club of the Grotesque. You know the rules. Only an unanimous vote is accepted. So, Kyle, could you pass out the ballets.”

Chad introduced the first nominee: a painting of several dark trees with decapitated heads hanging from their limbs; blood dripping from each. It passed. The next, showed a knight with his sword thrust into a writhing dragon. It did not pass. No blood. The next three paintings also failed to impress, as the members were tougher than usual, probably due to Chad’s hyped up find.

Griffen took over the MC spot. “Okay, now for the painting that brought this record attendance. Chad will you do the honors?”

He pulled a piece of art from his leather case and showed it to everyone. It brought audible sighs and awes. “It has no name, so I named it The Demonic Overseer.” The demon appeared so life-like and the suffering people in the flames looked like they were really suffering. No one could say why this was true, just that it was. After a long appraisal the time came to vote, which was just a formality. Everyone knew that this reveal turned into a coronation for the new king of the Club of the Grotesque, and everyone was happy to be a part. There was no dissension. The Demonic Overseer was truly ruler of all.

The reveal turned back into a party and too many drinks were drunk in honor of the new king. The food ran out and alcohol disappeared, singling the end. As the members left they made sure to look at the new king one more time. Some commenting on the life-likeness, and others on the creepiness. “You know I love what we collect, you know, the gross and despicable, but I’m glad this one isn’t coming with me. It creeps me out.” One, mostly drunk member told Chad before stepping out.

After everyone left, Chad stood alone, in the midst of an after-party mess. He grabbed his prized piece and hung it on the most noticeable part of the living room wall. “My royal painting positioned on its throne surrounded by its subjects. How fitting,” Chad thought out loud. Then he got to work cleaning the mess.

Finishing after midnight, Chad went to the master bathroom and began to brush his teeth. Something caught his eye in the mirror. He turned, saw nothing, then returned to brushing. “I really need to get an eye appointment. These stupid floaters are getting worse.” He thought to himself.

In bed, he picked up a book from the nightstand and read for a while. When he finished, he marked the page and closed the book, placing it back on the nightstand. Then switched off the lamp. It the darkness, a small amount of light shone through the crack between his curtains. If Chad had his eyes open, he would have noticed that the light was broken for a moment by something passing in front of the curtains.

A couple of hours into the night, Chad’s iPhone lit for a moment due to a spam email, showing that it was 2:33 AM. Chad suddenly sat up in bed shaking. He scanned the dark room and tried to calm down. “What in the world?” He said aloud. His eyes kept darting from the window, to the closed bedroom door, to the open master bathroom door. “Did I leave the bathroom door open?” He tried to think. “Of coarse I did.” He laid back down, but couldn’t close his eyes. “I remember closing it, but that can’t be. I must be thinking of a different night.” All of a sudden, a strong pull to go to the living room overcame him, but he didn’t know why. He tried to ignore it, but it grew in intensity. Finally, he got up and walked to his door, opening it, he stepped out into the small hall leading to the living room. Slowly making his way down the hall, he began to feel a presence behind him. He was afraid to turn around. Afraid of what he would see. But he willed himself to turn around. Nothing. His heart started beating again. He looked back towards the living room and crept closer. “I don’t want to do this. I just want to go back to bed.” He thought, but couldn’t.

Now at the threshold of the dreaded room, he saw his paintings covering the walls. Normally, familiar friends and valued treasures, but at this moment, they were an unwelcome sight. They seemed to be staring at him, taunting him with evil and silent laughs. Laughs that came from a joke he was not privy to. A joke, not funny, but foreboding.

Glancing over the walls, a chill went through him. At first, he didn’t know why. It was a sub-conscience reaction. But now he knew what caught his eye. The demon was gone. He wasn’t in the new painting? He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Disparately trying to focus. He peered at the canvas again. “You’re going crazy. He’s right there. Standing on the ledge.” Chad tried to laugh. Just then the flames started to glow. He blinked hard and when he opened his eyes again, the flames looked normal. Like painted flames. “I’ve got to stop this. I had too much to drink.” He walked back down the hall to his bed, and tried to go back to sleep. Forcing his eyes shut, he tried to think of nothing. Staring at the back of his eyelids, he suddenly heard foot steps coming from the hall. No! Not foot steps! Hoof steps!

He sat up and watched the bedroom door. “Who are you? I’m calling 911 right now.” The door opened so slowly that Chad couldn’t tell if it was being opened by a breeze caused by the AC or someone pushing it. After a breathless moment, he saw that no one was there, so it had to be the AC. “I guess I didn’t shut it all the way.” He thought.

He laid back down and closed his eyes, but right before the last millimeter of eye was covered by his eyelids, he saw him. He finished closing his eyes completely and refused to open them. He knew who he saw. The demon. He heard hoof steps clopping closer. He heard the demon breathing, then he heard movement, and felt hot breathe on his face.

“I must open my eyes! I must open my eyes!” Chad kept saying over and over to himself. “This is a nightmare,” he reasoned. “I’ll open my eyes and wake up.” He fortified himself to open his eyes. They refused. “You will open your eyes!” Chad yelled. He forced them open and saw the demon smiling.

Four months later, the building maintenance man stood in Chad’s living room with two men from the Club, going through his belongings. Pictures leaned against the walls in bunches, no longer hanging, as the three of them went around carefully placing each piece of artwork into soft leather cases.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mac, for letting us get these paintings before they hauled everything away.” Griffen said to the maintenance man.

“Hey, it’s no problem. I knew the big boys would just throw these crazy pictures away.” Mac hesitated. “I mean, works of art.”

Griffen and Steve laughed. They were used to it. Very few outside the Club understood their strange taste.

“How could he just leave?” Steve asked.

“You know Chad. Eccentric as they come. Remember the time he went to Yemen for two months on a whim? We all thought he was dead.” Griffen replied.

“I know, but even for Chad, this is way overboard. He never failed to pay rent before.”

“True. It’s baffling.”

“Hey guys?” Mac said. “What about this one? Who gets it?” He held The Demonic Overseer up.

Griffen and Steve looked at each other. Steve shook his head. “Not at my place. My wife would kill me.”

“Hand it to me. I’ll store it until our next meeting and then we can vote on who should have it until Chad gets back from who knows where.” Griffen said. Mac handed it over and Griffen paused while looking at it. “Steve? Do you remember how many there was in the flaming lake? Wasn’t it just three?” Griffen asked.

“I believe so. Why?”

“Because there are four and the last one looks a lot like Chad.”

“What!” Steve walked over to get a closer look. “Man, he does, doesn’t he. That’s so spooky.”

“How do you think he did it?” Griffen asked.

“Knowing Chad, he had some artist add it just to see how long it would take us to notice.”

“That does sound like Chad. I tell you, when he gets back we should play some kind of trick on him to pay back.”

“I’m in.”

“But you know. This really looks like Chad. He must of gotten a really good artist. I can almost feel Chad when I look at it. Almost like he’s really in the painting.” Griffen said.

“I feel it too. I’m glad you’re taking it and not me. This one is just too much.” Steve went back to work stuffing paintings into cases.

“It is scary,” Griffen agreed as he stared at the demon and then at the Chad-like addition. “Where are you, Chad? I wish you just kept this one. In some weird way, I feel like the demon is trying to pull me into his nightmarish painting.”

“Now you’re just sounding crazy,” Steve said. “Let’s get these out before the big boys get here. I can hardly believe it. He’s losing everything, and you know selling his stuff won’t pay all the back rent. They’re still going to go after him. I tell you. Chad really got himself into a pickle this time.”