Uncle Ivan had grown quite nervous, not just for his family but also for himself. That pesky little slip of paper sitting in his pocket had much more relevance than he’d initially thought. He knew there was a dark reasoning, some kind of sinister ulterior motive behind Sebastian having selected him to be the best man now.
He’d joked about it with his younger brother before Sebastian had his mood shift that led to his sibling’s slaughter. He didn’t know when, but he knew that, at some point, he would be called upon to give his speech. It was like knowing that doomsday was lurking just around the corner.
Only serving to further accelerate his fears was that amid the short intermission, his deranged nephew hadn’t blinked. He’d been sitting at the edge of the stage and just staring him down; sockets gaping with frenzy and uncertainty.
What in God’s name is he thinking? Cannot be good things. But what can I do? He remains in control at all times… he thought dejectedly, staring at the bomb and then back at the machine gun while still racking his brain to find a way out.
Sebastian finally stood up and walked away from the stage. He approached DJ Buttaz and retrieved the hand-held mic once again. He clipped it into the black microphone stand on the blood-drenched dancefloor and dragged it over to the table. He placed it where what was left of his fractured family remained seated and winked at his Uncle Ivan.
Sebastian then returned back to where he’d been standing and looked at the still sizable crowd. He snatched a glass and butter knife off of one of the nearby tables and returned to the mic.
Trepidation slammed around Uncle Ivan’s belly as an uncanny instinctual sensation overcame him. His mouth dried up and his ticker raced faster than it ever had before. It was coming, he could feel it…
Sebastian smacked the edge of the knife against the glass gently. The normally exciting chiming noise was almost deafening in such a silent fear-stricken environment.
“It’s time for a toast,” Sebastian said, cracking a mischievous grin. He turned his head back toward his family. “Uncle Ivan, please,” he said, pointing at the microphone.
Both Olga and Nina looked at him with eyes that begged him to stay seated, but realistically, they both fully understood that it couldn’t happen. They wanted to cry, holler, and pull him down. They wanted to force him to stay, but they knew that would probably just get everyone killed.
Uncle Ivan approached the microphone stand. It was at the far end of their table, a few yards away from Uncle Ivan’s wife and daughter, and right smack beside his still bewildered and traumatized sister-in-law.
Hana hadn’t uttered a single word since the killing started. She looked like a mental patient who had been tortured and lobotomized then left to rot in an asylum for the rest of time. Witnessing her son’s dark metamorphosis had broken her. She simply wasn’t there anymore…
Jinx set a nearly full champagne bottle and a napkin down on the table beside Sebastian. Then the jester brought a long fancy candle and placed it beside the bottle. As Jinx lit the wick, the glowing flame added a hint of elegance to the table that was otherwise covered obnoxiously in bodily splatter.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the best man to say a few words!” It seemed Sebastian had found his enthusiasm again.
Uncle Ivan’s hands shook as he removed the wrinkly folded piece of paper from his interior suit pocket. When he unfolded it, his wrinkly hands shook uncontrollably like he had Parkinson’s disease. What does one say at the wedding of a recently christened prolific mass murderer?
“But before you get started, I think I wanna tell a little story if that’s alright… Is that alright with everyone?” Sebastian asked.
The crowd grumbled their many approvals half-heartedly, knowing damn well they had little other choice in the matter.
“I’m incredibly grateful to each and every one of you for being here. Maybe I haven’t truly made that clear but the sacrifice that you’re all making is truly appreciated and something special.” Emotion began to overcome him.
“You know… I didn’t know if this day would ever actually happen. I didn’t know if it would come. For years, I’d been ready but I wasn’t going to go through with it unless every tiny detail was just right. There were a lot of dark and empty nights, depression, some tough times on a bumpy road to find my opportunity.”
Sebastian looked back at Taylor, “But then I met my wife…” he was choking up, tears ran down his cheeks. “Love you, honey,” he smiled madly, sending a fluttering wave in her direction. “Sure, I’d found someone that was perfect, someone that just really truly deserved it…”
Taylor subtly crinkled her brow at him as if what he was saying was total fabrication.
“Even then though, I still wasn’t sure… until this place reopened that is. That was a sign from the universe. That was something telling me this was all supposed to go down this way. Many of you outside of my immediate family might not know, but this hotel holds a very special place in my heart.”
Sebastian pointed his arm out at the lovely arching windows and the mountains that were now dimly lit and on the verge of nightfall.
“We used to go skiing here when I was just a kid. Back when it was still open anyway. I always loved this place because I got to be around so many people. Even as a young man, I wanted to do something special like this for a long time.”
He wiped the teardrop treads away from his face and tried to compose himself.
“I’m glad I waited, though, because nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could be better than today. But decades ago, I almost screwed all this up. I got greedy and tried to rush it.”
He looked out the window, playing the memory over in his head. While disgust crinkled his face, there was still a fondness that fluttered in his heart regarding the vision.
“The last time we stayed here, I snuck out of my room in the middle of the night. I eventually made my way to the kitchen, but it wasn’t because I was looking for a midnight snack, I assure you…”
Sebastian finished what remained in his glass and set it down on the table.
“After a day of snooping around away from the slopes, I’d discovered that the hotel had a bit of a rat problem. This was evident when I located a variety of different poisons they’d been using in an effort to kill off the vermin population. The supply closet I stumbled upon would have been an exterminator’s wet dream. It excited me too. However, it had never been small pests that I’d been interested in exterminating.”
He giggled childishly recalling the silly times of his adolescence. “You see, even at such a tender age that gave my tiny brain a devilish idea, and so I set off to find the waffle batter. I’d had the continental breakfast what felt like a million times before. The sausages were always awesome, and the spread they set up allowed people to hand-make their own waffles in that fancy cooker. You remember, right, Mom? We always loved it!”
Hana remained stoic and without movement.
“Anyway, I’d seen at least a hundred or so people get fed every time I was there. I watched that little line of death stand happily while salivating. Getting ready for that hot and crispy golden-brown waffle to hit their mouth. At least I thought it was a line of death at the time…”
Sebastian looked a little embarrassed sharing his confession with everyone, knowing that his initial attempt at mass murder was mostly a failure.
“That was my chance, and I took it. But it wasn’t well-thought-out. Only several elderly folks who attended the breakfast actually died. Nope, that shitty rat poison wasn’t quite strong enough to get the job done against the young and healthy. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why they closed this place… They couldn’t survive the onslaught of grief and lawsuits that hit afterwards, so they just shut the fucking doors instead.”
Sebastian looked away from the crowd and over toward his mother. Hana’s jaw was chattering like she wanted to say something, but nothing ever seemed to come out.
“I guess it’s a good thing no one had a hankering for waffles that morning, huh, Mom?” Sebastian said with a detached laugh.
“YOU MONSTER!” Hana finally bellowed out, triggered by the memories of years past. “You’re not my son, you’re a demon!” she screamed.
Sebastian picked up the napkin from the table beside him and stuffed it into the champagne bottle.
“I hate you! I hate you, demon!” she continued.
Uncle Ivan, unsure of exactly what to do, turned to her and tried to calm her.
“If I’m a fuckin’ demon, and you’re the one who created me…” he said, sticking the napkin into the lit candle. It caught fire, suddenly revealing that it wasn’t actually a celebratory champagne inside the bottle, it was gasoline. “Then shouldn’t you burn in hell too?!” he screamed, launching the smoking Molotov cocktail at his mother.
The jade glass shattered over Hana’s face and engulfed both her and indirectly Uncle Ivan in hot flames and accelerant. They fell backwards while Olga and Nina simultaneously shrieked in horror.
Hana fell over and tried to think straight but it was difficult with her entire exterior on fire. Once she was able to deter her focus from the scorching pain and get her brain working, she got an idea. It was the only thing that made sense to her. If she was going to die, Sebastian needed to go with her.
She charged him with the hope that she could simply wrap her arms around her son and let them both burn to ashes. With her arms outstretched and her feet driving her forward, it was all she had left to achieve. But the cluster of bullets that left the banana clip tore through her flaming flesh before she ever had a chance to reach Sebastian.
As Jinx squeezed down on the trigger, blood and orange pushed out of her skin. She fell into the messy pool of people on the dancefloor as the little life that remained drained out.
Jinx had the fire extinguisher from the wrestling match on standby and ran over toward Sebastian’s flaming mother.
“Don’t! Let them burn, the fire alarms are deactivated already. Just put out the fire on the chair and table,” Sebastian instructed.
As Uncle Ivan fell to the floor screaming, he tried the stop, drop, and roll method. Unfortunately, it did zero to stop his flesh from continuing to bubble and blister. His family watched on in repulsion as the man of the house was roasted like a pig.
Sebastian grinned and looked out at the stunned crowd. “I guess now we’ll never know what he was going to say…” he chuckled, looking down at his Uncle Ivan who was still being eaten away by the flames but no longer moving.
