First off, I go by Bow-gee, not Boo-gee. Boo-gee sounds too much like boogers and dance moves, which, although I dig them both, isn’t what I’m all about.
What’s my deal then?
Scaring folks, mostly.
Sometimes I do some side jobs with property damage; you know when things fall apart for no real reason, you can thank me. I like pipes – bursting them’s fun, flooding basements and overflowing toilets are a real laugh. Maybe some electrical problems here and there, but I like the messy stuff, mostly.
It’s fun, keeps me on my toes. Pisses people off to no end. And there’s something hilarious about somebody slogging through raw sewage trying to save their precious television set. Gotta love that.
What’s the deal with you folks and TV anyhow?
OK, some of it’s not bad – Game of Thrones is kinda cool, but I know you can do better than that.
And here’s where I come in, just to help things along; because who doesn’t love a good scare?
Oh, I’m subtle, that’s for sure. Sneaky. A little nudge here, a push there, and you’re so damned scared you nearly wet the bed.
It’s absolutely delightful. Truly a sight to behold; not that you’re seeing any of it sitting in the dark with your eyes closed, whispering some fool nonsense to yourself, or, maybe you’ve managed to get the lights on and are busy staring into the shadows, hoping and praying that none of them moved.
But you won’t check under the bed. You’re kinda afraid of it, with good reason, I guess, seeing as it’s my usual hiding place.
I got you all so well trained that you don’t even stick a toe out from under the covers ‘cause you think I’ll grab it on you.
Okay, now that I’ve stopped laughing at you, just think about it a minute.
So I grab your foot, what do you think I’ll do? Maybe tickle it a little? You like the feel of my nails on your skin? I sharpened them just for you, and left the dirt under them ‘cause I know you’d like it. And that fungal infection, blackened claws falling off in all kinds of rot – that’s my special treat.
But seriously, what am I gonna do with a foot?
Give it a kiss, a little nibble, maybe a lick?
And then what?
Rip the damned thing off, leaving you with a bleeding stump spurting blood all over your nice duvet? Or just chew it all up, crunching the bones on my molars with a sound that sends shivers down your spine — that tingly sound of bone grinding on bone – leaving you with a pulpy mess.
Just for that record, that one oozes too, sometime blood, if I haven’t mashed the arteries to bits, but you get a lotta lymph, that sticky yellow fluid and white chunks of fat mix together something real nice. You might think it looks a little like puke, but hey, I like it.
But you know what?
Most folks haven’t even thought that far ahead – they’re just afraid I’m gonna reach out an touch them. They’re afraid of the Boogey Man.
And that’s what I’m here for. To scare you. And maybe a little bit more –
That dark shadow hanging out under your basement stairs that never goes away and always seems to pull at you, so’s you race up, footsteps thundering and kinda laugh at yourself when you reach the top – you know I let you get away with it that time.
But when I reach out and wrap my hand around your ankle, and you feel the cold wetness and start to scream, well, then —
Or, just say we’re hanging out at night, when the house is real quiet and you see something twitch a little, maybe an old pile of laundry or a dark spot in the back of your closet; I shift things around and play tricks with your eyes so you don’t know if something’s really there or not, but you’re too scared to look and too frightened to look away, so you end up leaving the closet door half open because you can’t make up your mind – yeah, I’m all over that one.
But the best ones are when I reach right into your dreams, twisting things around and stirring the pot; letting the weirdness simmer a little, and then bring it to a boil so you wake screaming or gasping for air, like there’s a heavy weight pressing down on your chest.
You know it’s me sitting on top.
And no matter how hard you try, no television’s gonna beat that.
Liz McAdams is a writer who spends far too much time in dark basements just hanging with the Boogey Man. Her work appears in the usual places, including Spelk, Near to the Knuckle, Yellow Mama and will be up soon on Shotgun Honey. Check Liz out at https://lizmcadams.wordpress.com/