HOUSE OF HVELL 2

Night 7

Tuesday, 31st October 2023

BEETLE BOB'S TRUMPETS

I am so bored.

It really is telling that even at a party, with a surprisingly large attendance, I have to resort to writing in this little red book to keep myself entertained... Maybe entertained isn't the right word actually, more like... content. I've been really stressed. Since last night, I hadn't been able to sleep. Physically, I feel tired, exhausted, stiff? Mentally, I feel worse. I'm scared. I have to suck it up though, after tonight, I'll leave in the morning, and then I'll get my paycheck. Then it will be worth it. Never again though. I should've known a job that sounds too good to be true, will indeed be too good to be true.

Right now, I'm sat at the bar. While my coworkers seem to be enjoying themselves, Pinhead and I are... getting along? Its hard to tell, this guy REALLY isn't talkative. I don't blame him though, in a way, I feel like I can relate. As different as we are, we're both outcasts here.
"You have a diary?" He asks me.
"This? This is that journal they gave me. Didn't you also have to write in one?"
"No, I had my own diary. My therapist advised me to keep one." Pinhead replied.
"What, do you have dementia- Ah..."
Pinhead furrowed his sorry-excuse-for-brows, but he didn't look angry – instead, it looked like he was trying to remember something.
"You don't look too much older than me though-" I was rambling.
"No, no... They said it was an accident but..." Pinhead interrupted me, but I didn't take it personally.
"You don't remember?"
"Some things are slowly coming back to me."

"You want a drink?" Pinhead asks.
"Nah, don't really feel like giving money to this hotel."
"It's on me" he replies.
Obviously, I can't just pass up free alcohol.
"Nevermind then!" I figured if anything is going to calm me down now, it would be getting shit-faced. So long as the next coming drinks are also free.

I guess he didn't really want to give it up for free though. As he began mixing, Pinhead glanced to the side a few times. Don't really know what he was focusing on. He looked like he was thinking hard, the few hairs he had for eyebrows furrowed again. At first, I thought he must've forgotten how to make the drink, but I guess that wasn't it. He handed me some kind of vodka-mix, and turned around as he took something small and crinkly behind the counter and walked off. Weird guy.

Naturally, I've finished my drink, its been like what? Five minutes? It wasn't that strong nor was it particularly good. Doubt this guy has any previous bartender experience. Pinhead is still gone, and not wanting to buy another disappointing drink, I've instead decided to make one myself...

The time is almost 11pm. I think that's what the clock said before I rushed to the bathroom anyway. I guess I dosed off for a bit before all those mystery bottles kicked in. The urge to puke led me to the toilets, and when I got out, I met that fucking boss of mine again. I was hoping I could avoid him just for tonight, I might be just a little tipsy now, but God, he still freaks me out.
Beetle Bob must've seen me run across the hotel because when I met him, he brought me a glass of water. Well, water and lemon? I almost chocked on those seeds as I chugged the glass, he should've taken those out before giving it to a drunk person. I didn't even see them before I could feel them slide down my throat, and not very smoothly. He must've enjoyed my pain, he just smiled as he handed me the glass.
"Don't drink it too quickly, you might throw up again!"
"Go fuck yourself." ...Is what I wanted to say, but I still need that paycheck, I didn't endure all this mind-fuckery shit just to come home empty-handed.

I feel so weak.

I'm not sure whether to go back to the lounge, or to just stay here hunched by the bathroom door. I still feel like I could throw up any second, that or pass out.
Right.
I'll just stay here until it passes, or maybe for the whole night? It's not like they need me there or anything anyway. At least from here I won't have to see Beetle Bob or any of his freaks...

Some time had passed, though the kid had successfully managed to fall asleep on the cold, wooden floor, he eventually rose to his feet. Then, he collapsed again.
"Fuck, what time is it?"
The kid stood up and stumbled back towards the lounge. Without paying attention to his surroundings, he sat back down at the bar, the empty glass of the drink that Pinhead made him still there.
"Hey, can I have some water?" He mumbled, his head resting in his hand.
No response.
"Hey-" He looked up, only to see no one at the bar.
"He's still gone?"
The kid turned around, the formerly busy lounge was now empty. For a moment, he felt a little startled. Then, he remembered something Beetle Bob had said.
"Oh. I get it. This is like what they did to Pinhead last year."
He stood up.
"Very funny, but I'm not that stupid. You can come out now." He glanced at the clock again, it was nearing midnight.
"...Well it can't be that everyone's gone home already..."

Kid stood up. He began walking aimlessly around the lounge, then entering the second lounge. As his heart started to beat faster, his slow strutting soon turned into a speed walk towards the main hallway.
"It's not funny anymore..."
He re-enters the main lounge in a panic, his calm breathing turned to short breaths as he searched for a glimpse of anyone. In his luck, he saw something in the corner of his eye, standing in the hallway.
"Beetle Bob? Is that you-"

Just then, the image of his boss soon distorted into a black shadow, the spikes in his hair turning to the horns of a goat.
"What-" The kid shrieked in a startled voice, but it was too late to rationalise what was happening.
The figure quickly launches at him, starting with grasping and tugging at the Kid's arms, to swings and strikes anywhere on his body that would land. Kid winced as he struggled to break himself free of the attack, eventually collapsing to the floor and trying to crawl away. The creature continued to throw blows, opening it's oversized mouth, it bit Kid's leg as to prevent any chance of his victim escaping. As blood oozed from the boy's body, his sight soon got blurry and he fell unconscious.

...

In the back of his mind, the Kid hears muffled voices, although hard to make out, he recognises one of them anyway. The cooks, it's Fred's voice.
"Time of death?"
Kid forces one of his eyes open, he is in a strange and unfamiliar room. A hospital room, with caution tape on the door and a clock above it. The time? Not a second past 11:40.
He looks down at himself.
Although he cannot move his stiff body, it appears different to how he last saw it. The bruises on his arms, and the bite mark on his leg, they're both gone. His vision begins to fade in and out, as he shifts his attention to the figure next to him. A ringing fills his ears, drowning out the muted voices in the background. It's a familiar face, and it turns to him with a smile. It's Beetle Bob.

His body fails him, and his vision once again turns to black.