(Present Day) September,2021 (fiction)

The next morning, Toby awoke to the obnoxious buzz of an alarm blaring for what seemed like an eternity. The air reeked of stale cat urine and dirty laundry. Sesame Street played on the television in the next room, with the volume so high it seemed as though Elmo was sitting right next to Toby, yelling.

Toby looked around the room, confused and scared. Where was his Game Boy bed, his computer and all the rest of his stuff? Instead, he saw a small wooden dresser with broken drawers, a big pile of dirty clothes, food wrappers, soda cans and a litter box that hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. The window shades were old blankets nailed over the window cavity, with one only halfway nailed up.

The bedroom door covered in stickers and marker burst open letting in a panicking little girl. The girl was filthy! She wore an oversized Def Leppard shirt, unwashed for at least a month, hanging past her knees. Even the bottoms of her feet were so dirty they were black. She had sandy, blonde hair that was cut almost identical to his dad’s old He-Man action figure.

“Oh boy,” Toby stated.

“Tommy, Tommy,” she exclaimed. “You gotta get up and make mama her coffee and breakfast!”

“What are you talking about?” he blubbered back to her. “I haven’t talked to my mom in 2 years. Where am I?”

“Very funny, Tommy!” she shouted, terrified. “We’ll both get the belt! Come on! Get up!”

“Stop calling me Tommy. That’s not my name! My name is Toby,” He yelled, getting more and more confused and scared as the scene unfolded.

“Call yourself whatever you want! Just please make her coffee and breakfast before she gets home from work,” begged the little girl whose panic increased the more Toby’s fear increased.

She grabbed at Toby to pull him out of bed, but he just pushed her away. What the heck was going on? Where was he? Why was the room so filthy? Why does this little girl keep calling him Tommy? The smell of cat piss was causing his stomach to turn.

The sound of a car pulling in the driveway and smashing into the garbage cans caught their attention. The little girl’s face went pale. She looked as though she was about to cry.

“Too late,” she cried. “She’s home! Thanks, Tommy.”

Toby looked out the window with the blanket that was falling down to see the mother figure that had this girl so terrified. Out of a rusty old white panel van stumbled a figure that looked straight out of the movies.

Her makeup was smeared down her cheeks like melted wax, making her resemble Pennywise the Clown in drag. Her clothes were horrendous, at best. She wore a pink miniskirt that left very little to the imagination showing her tattered, white, thong panties with red stains. Her upper body was cloaked in a camouflage sweatshirt that looked way too hot for the sweltering heat that he was just now noticing. Her legs bore black, fishnet stockings with holes in both knees. Her feet were clad with old, black combat boots that were obviously way too big.

Slamming the driver’s door shut caused the woman to drop her half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey whiskey. As she hollered about the dropped bottle, the lit cigarette fell out of her mouth and hit her in the chest burning her. She tripped and her knees hit the blacktop hard.

“Alright, He-Man, listen up,” Toby exclaimed in a motivated panic. “I’m not sure why you are so afraid of your mom, but I’m not about to stick around and find out.”

He jumped out of bed, pushed past the little girl knocking her over and whipped open the bedroom door. He scanned the room looking for the door out of this hell. He ran straight at the door just in time for a large fat Tabby to run in front of him, tripping him. Toby didn’t even hesitate before he was back up on his feet reaching for the handle of the door he had hoped would lead him outside to safety.

He turned the knob and pulled, but it didn’t open. The deadbolt was locked. His heart was pounding as he fumbled with the rusty, old lock a few times. Toby could hear the click of the dead bolt unlocking. He felt a moment of relief as the door began to open. That relief was promptly replaced with a sudden tightness in his chest as he saw “Pennywise” standing on the other side of the door swaying a little from too much alcohol. She had her keys in hand trying to find the right key.

Toby was immediately smacked in the face with the pungent stench of alcohol, an odor that used to cling to Christina on a regular basis until his father gave her an ultimatum. The alcohol mixed with stale cigarettes, old perfume and a slight hint of fish. Up close, the woman’s resemblance to Pennywise distorted into Pennywise meets Thriller.

“It’ss abou stime you learn to opa a door for a l-lady, Tommy, you littl pprick,” she said as best she could with her slurred speech. “Wheress ma fucckin ccoffee?”

Without hesitation, Toby’s response would have made his dad proud, “Yeah, whatever you say! But you damn sure ain’t no lady.”

Taking advantage of her momentary pause, Toby scurried past her, stumbled down the concrete steps and fell into the street. He jumped up and ran as fast and as far as he could until he felt as though he was far enough away. He dropped to his knees, crying like he’d never cried before. What was going on?! Where was he?! Where was his father and Christina?!

He rose back up and decided to keep running until he came to a store, gas station, police officer, anything. Blinded by the sun, he ran across the street, stumbled again and heard the screeching of tires. He turned just as a large diesel truck screeched to a halt inches from hitting him.