“You’re not coming in,” Jack said. He shoved into my hands the burlap sack in which he had transported my swords. “You cut open those organ sacs, throw the gallbladders in the bag, and stand guard if any of those things start coming out the windows. If they do, remember your lessons.”

“Hold on!” Tub cried. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Jack pointed at the satanic stars.

“Wash those stupid symbols off the wall. Use that hose.” He scanned our faces. “Everybody ready?”

“No!” Tub and I cried in unison.

“Let’s go!” Jack shouted.

ARRRGH!!! smacked her frothy lips and tore across the lawn. Jack ran at a full sprint at her side, the moonlight splashing across the metal edges of his armor. Blinky, too, raced along on his unknowable legs, though Tub and I were able to keep up with him.

“It was with unflagging dedication that I taught myself to move by touch and smell,” Blinky narrated for our listening pleasure. “Tonight that is a mixed blessing.”

Seconds later I knew what he meant. The organ sacs were rancid. Tub and I stopped short, gagging and coughing. Blinky continued without us, joining Jack at the back door he’d just jimmied open with Doctor X. Jack hurried inside the house, followed by Blinky. ARRRGH!!! was too large to fit inside, but mere physics didn’t stop her. She popped both arms from their sockets and twisted her oversize simian body in startling ways, then, somehow, disappeared inside.

Tub and I stared at the back door as it shut. The house was dark and quiet. We peered up at the second-floor window, conjuring horrible fantasies of what might be happening just out of sight. At last there was nothing else to look at. We dragged our eyes down to the ten rippling organ sacs.

“That’s all you,” Tub said. “I’m on graffiti duty.”

Tub held his nose and headed for the hose.

I forced myself to edge closer to the ten sacs. They throbbed upon the dark lawn like soft mutant embryos. I leaned over the nearest one. Purple lungs inflated against the translucent film; a slimy stomach surged against it like a red, blobby wave; pooled near the bottom was a white heap of squirming intestines. All of it floated within a snotty glop.

Slowly I withdrew Cat #6. I placed the tip of the cutlass against the sac and pushed gently.

It pierced the skin with a flatulent sound and liquid the color of mustard sprayed across my arm. It reeked of spoiled meat and my eyes began streaming tears. Briefly I considered just walking away, but then, before I knew what I was doing, I jammed the sword down so hard that it embedded in the dirt below.