Containing part three of "The Pit and the Pool Table" by Edgar Allan Dixon.
(Part 3 of The Pit and the Pool Table by Edgar Allan Dixon.) ...“Yes, reach back into the icebox to get it. Yes, further ... further...” Belladrama said. “Do you want a lite or a regular brewski...yikes! Yow! Hey, Belladrama, did you know there’s a tarantula living in your mini-fridge?” I said, yanking my hand back. My beloved snapped her bony fingers, then quickly mixed a drink behind the bar. She offered me a glass tumbler of some bubbling beverage with clouds of mist flowing across the mini-bar. “Diet cola, dear?” she asked. “Don’t mind if I d... hey! Wanna play a board game?” “Your diet cola, darling?” I sorted through the board games on the coffee table, and found the board game Clue. “Hey, I don’t have one of these!” I said, holding it up. “Billiards, darling! Shall we play billiards?” Belladrama said, running at me with a pool cue before her. I dodged out of the way and snatched it out of her hand as she passed by. “Careful there, darling, you could hurt someone. Say, beloved, all these numbers on the billiard balls remind me. Did you know if you place the numbers from one to 15 in a certain divine order specified in the Kabbala and verified on page 666 of the Necronomicon, it creates a holy spell to drive away evil? And that if I bank the number five ball between the number 3 ball there and the number 11 ball here, it will create that mystic number?” “Oh, it’s not necessary to do th...” Belladrama said “No, it’s easy. Watch — I’ve been playing billiards for years,” I said, lining up the shot and pulling back my right arm to strike the number five ball. “No, don’t hit the...!” I struck. Ball five shot across the green felt, banked off the rim, and struck balls three and 11 simultaneously, driving them apart. There was an explosioin of light and a puff of smoke as if from an antique photographer’s flash power, and the game room went black. It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the hellish light from the fireplace. “Whoa! Fine time for a power outage,” murmured. “You okay, Belladrama?” I reached up to the pool table to pull myself up, and something fell on me. It was a dried skelton, held together by tatters, dressed in rags moldy from years underground, its dessicated mouth in a rictus scream of horror. “Way cool! A scarecrow! Hey, Belladrama, your dad gave me a scarecrow! See? Belladrama?” But Belladrama was nowhere to be found. So I shrugged and took the scarecrow home to scare the neighborhood children with on Halloween. “Gosh, it’s a shame things didn’t work out with Belladrama. I think I really could have made something of her,” I hummed, wiring the scarecrow to the maple tree in the front yard.