eerieindiana | Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Numeracy

“See?” Marshall Teller demanded, his tone at once triumphant and accusatory. His associates, both trusted and not, looked. The blank looks on their faces told him that they did not, in fact, see.

“Come on, guys,” said Marshall. “The house number? I know you know this. Look again!”

“Is that supposed to be your encouraging voice?” said Dash. “Because if it is, I think I just solved the mystery of why Tod McNulty took a swing at you last time you tried to ‘help’ him with his math homework.”

“That’s not why,” said Marshall defensively.

“No, I think it is,” said Dash. “In fact, I myself am feeling a distinct urge to punch you right now if you don’t stop being smug and tell us the answer.”

“That’s... pretty much exactly what Tod said,” said Simon. “Right before he tried to brain him with a trigonometry textbook.”

“I’m calling it now,” said Dash. “Tod is not currently being possessed by a dark spirit who lives inside one of his frankly alarming number of Pitbull Surfers patches; he just doesn’t like being patronised over quadratic equations. Case closed.”

“Case not closed,” said Marshall hotly. “Evil embroidery ghosts are a thing and I am a great math tutor.” He shook his head. “Anyway, that’s not why we’re here.” He pointed at the wood-panelled door across the street. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

“I’m leaving,” said Dash.

Marshall threw up his hands.

“Fine!” he said. “Why is the number plaque black numbers on a blood-red background when every other house on the street has gold lettering on a black background? Why is the font all drippy? Obviously vampires have moved in up the road from my parents and plan on draining the townspeople of their precious blood through a series of night-time visits.”

He let the ensuing silence hang, expectant and full of dread.

“Um,” said Simon. “That’s... oddly specific, Mars.”

Marshall made a dismissive gesture.

“Okay, maybe it’s not for-sure a vampire. But clearly it’s some kind of people-eating creature of the night.”

“Or it’s just some goth renter with a very laid-back landlord,” said Dash.

Marshall scowled.

“It’s number thirteen,” he said. “The unluckiest number! It’s got a creepy monster font on the sign, it’s not keeping to the neighbourhood colour scheme, and most importantly, it’s right between house numbers five and seven, and house six seems to have vanished.”

“Oh,” said Simon. Dash just snorted, but there was a definite undertone of chagrin in the sound.

“Yeah,” said Marshall. “So next time, nobody question my math skills, okay?”

Microwave-verse

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