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“Mr. and Mrs. Bigshot’s Tale”

Written by Dustin Schuyler Lewit


“Telephone for Mr. Bigshot.” said his receptionist.

Mr. Bigshot answered the phone and the receiver just made out faint breathing noises from the caller line.

“Hello?” Mr. Bigshot asked.

No answer.

“Must be a wrong number.” he said.

He gave the telephone back to the receptionist lady.

The following events may frighten you. Only the bravest among you read on, please.


Mr. Bigshot exited his vehicle at night in front of his mansion.

“Hi Honey.” his wife greeted.

You could say the Bigshots were old fashioned.

“Hi, Mrs. Bigshot!! Had a busy day?” he asked her.

“Swell. The children are all dead from fall out debris and I am next on Death’s agenda.” Mrs. Bigshot replied.

“Anyway, enough about my silly day. How was work?”


“Good. Let’s go answer a few phone calls you should have picked up.” his wife said. “Right this way.”

“Thanks doll.” Herman said.


All of the phone messages were of that same exact faint breathing Mr. Bigshot got at work.

“Strangely familiar.” he said, then went to dinner, had a cold one and a newspaper.

The date read August 6th, 10,000.

After dinner, Mr. Bigshot called the number back that produced the eerie and heavy breathing.

“What do you want? I haven’t got all day!!” he screamed.

“Meet me at the nearest cemetery and I’ll reveal myself to you.” the voice croaked.


Mr. Bigshot smoked a joint while waiting outside the cemetery gate.

“Come right in.” the voice, appearing without a face to go with it, whispered.

Mr. Bigshot entered the cemetery as the gate opened by itself.

“Walk straight until I say stop.” The voice from out of nowhere continued.

He continued walking when, of course from out of nowhere again, the voice bellowed “STOP!!”

Mr. Bigshot was standing in front of an unmarked grave.

“Now what?” he asked the wind.

“Dig me up, cocksucker!!” the voice pleaded. “I’m dying to get some fresh air!!”

“Fuck this, man. I’m outta here!!” Mr. Bigshot said, trying to leave.

The grave began unearthing itself and a hand, dismembered of course, grabbed Mr. Bigshot into the hole. He awoke on top of the source for this voice he kept hearing.

All but its skull was skeletal.


Mrs. Bigshot grew weary when her husband didn’t return for about half a year.

She went to the cemetery. Just in case an evil spirit could give her the answer. No, she was deathly afraid of Death. A bloody nose caused her to faint. Let alone what Mr. Bigshot must’ve been met with in that grave. She’d go into cardiac arrest.

Mrs. Bigshot kept walking through the cemetery, though.

With a flashlight to see out for any evil spirits.

As she was walking, an open grave stopped her.

“Oh, don’t faint. Whatever you do, young lady, don’t faint in a place like this. Dying in a place like this is perfect tho…” Mrs. Bigshot said, then fainted after seeing the most dreadful sight from within the open grave.

Her husband was all skeletal now except for his skull. Next to him was a telephone.

The other corpse, the original corpse in this grave, was missing.

Presumably armed and dangerous.


When Mrs. Bigshot awoke in the cemetery, the grave was filled to the brim with new soil.

“It was empty before I…” she started.

“Fainted?” a familiar voice said from behind her.

She turned around and saw her husband, just normal and fine.

“Mr. Bigshot, you’re okay!!” she shouted happily.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Let’s go home, dear.” her husband said.

“He never calls me dear.” said Mrs. Bigshot to herself, full of suspicions.


They went home and Mr. Bigshot slept in the bed with Mrs. Bigshot.

“Babe, you never are in my bed. You’re always in your study room.” she pointed out.

“Well, I’m horny tonight.” he pointed out.

“Get the fuck out of my bed, you son-of-a-bitch imposter!!” Mrs. Bigshot cried.

“What on Earth are you talking about, dear?” Mr. Bigshot asked.

“That’s just it. You never have EVER called me dear. Why start now? What are you hidi…hmmm?” Mrs. Bigshot said right as this man who called himself her husband gassed her to sleep.

Is this Mr. Bigshot an imposter? Find out next paragraph.

This time around, Mrs. Bigshot came to in a fancy chair tied up with ropes.

“Why did you drug me?!?” she asked her assailant.

“Wakey, wakey. Good of you to join the living.” a voice without a face croaked from the empty room.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” Mrs. Bigshot asked.

“I want to rip apart your spin and use it to build a body for myself half as nice as yours.” the voice spat sarcastically.

“You are a terribly sarcastic man and need serious psychological evaluations.” she told the voice.

“What insurance do they take?” asked the curious and disturbingly eerie voice.

“Premium.” Mrs. Bigshot said.

“Fuck!!” the voice screamed.

“Why? What insurance do you have?” she asked, concerned about hearing such expletives and how it affects her equilibrium.

“‘After the Grave Rots, the Corpse Lives On’ Company.” replied the voice.

“Oh, sorry to hear that.” Mrs. Bigshot sympathized.

“Yeah, it’s alright. Hey!! Quit distracting me!! Where were we? Oh, yeah. The part where I reveal myself.” the voice said.

Mrs. Bigshot saw the voice turn into a human being, a very grotesque looking human being with empty eye sockets and a torn apart torso. It wore a nice outfit of burial cloth, though. The sight made her take her eyes out by falling, with herself still tied to the chair, forward into a spike strip that just happened to be lying around.

With Mrs. Bigshot out of the way, this creature, proclaiming himself as the Destruction Man, could now be revealed as the source of this strange voice. Right before the once very much alive Destruction Man died, he made sure that a device for communication was to be placed in the coffin with him.

The End

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