"Invitation Only" by Ray Garton
Cemetery Dance's A Halloween Short Story ebook series
Readers unfamiliar with "Invitation Only" by Ray Garton may prefer to read these notes only after reading the story.
Ray Garton is not my cup of tea.
Mere prurience seems to be his motivation: stories repeatedly explore a lumpen social milieu where small-time criminals dish-out and receive supposedly just desserts.
"Invitation Only" is an excellent example.
Local scarfaces Kurt and Greg have been invited to a Halloween night orgy in a cemetery. By the sixth paragraph, Garton is already alerting the reader to his vigilante plot scheme with this meta fan service:
As he waited for Kurt, Greg sat at the bar in the dining room trying to read a battered old copy of The Vault of Horror. Comic books were a weakness of his and since he’d started making so much money, he had spent a lot of it on a large and expensive collection; one of the best parts of it was the entire EC Comics horror line in pristine condition. He was too distracted to read, though, and got up and left the dining room, leaving the comic book still open on the bar.
No one in EC didn't deserve a comeuppance.
After interminable verbal kibitzing, Kurt and Greg arrive at the cemetery. Greg senses danger, but defers to Kurt.
“How do you know Mom would still be alive? She might’ve died soon enough on her own.”
“She wasn’t that old. Oh, no, uh-uh, I know lotsa people like your mother. Believe me, people like that live a long time. You know why? ‘Cause makin’ everybody else miserable makes them happy, and that happiness keeps ‘em alive for fuckin’ ever. ‘Sides, what the hell’s any a this got to do with an orgy in the graveyard?”
“Because it just doesn’t feel right. And we’re due.”
“What the fuck’re you talkin’ about, we’re due?”
“I mean things have been going too well for too long, and we’re due.”
Kurt roared with laughter. “Jesus Christ! You sound just like your crazy fuckin’ mother! If I hadn’t bashed that bitch’s head in when I did, you’d probably be her by now.”
Greg’s frown did not relax and he fidgeted in the seat.
“For fuck’s sake, man, cheer up!” Kurt shouted as he pulled to the side of the road across from the cemetery. He killed the engine, took the keys from the ignition, then turned to Greg, slapped his thigh hard and shook his leg. “Think about it, dude. It’s Halloween and everybody’s out there partyin’ their asses off, and that means they need party supplies. And our company representatives—” He barked a laugh, as he did almost every time he referred to their dealers as “company representatives,” like they were travel agents, or something. “—are out there gatherin’ up lotsa fuckin’ money to put right in our pockets. Then we can introduce our new money to our old money and everybody wins! Our customers get what they want, our company representatives get paid, our money makes new friends and we get richer. Now quit soundin’ so much like your fuckin’ batshit mother and let’s go get laid in the graveyard!”
"Invitation Only" begs one question.
How did zombie overdose victims create and email a cemetery orgy invitation?
Jay
