#Buster Slice

"Numbers and statistics tend to blind us," The presidential candidate preached through the television, standing in the sacred bastion of democracy—that was, the CNN Center studio in downtown Atlanta. "When all hell break loose and the caliginous sky rained [BLEEP] upon us, no amount of data analysis would save us. When disasters comes knocking, no amount of probability or heat maps or [BLEEP] poll results would—"

Their words were cut short, replaced by the buzz of a soccer stadium.

"The hell does caliginous even mean?" Crunching sounds, teeth grinding upon popcorns. Greasy hand wiped the crumbs around the owner's mouth, to little degree of success. "I swear these politicians just opened a thesaurus and wrote whatever in their speeches."

The popcorn-muncher finally reached for the tissue box, crumpling the two-ply paper before repeating the attempt to separate the crumbs from the face.

"They got all them fancy eloquence, yet couldn't even be bothered to pick another words for shit and fuck on live television. Says a lot about the priorities of these motherfuckers. Don't you agree, Cirno?"

A blue fumo doll on the sofa nodded; although it's not like anyone had seen it do anything else.

"I know you'd agree with me. We—"

Darkness interrupted. All lights, even the "aromatherapy" candle in the corner were snuffed in an instant. Only the faint thermal glow of the room's sole inhabitant's pale skin remained. Sliver of moonlight breached through the hairline cracks between the wooden window and its frame, but it was far from enough to see anything, already faint from filtering through the thin gray clouds.

"Aw shucks. A blackout. The one soccer match I care about, and—"

Another interruption, now in the form of a loud bang on the front door.

"Ugh what is it this time?"

"Hello? Is anyone home?"

"Ever heard of knocking?! Why do you gotta smash my door bruh?!"

"Oh thank gods. Please, I need your help. We—"

"And I need to find my way. Case you haven't noticed, the light's out." After a few seconds of stumbling, a bright light filled the house, emanating from the owner's smartphone. The light slowly made its way to the front door. "Aight. State your name, occupation, marital status, social security, mother's maiden name..."

The person that had slammed the door open was drenched, presumably by the light rain outside, her long hair stuck into their dripping tees hardly suited for the season or the weather. The irritated host observed some kind of logo on her shirt, probably a band or the sort.

The pallid homeowner made a throat-clearing sound, reminding the intruder to state her purpose. "What do you want?"

"It's... It's my mom, and my dad, and, and... oh no, you too?!" A break in the cloud, streak of moonlight. The intruder's eyes widened.

"Girl if there's anything that your parents and I have in common, it'll be that we're incredulous at your rudeness. You came to my house in a dark and stormy night only to point at my face? The hell's wrong with you?"

"You can't catch me! I saw through you too! You'll pay for what you did to my parents!" Utterly terrified, the girl scurried away—soundlessly, as ectoplasmic trail occupied where her lower body should've been.

"I'm the one who got visited by a ghost and she's the one who ran away in fear. What's the world gone to?" Greasy hands scratched thin hair upon sickly discolored head. The overweight shut-in groaned.

Screams both ghostly and corporeal echoed in the distance; floating translucent and transparent ghosts not dissimilar from the fleeing girl flooded the paved streets, only to be erased by the fluorescent light as the power returned.

"In the time of great need, in the worst of moments. In the right situation, we're all capable of the most terrible crimes. The expansion into the haunted wasteland of—"

"Aw man the match was over already?! Stupid blackouts!"