The Thing that Goes FUMP in the Night
By Evan McBride
1: FUMP.
2: What?
1: I said FUMP.
2: Why?
1: Because that’s just what I say.
2: Well, why do you have to say it outside my bedroom door at this ghastly
hour?
1: I’m the thing that goes FUMP in the night, that’s why!
2: Don’t you mean bump?
1: No, that one’s already taken.
2: Taken?
1: Well, obviously everybody can’t just go around saying BUMP in the middle
of the night.
2: Why not?
1: It just wouldn’t be polite.
2: In my opinion, it’s not very polite to make any loud sound at all outside
someone’s bedroom door in the middle of the night.
1: But I have to. It’s my job, you see.
2: Why would you want a dreadful job such as that, tromping around after
dark?
1: Because it’s what I’m good at, that’s why. Not just anybody can say FUMP,
you know.
2: Sure they can. Fump fump fump.
1: You’re not saying it right.
2: I thought I was doing a jolly good job of it.
1: No, try it like this. FUMP.
2: Fump!
1: No good. You have to do it just right or it’s no go.
2: Sound like a most dreadfully difficult job.
1: Yes, very. And it would help me tremendously if you were a bit
frightened.
2: Of what? You?
1: Well, yes.
2: All right then. Oh my. I am most terrified indeed.
1: That’s not very convincing at all.
2: Well, it’s your own fault that I’m not really frightened.
1: I suppose it is. Perhaps you should try opening the door?
2: Why?
1: Well, it’s something people do sometimes, when they hear a FUMP. Creep
over to the door, throw it wide open, expecting nothing to really be there,
and then FUMP! Most frightening, really.
2: What’s so frightening about you?
1: Try and guess. It may help the atmosphere.
2: All right. Do you have glowing red eyes that cast a ghastly light on a
twisted face prominently featuring a rather large maw with several rows of
sharklike teeth and a barbed tongue? Huge, hairy misshapen arms ending in a
grizzled clutch of wickedly curved and razor sharp talons that will reach up
in a demonic embrace to pull me between those deadly jaws that right now are
likely as not dripping corrosive green saliva on my new rug?
1: Only one way to find out.
2: And spiny... what?
1: Only one way to find out if that’s what you’ll see when you open the
door.
2: One way? You mean ask you? I’ve already done that, I believe.
1: No, you’ll have to open the door to find out. Isn’t the suspense causing
your heart to flutter in your chest?
2: Not particularly. And I rather don’t fancy the thought of getting out of
bed right now. I did just go to the bathroom.
1: But if you don’t open the door, you’ll never know what would’ve happened
if you had.
2: I suppose I could live with that. Besides can’t you just tell me?
1: But that would take all the bone chilling terror out of it.
2: Just as well. I’m cold enough.
1: This isn’t working.
2: No, not really.
1: FUMP.
2: I believe you already said that.
1: I’m starting over. I must have done something wrong.
2: Oh please don’t. I really do need my sleep.
1: I can’t leave until I’ve frightened you out of your silly little skull.
2: Oh my. I’m afraid this is going to be a very long night indeed.
1: Did you just say you’re afraid?
2: Oh, I might’ve. I mean yes. Yes, I most certainly did. Traumatized even.
1: So traumatized you may never be able to sleep properly again?
2: I may not be able to.
1: Well, good, then. That’s all I needed to know. Goodbye.
2: You’ve just left? Hello? Oh. He’s gone. Good riddance. Now I can finally
get some sleep. Aaaaah. Mmph. I wonder what I would’ve seen if I had opened
the door. No matter. ( pause) Perhaps I should go out and check, only to
see if he’s gone and left some corrosive saliva or something, of course.
Hello? Are you still out here? Well, I guess that just...
1: FUMP.
The End.
