Batteries

Rain pounded against my window. I blinked my eyes open. What time was it? I sat up and yawned, glancing at my watch. It was 2:15 am. My back cracked. Ouch. I grimaced- that was what I got for falling asleep while doing math homework.

I looked down at my paper. Drool was smeared across the graph paper. Oops. I shook my head and frowned. Searching, I rubbed my eyes. Where was my calculator? I moved my book and papers. It was nowhere to be found. I scratched my head. That's odd. Last time I used it, I was at my desk.

Suddenly, I remembered! It was in the laundry room! I was getting new batteries. While I was working a trigonometric function, my calculator died. I yawned again; the harsh light from my desk lamp hurt my eyes. I stretched and went to retrieve my calculator. I walked in the laundry room and found my pride and joy sitting on the washing machine. Its front cover was open and the back tab was off. I hadn't put the new batteries in yet. I grabbed a handful of triple A batteries and picked up the calculator. I went back to my room and sat down at my desk again.

Slowly, one by one, I placed four batteries in the calculator. I smiled. There now, we could get on with math homework. A sudden jolt of lighting hit the sky, lighting up my messy room. With a pop, my desk lamp lost power, leaving my room completely dark. Now I couldn't do my math homework. I groaned and placed my calculator on my desk, maneuvering around the obstacles on my floor in order to find a flashlight. A loud crash made me spin around- my book, papers, and calculator had slid off my desk. Crap! Without a flashlight, I returned to my desk and picked up my things. As I reached for my calculator, I realized that all the batteries had fallen out- I hadn't put the back tab back on. Dammit! I reached for the batteries and felt a gooey substance encasing the batteries. What the-? I reached in my back pocket and pulled out my cell phone, using the back-lit screen to light up the batteries.

Lime green slime heavily coated the triple A's. I flipped my calculator over and studied the back. The slime covered it too. I lifted it to my nose and sniffed. It smelled...rotten. I turned the calculator back over and lightly thumbed the screen. Everything seemed fine and intact. Must have gotten food on it.

Suddenly, small black letters appeared on the screen.

HELLO MICKY.

Whoa...Not right...What was-?

YES. I KNOW YOUR NAME.

I shook my head. It was two o'clock in the morning. Clearly, I was dreaming.

ARE YOU READY, MICKY?

I glanced out the window, checking for a prankster. Ready? My freakin' calculator was talking to me! How could one be ready for that?

IF I WAS A PERSON, I'D BE SMILING NOW.
YOU ARE READY THEN?

I looked over my shoulder, still searching. This was...weird.

A ticklish sensation crept into my hand. I looked down and saw the icky greenish slime oozing out of the buttons. What the-?

IT'S A DEADLY SERUM WITH SOME NECROTIZING FASCIITIS IN IT.
YOU'LL BE DEAD WITHIN A MATTER OF MINUTES...AND THEN- YOU'LL BE MINE
TO EAT!

I quirked an eyebrow. I was definitely dreaming. Last time I checked, calculators don't eat people.

EAT!

I pursed my lips. I found my talking calculator to be slightly disturbing.

"Aah!" I exclaimed. A burning, peeling sensation was replacing the ticklish one. The damn piece of machinery wasn't lying! Slowly, I could feel the disease crawl up my arm.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ME NOW?

How did you answer a question like that?...And what was wrong with what I previously thought of my calculator? What did I think of you?

WHO DO YOU LEAVE BEHIND ON A REGULAR BASIS? WHO GETS THROWN IN THE
BACKPACK WITHOUT A SINGLE THOUGHT? YOUR PILLOW SEES YOU MORE THAN I
DO.

I groped past the burning into my mind. A talking calculator wasn't much, but a calculator that developed a loathing for its owner and eats her for it was a little...well...frightening.

A sharp spike ran through my shoulders and spine. The disease was spreading and fast. I had to get out. Lightheaded, I felt sweat begin to soak my clothes. I spun around wildly, desperately looking for a way to dispose of my calculator.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MICKY?

Just looking...I'm just looking...

YOU CAN'T GET RID OF ME.

I frowned. How did the insane calculator know? The burning continued up my arm.

STILL BELIEVE I'M JUST A HUNK OF MACHINERY?

I felt numb...I couldn't feel...Where were my knees?

OH MICKY YOU'RE SO FINE YOU'RE SO FINE...OH MICKY WHAT A PITY YOU
DON'T UNDERSTAND.

Deliriously, I focused on the symbols my calculator typed at me. Was my calculator singing?...Another shot of the lime green slime oozed out of the battery compartment. My hand muscles started contracting. Excruciating pain followed closely. I stared, horrified, at my hand. It was turning into the greenish slime. My calculator seemed to slurp up the slime and typed:
TOO BAD YOU DON'T HAVE THE SAME CAPACITY AS THE TRIPLE A'S. MY NEXT
OWNER WON'T BE AS PLEASED WITH MY PERFORMANCE.

My eyes lost focus, and I slumped to the carpeted floor. My calculator fell from my dwindling grasp.

OH MICKY YOU'RE SO FINE.