Green Guy
By Nathaniel Mumau
Darcy was the Junior World Pogo Stick Champion, and we were going to beat her to a bloody pulp because of it. But then the Green Guy pounded on her door.
“Watch her,” I commanded. Durk grunted, keeping Darcy backed into a corner. The Green Guy knocked again. His sickly complexion distorted through the window. I opened the door as far as the chain lock allowed.
“Hello?”
The Green Guy bared his rotting teeth. “Young ladies should not have nose piercings. Or such dark make up.”
I looked him over. A fez threatened to topple off his head. His frayed trench coat ended above his naked, green feet. “Thanks for the fashion advice. Who are you?”
“I’m the Green Guy. Like one of Santa’s elves.”
“It’s July.”
He giggled. “Christmas came early. Let me in?”
“Yeahhhh, I don’t think so—”
He jammed an arm through the doorway. I leapt back, his jagged fingernails tearing at my sweater. “This is fun,” he muttered. “I like to play tag.” His arm stretched down to the floor, like a python with a human hand for a head. As his forearm slithered toward us, his fingers stretched, too. They shot out in zig zag patterns, their nails cutting gashes in the floorboards.
Durk sobbed in fear, but Darcy was already tying back her hair. “My stick is in my room.” She grinned. “I can grab my practice one, too.”
I smirked in reply.
A minute later, Darcy and I were pogo sticking those fingers like no tomorrow. The Green Guy howled, but we just kept hopping. We hopped, hopped, hopped until he pulled back his hand and ran.
It almost reminded me of the Pogo Stick Finals, except Darcy and I weren’t competitors anymore. We were teammates. And together, we’d won.
Nathaniel Mumau is an aspiring writer based in southwest Michigan. His stories have been published or are forthcoming in The Bare Bones Book of Speculative Fiction, Cloaked Press’s 2026 Jump Into SciFi Anthology, and Unidentified Funny Objects 10. You can read more of Nathaniel’s published pieces at nathanielmumau.neocities.org