RELAX! by Molly Felt {Inklings Book Contest 2024 Finalist}

Today, we are featuring Inklings Book Contest 2024 finalist Molly Felt! She finished 6th grade this past school year and wrote an uproarious short story called, “RELAX!” Our judges felt that, “this writer had really taken the time to polish it- she really SHOWED the evil rather than just telling about the evil.”   

If you’re in the mood for a laugh, check below to view Molly’s story in digital book or plain text form.

 

Alma Onyx opened the waiting room door.  Behind a black Lucite desk, a receptionist filed her nails into sharp points.  She smacked her gum, never looking up.  A sign above her head read, Health Care for the Delightfully Wicked. Alma stood, waiting to be acknowledged.  A bell sat on the desk.  She slowly reached for it.  The receptionist moved it farther away.  Alma cleared her throat.  The receptionist scoffed.

“Name?” she asked in an irritated tone.

“Alma Onyx.”    

The receptionist began typing.  Her nails clacked on the keys.  Several seconds passed.

Eight letters, thought Alma.  My name is eight letters long.  So. Much. Typing.

“You can go in,” said the receptionist, still typing.  “Room 13.”  Alma walked toward a black door, the sound of clacking nails and bored irritation receding into the distance.  The door read Room 13, Dr. Schlecht. 

“Mrs. Onyx, welcome.”  A man in a black lab coat with a goatee welcomed her.  He wore a stethoscope.

“It’s not ‘Mrs.’ anymore.” Alma said.

“Oh dear,” the doctor said, “You finally did it—you killed him!”

Alma sighed. 

“No,” she said, her face falling.  “He left me.”  The doctor tried not to look surprised.

“Well, that makes sense.”

“How do you mean?” she asked.

“Uh, I just mean, y’know, you’re just not very, um… oh, never mind.”

“I’m not very what?” Alma asked.

“It’s just…well, you’re just not very, y’know—evil,” he said.

“Why does everyone say that?” Alma protested.  “I steal dogs!”

“Yeah, but you break in, steal a dog, take it for a walk, and return it.  At best, that’s breaking and entering.  Not very evil.” he shrugged. “Let’s have a look.  How are you feeling?”  

“I don’t know,” said Alma.  “I feel tired all the time, like I don’t have any energy or motivation.  I’ve been feeling frustrated and depressed.  I feel like my career has stalled, my personal life has fallen apart, and sometimes I lie awake at night listening to my heart pound in my ears and I just start to wonder how I got here.  I don’t know if it’s the divorce or stress or what…”

“Well, let’s see what’s going on.”

After poking, prodding, scanning, and examining, the doctor scribbled on Alma’s chart. 

“Hm, that’s odd.”

“What?” Alma asked.

“Well, a lot.”

“Like what?”

“This can’t be right.  It appears that your liver is on the wrong side, your spleen is comprised of some sort of gelatinous substance—that’s definitely not normal.  Your eye color is…,” he flipped over a page in her chart “… none—how’s that even possible?  Your mouth is purple and your blood pressure is 370 over 2.  Your reflexes aren’t flexing and your lungs sound like a construction site.”

“WHAT?” shrieked Alma.  “What does this mean, doc?”

“Well, as far as I can tell, you have about seven minutes to live.”

Alma keeled over on the table.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?  AM I DYING?”  Every muscle in her body tensed up.  The doctor laughed.

“Nah, just kidding.”  Alma glared at him, took a deep breath, and tried to relax.  “Although, those things are actually wrong with you, so it’s possible.  You appear to be under a lot of stress and need to get your health under control.  That blood pressure alone is bananas.  Like bonkers off-the-chart bananas.  The last patient I had whose blood pressure was that high spontaneously combusted at a Chicken Hut.  It 

would be in your best interest to find some ways to unwind and destress—maybe an evil yoga or meditation class?  Also, I really think part of your problem might be your level of evilness.”

“What do you mean?” Alma asked.

“Well, you’re not really committing, are you?  You’re a half-baked evildoer.  Kinda evil, but not totally evil.  That unwillingness to really grab the devil by the horns, so to speak, might be contributing to your frustration and depression, which affects your motivation, which affects your health.  Don’t underestimate the mind-body connection.  If your head isn’t on straight, your body isn’t going to function.  And I mean that literally and figuratively.”

“Hmm,” said Alma.

“Let’s deal with the immediate issue first—take a vacation, destress, and get your head clear.  Then, we can address the rest.”

“Vacation?” she asked.  “That sounds interesting.” 

“Not to stress you out unnecessarily,” said Dr. Schlecht, but if you don’t relax right now, you’re going to have a fatal health catastrophe.  Could be a stroke, or heart attack, or instantaneous cancer. I don’t want to scare you, so, no pressure.” He chuckled.  Alma turned white.

“Okay,” she said.  “I guess I better hop on Expedia and get something booked.”

“Excellent!” said the doctor.  “Let’s make an appointment next month to check and see how you’re doing.  I’d like to fit you with a heart monitor so we can see what’s going on in there.”  The doctor attached a device to her chest that beeped every time her heart rate rose.  It began furiously beeping.  The sound of the beeping stressed Alma out and her heart rate shot up.  

“Okay, Alma,” said Dr. Schlecht.  “Try to relax—it’s only a matter of life and death.  Relax, relax, RELAX!”  He chuckled again.  The device beeped faster now.  “Wow!” he said, “that’s not good.  I’ve never heard one beep so fast.  It’s kinda catchy, like a solid baseline from a dance song.”  He moved around a bit, like he was dancing.  Alma raged at him.

“YOU’RE JUST… EVIL!”

“Why, thank you.”

Alma sat between strangers on the plane.  To her left, a man who seemed to have constant post-nasal drip because he kept swallowing and clearing his throat.  To her right, a teenage boy in a tank top who forgot to put on deodorant and repeatedly reached up to reposition the air re-circulator above him.  The plane sat on the tarmac for almost ninety minutes.  The air conditioning was off and Alma’s overhead light didn’t work.  She forgot to bring a book, anyway.  Alma’s heart monitor beeped.  The captain made an announcement.

“Folks, this is the captain.  Sorry about the delay.  Maintenance crews assure us that the missing bolt was replaced.  We’ll push back from the gate in a few minutes.  Those of you asking about the duct tape on the wing—not to worry—standard procedure on an aircraft of this age.  Traffic control says we’re 29th in line for takeoff.  Our flight time is seven hours, forty-nine minutes, once we reach cruising altitude.  Unfortunately, our in-flight wifi is down, so the entertainment system is offline.  We’re also out of the following beverages:  Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, Ginger Ale, orange juice, tomato juice, and coffee.  Sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight to Oahu.”

Alma grabbed the information card from the seat pocket and looked it over.  An impossibly happy woman with a flower in her hair walked along a sandy beach with sparkling turquoise water.  Alma tried to picture herself on that beach, enjoying herself, with no cares in the world.  She got irritated and couldn’t do it.  Behind her, a toddler screamed and kicked her seat.

This is a bad idea, she thought.  A marginally evil villain relaxing on a beach in Hawaii?  Whoever heard of such a thing?  I should have gone to Devil’s Canyon instead.  Her heart monitor beeped.

 

Alma was thirsty, her neck hurt from sleeping awkwardly, and she needed to use the bathroom.  As she exited the plane, she tripped in the aisle, dropped her bag, and the contents spilled out.  People behind her in line groaned.

“C’mon lady.”

“Great.”

“Klutz.”  Alma gathered her things and limped to the front of the plane.  She was blinded by the midday sun and tripped again, this time over the step between the plane and the staircase rolled out onto the tarmac to greet it.  She tumbled down the stairs, her bag flying behind her, everything inside it, once again, spilling out everywhere.  She landed on the tarmac with a thud.  Her heart monitor went crazy.  This was no way to start a vacation.

A hand reached out to her.  

“Aloha, friend!” A smiling man in a colorful Hawaiian shirt helped her up and gathered her lost items.  Alma recoiled at the sight of such a happy person.  She was not happy and the thought that someone else was bothered her.  He grabbed a fragrant flower lei and placed it over Alma’s head.

At the resort, Alma was overwhelmed by the lush vegetation, beautiful flowers, fragrant scents, and the soothing sound of ukulele music.  She was greeted by another smiling man in another colorful Hawaiian shirt.  He gave her another lei and directed her to the front desk.  Alma was uncomfortable in her dark clothing.  Everyone was dressed in colorful, loose, flowing clothes.  She wondered if she’d be able to relax at all.  After checking in and meandering past the pool, koi pond, and lawn next to the beach, she found her room.

I don’t like this.  They’re trying awfully hard to make me feel relaxed.  It’s making me anxious.  

She opened the door and saw the largest bed she’d ever seen.  The patio doors were open, giving her a view of the ocean.  The waves broke against the shore.  A huge basket of tropical fruit sat on the table in the corner.  The jetted bathtub was enormous, and the towels were soft and fluffy.  The room smelled of gardenia.

This room is amazing! I hate it!  How am I supposed to relax in such a relaxing environment?  Alma grabbed a mango, peeled it, and took a bite.  Delicious.  This is terrible.  I should have booked an un-air-conditioned shack with no running water or electricity. Alma collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.     

Alma awoke not entirely irritated. She went down to the beach.  She spread her towel on a lounge chair and sat down.  Children splashed in the surf.  Her heart monitor beeped.  As their laughter grew, the beeping sped up.  She shot them dirty looks, but they didn’t notice.  She closed her eyes and felt something blot out the sun.  She opened her eyes and saw the happiest/scariest woman she’d ever seen.  

“Aaahhhhhh!” she screamed, defensively.  The woman smiled more broadly.  Her teeth were so white.  Her hair was so perfect.  Her expression was so…vacant.

“Hi!  I’m Tiffani,” she said.  “With an ‘i’ and and a little heart over the ‘i!’”  Alma winced.  “I’m your personal concierge and I’m here to make sure that your stay is stress-free.”  Alma’s heart monitor freaked out.  

A man with a tray of tropical drinks with little flowers and umbrellas walked up and leaned over Alma’s shoulder.

“Mai tai?” he asked.

Surprised and reeling from “Tiffani with an ‘i’ and a little heart over the ‘i’”, Alma swung around and knocked the drinks over.  A glass shot across the beach and hit one of the laughing children who began to cry.  The laughter stopped and the beeping slowed.

Tiffani with an ‘i’ and a little heart over the ‘i’ opened the spa door.  She chattered on about this, that, and the other.  Alma wanted it to stop.

“After your massage at Knead to Relax and acupuncture at Stabby Joe’s, you’re scheduled for a surfing lesson, and then tomorrow, a sunset luau!  Hula lessons at 8, lei making at 9, coconut frond 

weaving at 10:30, Hawaiian language class at noon, and then you have the entire afternoon free for an outrigger canoe lesson!”

Alma’s heart monitor beeped.

This is my own private hell. A perpetually chipper compulsive talker forcing me to relax?!  

“Oh, and there’s a baby sea turtle release!  It’s, like, totes adorbs!”

Baby turtles?  That could be fun.  Most of them die without reaching adulthood!  And they’re so cute—what could be more relaxing than survival of the fittest in action?  

Alma lay down on the massage table.  The room was filled with tropical plants.  New Age music played in the background.  The scent of incense filled the darkened room.  The sounds of trickling water and gently singing birds filled Alma’s ears.  The massage therapist spoke in a hushed voice.  

“We’ll start with the mid-morning, anti-stress, deep tissue, hibiscus-infused, river rock healing ritual.”

What?

“Close your eyes and listen to the healing sounds of the Pu’u Kukui rainforest as I introduce the lilikoi-honey butter body mask to your kua and balance your pono.  Feel your connection to Mana and allow the healing to begin.”

Just listening to the massage lingo made Alma tense up.  The therapist laid a hot rock on Alma’s back.  She winced.  The rock burned a trail of stress back and forth as the birdsong grew louder.  Alma was irritated again.  Nothing about this was relaxing.  It was weird and oily and awkward.

An hour later, greasy from the butters and the oils and the awkwardness, Alma was face up on another massage table in another part of the spa.  A smiling man in another Hawaiian shirt stood over her.  

“Alma, let’s take a look at your tongue.  Say, ‘ah.’”  This was even weirder than the kua and pono.  Alma stuck her tongue out.  The man’s eyes widened.  “Oh, dear,” he said.  Alma’s heart monitor started beeping.  “You have several issues that I can see right away.”

“Issues?” asked Alma. 

“This discoloration near the front of your tongue indicates stagnant Qi.”

“What?”

“You have a lot of stress, unhappiness, and anger.  You also have tongue heat, which suggests irritability and a bad temper.  Your tongue is purple, a red flag for blood deficiency and poor circulation.”

Alma grew ill-tempered listening to him tell her she was ill-tempered.

“We need to take a multi-prong approach to balancing your nervous system, so your body can begin to heal itself.”

“But I don’t—”

“Try to relax, close your eyes, listen to the healing sounds of the Pu’u Kukui rainforest, and we’ll get started.”  He inserted a needle into Alma’s face.

“Ow!” she screamed, her monitor beeping.

“Just relax,” he said.  “The more you tense up, the worse it hurts.”  He added two more needles.  Alma was developing a primary revulsion reaction to the word “relax” and suddenly had the urge to grab the needles and jam them right into his—

“Focus on your breath.  Breathe in through the nose, and out through the mouth.”  Alma took a deep breath.  Within a few minutes, she was covered, head to toe, with needles.  “I’m going to retreat to the healing grotto.  I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”

Alma was supposed to feel relaxed, but she didn’t.  She felt like a porcupine.  

I don’t think this is working.  I’m more stressed out than ever.  Uncomfortable, Alma began pulling out all the needles.

“I gotta get outta here,” she mumbled.  After she removed the needles, she threw on the spa robe and stepped off the table.  A searing pain coursed through her feet.  She had forgotten to remove the needles from the soles of her feet.

“Aaaahhhhhh!” she screamed.  The man came running in.

“What are you doing?” he asked.  “You can’t remove the needles!”  Alma limped backed to a chair in the corner and put one foot up her knee to pull out the remaining needles.  He moved toward her.

“What do you people want from me?” she screamed.  “Why are you holding me hostage?”

“Hostage?” he asked.  He laughed.  “You’re here to rela—”

“If you say ‘relax’ ONE MORE TIME, I swear—”

The door swung open and in bounced Tiffani with an ‘i’ and a little heart over the ‘i’, clipboard in hand.

“Hiya!” she said, “Are we all nice and relax—“

“NO!  NO!  NO!  NO!  NO!”  Alma ran out, her heart monitor beeping out of control.

 

Alma sat on the beach, more stressed than before she’d arrived.  Why did she go to a resort filled with happy people and fun activities?  Evil villains don’t like any of that.  Villains like chaos, explosions, and missing puppies.  They don’t want massages and inner peace, they want to see the whole world burn down—

I’ve been approaching this all wrong.  I don’t need to relax, I need to scheme and plot.  I need to wreak havoc!

Alma went to her room and planned.  It needed to be big and memorable.  

Forced volcanic eruption? Nah, too expensive.  Taint all the buffet food?  Too…gross.  Move wildlife from one island to another?  Too much work.  What can I do?  Alma looked at the luau being set up on the lawn.  The luau!  Plenty of people, lots of attention, spotlights!  Perfect!  She went to work.  She called the front desk.

“Aloha, Ola Poino Resort. Tiffani with an ‘i’ and a little heart over the ‘i’ speaking.  How may I help you?”

“This is Alma Onyx.  Is there a bird sanctuary anywhere on the island?”

“Oh, Alma!  Yes, we have a wildlife conservation center on the south side of the island—Manu Frigate R Makou.”

“Do you know if they rent out animals?”

“I dunno.  I’ll see if I can dig up their number.  Is there anything else I can help with?”

“Do you have a very tall ladder, a saw, and two thousand feet of rope that I can borrow?”

“I dunno,” said Tiffani with an ‘i’ and a little heart over the ‘i’, “let me check.”

“Thank you.  One last thing—can you tell me where the water main for the resort is?”

“I think it’s over by the main sewer line.  I’ll have to check on that.”

“Thank you so much, Tiffani with an ‘i’ and a little heart over the ‘i’, you’ve been a huge help.”

 

The wildlife sanctuary didn’t allow bird or other animal rentals, but Alma’s history with dog “borrowing” was just the thing necessary to skirt that minor challenge.  She headed off to pick up some avian accomplices for the evening’s festivities.  Alma underestimated how many seabirds and mongooses fit into an Uber.  That was a messy drive.  

While she was gone, the maintenance department delivered a hand saw, a gigantic ball of rope, and a remarkably tall ladder to her room.  There was also a map of the grounds with the location of the water main/sewer line highlighted.  Alma forgot to ask Tiffani with an ‘i’ and a little heart over the ‘i’ one last question.

“Aloha, Ola Poino Resort. Tiffani with an ‘i’ and a little heart over the ‘i’ speaking.  How may I help you?”

“This is Alma Onyx.  I have one last question for you.”

“Of course!”

“Can you tell me about the baby sea turtles?  Where exactly are the baby sea turtles kept?  Are they here at the resort, or…”

“We have a breeding program.  We care for the hatchlings over in the Honu wing, behind the koi pond.”

“Perfect!  Thank you!” 

Alma had to work fast.  She had to hide the birds and make sure the mongooses didn’t eat them.  She had stashed them in the maintenance shed when she arrived back from the wildlife sanctuary, but she knew that wasn’t going to work for long.  A section of the resort was under construction, so she decided to move the animals there.  

She went to the Honu wing to see about the sea turtles.  Tours were finished for the day, so she entered the breeding room and grabbed one of the plastic tubs of turtles.  She took them back to her room and put them in the bathtub.  

Alma waited for the dead of night and lowered the ladder over the balcony and climbed down with the saw.  She dragged the ladder over to the palm trees on the lawn.  She set it up, climbed up with the saw, and loosened as many coconuts as she could.  

Alma went to the main sewer line and slashed a few holes in the drainage pipes leading to the beach.  She went back to her room and began cutting the rope.   Everything was in place.  Alma only had to set the plan in motion.  

The warm breeze lilted through the fronds of the trees.  The luau was about to start.  Alma watched from her balcony.  Throughout the night, her heart monitor hadn’t beeped once.  She felt calm, relaxed, and almost happy.  She watched as luau guests wandered around the buffet.  The lights lowered and a thundering drum beat blared across the lawn.  Performers spilled onto the stage and began dancing.  Alma left her room with the rope and the bucket of turtles and headed for the beach.  The luau was in full swing.  No one noticed that she had snuck down to the beach and was releasing turtles at the edge of the lawn.  She headed with the rope to the construction site.  She opened the door and a few birds escaped along with an enraged mongoose.  She pushed back against the wings, beaks, and teeth, closing the door 

 

behind her.  She tied ropes around bird feet, then turned to the angry mongooses and fashioned leashes.  It wasn’t pretty, and she was bitten a few times, may have contracted a few diseases, and would definitely have scars, but she managed to walk the pack of leashed mongooses and bouquet of seabirds down to the dark beach.  The beach was starting to smell of sewage, just as she’d planned.  The baby sea turtles struggled to find their way to the water.  One made it a fair distance, so she grabbed it and returned it to the lawn.  

As the luau music came to a dramatic crescendo, Alma released the ropes.  The mongooses ran toward the luau, scrambling under tables, legs, and dancers.  The birds made grating calls as they dove for the turtles.  The animals spread across the lawn and beach, and people screamed in panic.  The mongooses became aggressive and began to claw.  The noise level rose, and the panicked guests stampeded. The coconuts in the trees shook loose.  They fell from the sky onto the stage, tables, buffet, and lawn.  Birds fought for turtles, making low, guttural noises.  Bodies scattered, dodging mongooses, falling turtles and coconuts, and seabirds, heading for the safety of the beach.  They filtered off the lawn and onto the beach where the stench of raw sewage was overwhelming.  Alma pretended to be a luau guest and watched the mayhem unfold, feeling positively evil for the first time in years. In her mind, it was glorious, almost like a war movie battle scene playing in slow motion.  She reached down, ripped the heart monitor off, and threw it into the ocean.