3, 2, 1…Happy New Year!
The streamers, balloons, and champagne were everywhere. The music was turned up to an ear splitting level and it felt like the very floor beneath us was shaking from all the dancing. I was on my only second beer, and my fifth aspirin of the evening. This bass filled club music, which I despise, always gives me a splitting headache. I lean against the far wall of my buddy’s condo, which is where the party is happening, and I try to dull my head pain with more alcohol. I’m feeling trapped, like I need to escape this madness for a moment. I need some fresh air, no matter how cold it is. The music is getting louder, if that’s at all possible, and I can’t hear myself think and the flashing rave-like lights my buddy set up are not helping either. I am about to make my escape when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn and come face to face with smeared lipstick and running mascara. She looks to be about my age, maybe a touch older, she has a half empty (or half full, for you optimists) champagne bottle in her hand. Her eyes are half closed, and now her arm is now around the back of my neck and she’s leaning in. I think I know her, I think I’ve met her once. I think she works at the art studio with my buddy. She is staring into my eyes and I can see her lips moving. But with all the music I have no idea what she is saying. I lean and shout into her ear,
“I CAN”T HEAR YOU, IT IS TOO LOUD!”
She responds with.
“WHAT?”
I think. Whatever she is saying she has deemed it important enough to resort to alternative forms of communication. She tucks her champagne bottle under her arm, so both her hands are free, and begins to draw letters in the air, and make, what looks like shadow puppets. I try and concentrate for a moment on what she is trying to tell me. As her fingers and hands fly around trying to make a picture.
Dog. Dog running. Dog running with a biscuit? Smoking. No, a hotdog. Hotdog and a biscuit? Running with a hotdog? Is that a hotdog? A cigar? What is that? Scissors. Do I have scissors? I shouldn’t run with scissors. Biscuit? Hamburger? Is that a biscuit? OK, a biscuit a hotdog a pair of scissors and running. I have no idea.
Giving up, I smile and nod and mouth the word “watermelon” over and over, so that it looks like I am telling her something. Whatever she thinks I am saying, she nods and gives me a thumbs up, and kisses me on the cheek as she stumbles off into the crowd. I try to wipe her lipstick off my cheek and make a mental note to never to play charades with her. I finish my beer, and head towards the fire escape. I grab a fresh beer as I pass the cooler and walk over and pry open the window. I step out and the night air is cool, but not unbearable. I close the window behind me and I take a seat on one of the small chairs on the fire escape and sigh. The bass and the lights from inside are still coming through the closed window, and I decided that I needed more seclusion. I climb the fire escape stairs one flight up to the roof. It’s considerably colder, but the music from the party was reduced to just a soft repeating “thud, thud, thud.” The rooftop was pretty bare, just random vents and exhaust ports, and there was no one up here but me. I walked over to the side of the building that faced downtown and sat down n the ledge, letting my legs dangle over. The condo’s building was 15 stories tall, so it was quite a drop. But the ledge I was seated on was wide enough that I didn’t feel any danger of falling. I opened my beer and took a small sip as I stared into the lights of the city. I dug into my jeans pocket and pulled out my pack of smokes. I lit the last one in the pack and inhaled deeply. Quitting is my New Year’s resolution, so I decide that this will be my last one, I’d better try and enjoy it.
“So, I’m not the only one who needed an escape?”
The voice startled me, not enough for me to loose my balance and fall to my death, but enough for me to drop my cigarette, my last wonderful, glorious cigarette. I watch it fall the 15 stories and crash with a small shower of sparks on the concrete below. Damn. I turned around, completely defeated, to see someone walking towards me. The roof was not well lit, so I couldn’t make who it was, but I think it was female, at least judging by the voice.
“Happy New Year got a light, Bub”
Her voice was light and easy as she did her best Bogart impression And when the street’s light fell on her face, I realized I recognized her. Her name was Amy Alexandria Abbott, a walking alliteration. I had met her once last year and all those A’s stuck with me. Amy Alexandria Abbott. But I remember she went by a nickname, something to do with her hometown. Boise? Boston? Brighton? Billings?
“Hey aren’t you Elliot’s friend? Yeah, you are, I know you. Do you remember me? I’m Amy, but everyone calls me Brooklyn. Light?”
Brooklyn! That’s it. I hold out my lighter for her, and she takes it and sits down next to me on the ledge and looks over. She whistles at the height and smiles. She lights her cigarette and hands the lighter back to me. She blows the bluish smoke into the cold night, and stares up at the stars still smiling.
“Another new year, another round of mistakes. Speaking of mistakes, can I get a sip of that?”
She points to my beer, and I hand it to her. Usually I can be a bit of germaphobe but for some reason she made me feel at ease. I watch her take a long drink, and she hands it back to me. I take a drink as well, and I can taste her lipstick on the bottle. We sit in silence for awhile, handing the bottle back and forth staring at the stars. At some point I bum a smoke from her and further confirm my resolution failure. Eventually we empty the bottle, which she drops off the top of the building and it shatters below. I offer to go get us some more, but she declines. And we sit watching the sky on New Year’s Day. And this year already seems better than last.
The doorbell woke me up. I laid there in my bed and stared at my alarm clock.
7:57 am
The doorbell rang again, this time followed by 3 sharp knocks. I rolled on my back and sighed and wondered if my roommate was going to answer it, I doubt it. With no haste I pulled back the covers and sat up, legs dangling over the side of the bed. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. The doorbell rang again, this time twice in a row, and the knocks seemed a little louder. I stood up and shuffled my way down the hall, not bothering to put my house shoes on all the way. I unlock the door and swing it open, still feeling a little grouchy.
“Can I help you?” I ask, with a little bit of edge in voice. I wanted to make sure that this intruder knows they are not catching me at the ideal moment of my morning.
“Have you heard the good news?” The man on my front porch asks me with a southern drawl. He is a tall thin man, maybe in his late thirties. He has a big crooked smile on his face and his eyes are opened wider than I thought was possible.
“Does the good news say anything about you providing breakfast tacos and coffee?” I ask sarcastically.
“No sir, but Jesus loves you and wants to save your soul!” As he said this he raised his bible above his head with eyes closed and face looking up.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask.
“Sure about what, sir?” He lowers his Bible, opens his eyes and looks at me, confused.
“Jesus, loving me and wanting to save me, are you sure about that?” I ask with a smirk.
“Of course I am, don’t you believe?” He asks.
“Did you ask him about loving me and saving me?” I am now leaning against my door jamb my hand behind my back.
“Did I ask Jesus? Well, no, but I know what he wants.” His arms are spread wide, one hand still holds the Bible the other I notice he has a cross on a golden chain.
“What church are you from, anyway?”
“His Holy Voice on Main and 1st street.” He replies, bringing his hands back down to his sides.
“Denomination?”
“We are a non-denominational Christian society, founded on the belief that those that worship can be saved.” This time the smile returned to his face, and he spread his arms again. I wasn’t sure if he was about to take flight, or if he thought he was feeling the Holy Spirit.
“So you are sheep without a shepherd?” These religious types always use sheep analogies to get their point across I thought it a good idea to turn the tables.
“No sir, we have a shepherd, he is Jesus, but the lands in which we graze have no fences.” He smiles when he says this looking right into my eyes.
“That’s pretty profound.” I’m a little dumbstruck, with his southern drawl and crooked smile and poor choice in the time of day to visit, I assumed him to be in the shallow end of the IQ pool.
“That’s our faith, sir.”
“Do they pay you to do this?” I try to switch to a new train of thought, I was nervous that I might just lose an ideological battle with this guy, and I was in no mood to lose on my own front porch.
“No sir, I volunteered.”
“Do you have regular job?”
“I do odd jobs around the church when I am not preaching the Good Word of the Lord, Amen!” He’s back to raising his arms, looking upwards, eyes closed.
“Have you always been a religious man?”
“No sir. I was a sinner, I tell you! I lied, I cheated, and I stole! I took our Lord’s name in vain, and coveted…well everything I didn’t have. I make no excuses for what I’ve done. I only hope that our Lord will forgive me and allow me to enter into his kingdom.” I’m thinking he is about to go to his knees right here on my porch and start praying.
“So how do I get in?” I asked, impressed and interested in this man’s level of commitment.
“You must accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior and repent.”
“Is there another way to get in? Like a backdoor or something? A loophole maybe?” I’m smiling now, thinking to myself how funny I think I am. But I can see by my Holy friend’s face he is not seeing the humor.
“Sir, your soul is not something you should joke about, your salvation is in danger!” His brows are furrowed and he looks equal bits concerned and angry. I laugh out loud, which wasn’t a very polite thing to do, but his conviction was entertaining to say the least.
“Trust me, my salvation is not in danger and neither is yours for that matter. And God jokes with us all the time.”
“Yes it is! All of our souls are in dire straits! As a former sinner I can see you, for who you are! You are a sinner yourself! You must repent! Or you will burn, so help me God, you will burn in the pit of despair for eternity with the rest of the sinners and you'll learn that God is not one for jokes!" Now he’s mad and his once open hand was now a clenched fist and he shook it at me as he talked.
“I know for a fact that God loves jokes, just look at the duck billed platypus, think he was serious when he made that? Look, I appreciate what you are trying to do here. And I know that he does too.” I point with my thumb upwards to make sure we’re on the same page. “But I think God has his own plans and his own view of the world. I don’t believe that he looks at us through the eyes of a human when it comes to salvation.” I stand up straight and cross my arms, satisfied with my argument and preparing to head back inside. I could feel this conversation coming to an end.
“I hope the Lord forgives you, have a blessed day.” He turns and stomps off my porch.
“Don’t worry, he will!” I call after him. I turn and walk back inside, closing and locking the door behind me.
“Who was that?” Comes the voice of my roommate coming out of his room his long hair still a mess.
“A guy trying to sell me church.” I say as I head to the coffee pot.
“Did you buy any?” He says with a chuckle, taking a seat at the table.
“He was pretty convincing, I’ll admit. I should have brought you out to meet him. I’d like to have seen his reaction to you face to face.”
“He wouldn’t have believed it. I would’ve had to prove it. And I get so tired of proving who I am when I come down here to visit.” He says shaking his head and running his fingers through his long beard.
“Well speaking of which, the coffee pot is busted. Can you change this water into coffee?” I ask handing him the coffee pot full of tap water.
“Sure can. I always thought coffee was better than wine anyway.”
Click.
Hello friend, please stay tuned.
You don’t want to miss this!
Hey! Buy this, you need it!
Ohh, watch this and this and this!
How about this? This is great!
Want this? You should, you need it.
Don’t be scared, just stay with me!
I think you may only need me, ever.
We make a good team!
Hey, watch this! Now this!
Buy this! That would look great on you!
Buy it!
Outside? You don’t want that.
Nah, too hot, too cold, to polluted.
Watch this! Buy this!
Feel this!
Worship this!
Again with the outside? Come on.
Who needs it? Skin cancer, acid rain, pollution, heat waves, hurricanes.
Don’t live it, just watch it. It’s safe in here. You need me!
Buy, buy, buy, believe, believe, believe.
Feel, feel, feel, buy, buy, buy.
Don’t leave me! You can’t live without me!
Please!
Watch this! This is what happens if you leave.
Crime, death, fear, war, I’ll show it all to you, right here.
No wait!
Look it’s your favorite! Watch this! Come on!
Oh look you need this, don’t leave, you have to buy this!
But I’ve been here for you, I’ve raised you, I’ve taught you.
I love you.
You love me…don’t you?
Click.
Mr. D: Hello, are you Alexandria Marie Thomas?
Alex: Yes.
Mr. D: Born December 22nd, 1971?
Alex: Yes, that’s me, and you are?
Mr. D: Alexandria is it true you are unwed and have no kids?
Alex: Yes. Wait, what are checking off on that clipboard?
Mr. D: I apologize, a few more questions please.
Alex: I don’t know about this. Who are you?
Mr. D: I go by many names, but you can call me Mr. D.
Alex: Mr. D? Ok, Mr. D, what is this all about?
Mr. D: Standard operating procedure, I assure you, Alexandria.
Alex: For what?
Mr. D: We’ll get to that. Now, what city were you born in?
Alex: I don’t think I want to answer anymore, until I know what’s going on.
Mr. D: It makes the survey so much harder if you know what it’s for, now. Just a few more, Ok?
Alex: I don’t know. I think I want to know, now.
Mr. D: Would it suffice to say that it is an entry survey?
Alex: Entry into what?
Mr. D: The next level. Unmarried and no children, right?
Alex: Yes, but what next level?
Mr. D: The one after this one. Birth city, please?
Alex: Vail, Colorado. Should I be worried? I mean, I don’t know what is going on here.
Mr. D: We are almost done, and then all your questions will be answered.
Alex: Almost done?
Mr. D: Almost, Alexandria.
Alex: Ok, but please call me Alex.
Mr. D: Last question, Alex. Have you enjoyed your life?
Alex: Some days, most days I guess, why?
Mr. D: Ok, thank you for your time. Are you ready to go?
Alex: Where?
Mr. D: Take my hand, please, I’ll show you.
Alex: It’s cold and dark in here.
Mr. D: Only for now, let’s keep going.
Alex: I’m scared Mr. D, where am I?
Mr. D: Alex, we are the end and at the beginning.
Alex: Am I dead? Is that what this is? How did this happen?
Mr. D: It’s best if you don’t know the details.
Alex: I want to know the details!
Mr. D: Alex, this is the last door. I can’t make you go through it; all I can do is suggest you do.
Alex: And if I don’t?
Mr. D: What happens on this side of the door is different for everyone. I don’t know your future.
Alex: What’s on the other side?
Mr. D: Your next chapter.
Alex: Why am I here? Why now?
Mr. D: My job is to fetch you when it’s time and it’s your time. I don’t know the “Why.”
Alex: Does D stand for Death? Are you Death, the Grim Reaper?
Mr. D: I told you, I have many names, all of which I answer to.
Alex: So this is it?
Mr. D: I am sorry, yes.
Alex: I just walk through this door here?
Mr. D: Yes.
Alex: Well D, thanks for the ride, I guess.
Mr. D: My pleasure, Alex. Good luck to you.
I picked up the receiver and I poised my finger, ready to dial her number. A deep breath in and then out. I repeated the number to myself. I pressed each number slowly and firmly repeating each number as I went. I brought the receiver to my ear and waited.
1 ring, 2 rings, 3 rings, 4 rings.
Maybe she wasn't there. Maybe she has a machine. What am I going to say on the machine? Maybe I should just hang up. But what if she has caller ID?
6 rings, 7 rings, 8 rings.
Should I just hang up right now?
11 rings, 12 rings, 13 rings.
I am going to hang up after the next ring.
15rings.
OK, after the next one.
16 rings.
I leaned closer to the phone making sure to cut down the time between removing the receiver from my ear to actually hanging up.
20 rings, 21rings, 22rings.
I wonder if I dialed the right number? I began searching the clutter on my desk for the small scrap of paper she had written her number on.
25 rings, 26 rings, 27 rings.
I know it is here somewhere.
30 rings, 31 rings, 32 rings.
Then I saw it lying on the floor next to the leg of the desk.
35 rings. 36 rings, 37 rings.
I read the number and tried to remember if that is the number I dialed.
41 rings, 42 rings, 43 rings.
I think it was, right? Yeah, of couse it is.
45 rings, 46 rings, 47 rings.
I wonder where she is.
48 rings.
Why, doesn't she have an answering machine?
49 rings.
There goes my call waiting, maybe it's her.
50 rings.
The wind blew in, and with it the strong smell of rain. The sky took on the menacing green tint that warned us that it was going to be a bad one. I was still 4 blocks from home, and even if I hoofed it I don't think I'd beat the storm. The first few drops hit me on the cheek, and the size of the drops worried me. The oaks and elms began bending and leaves exploded off their branches by the wind. It was going to be more than rain, that was for certain. I decided that cover was first and foremost, and that even though it would worry my parents that I wasn't home, I decided they'd rather me be safe from the approaching elements. I hustled across the street and hopped the chain linked fence. I darted across an open field, through the playground, and under the covered walkway of William Howard Taft Middle School, my middle school. I jogged over to the science building's door, and as I've done a hundred times before I jiggled the handle. I twisted it right, then left, then up and then yanked. The latch slid open and I slipped into the school just as the bottom fell out of the storm clouds. As the door closed behind me, it was in sync with a large thunder clap, as golf ball size hail began pelting the tin roof of the building. The air conditioned hallway felt good against my skin as I pressed my sweaty forehead to the door's window and stared out. Bits of paper and trash blew and swirled as the wind railroaded through the school. I could here the spooky whistle of the wind slipping through the failing weather stripping on the door. I turned and walked down the dark and empty hallway, wondering how long I would have to hold out here until the storm passed. It was late on Sunday afternoon, so I knew there was good chance I was all alone. The cleaning crew would have finished hours ago, and not many teachers were interested in putting in extra hours and not getting paid for it. I walked down to room 408, the science lab, and was in luck, Mr. Lowery had left it unlocked again. I walked over to the cages lined up on the far wall, and removed the lid to Mr. Nibbles' cage. Mr. Nibbles was the class rat. He was mostly white with a black hind quarter. I placed Mr. Nibbles or Nibbs as I call him on my shoulder where he sat, as usual, quite content. I walked over to the window to check the situation. I was answered with a bright lighting bolt and a deafening clap. Nibbs tucked his cold nose into the collar of my shirt, afraid and shaking. I reached up and stroked his back to calm him down. He thanked me by turning around and earning his name with a sharp snap of his teeth on my finger. This earned him a trip back to his cell, where I set him down and closed the lid. I wiped the blood from my finger on my jeans, and then winced, but not from the pain. I realized Mom was not going to be happy about a stain on my new jeans, but what done is done. As I was checking the bite, I noticed something new in the lab out of the corner of my eye. In the corner of the room was a black sheet draped across a box. Maybe another cage? A new cage? I walked over, and like a magician revealing his feat, I yank the drape from the box. TA-DA! Inside was your standard wood chips, food bowl, water bottle, and a little yellow dome for something to live in. I peered in as best I could, but couldn't make out what is living in there. I was about to lift the lid and lift off the dome, but was haunted at the idea that it might be snake or a spider or giant scorpion. And if whatever unknown creature bit me, no one would find my body until Monday morning, and that thought worried me just a bit. Instead of taking my life in my hands, I gently knocked on the glass to try and wake up what ever was inside. Nothing moved. I peered in through the side of the glass, first the left then the right, but still, nothing. Confused, I stepped away and looked at the entire glass aquarium. (Technically I guess it's a terrarium, because it's not filled with water. Whatever.) Then, I noticed a corner of paper sticking out from under the glass box. I gentle slid the paper out and began to read:
CAUTION. DO NOT OPEN. CAUTION
Contents to be opened by Dr. Dennis Lowery, ONLY.
DANGEROUS CREATURE INSIDE.
CAUTION. DO NOT OPEN. CAUTION.
Sent from: Dr. Joseph F. Carshart and Dr. Randall Codwell III.
SHIP TO:
Dennis Lowery
William Taft Middle School
6116 NW Park Dr.
Owenville, KS 92219
RETURN ADDRESS:
Biology Department University Study
6 Rio Rancho 557-8
Borneo, Malaysia
I read, and then re-read the packing slip. Borneo? I didn't even know where that was. And Dr. Lowery? My middle school science teacher is a doctor? Why was a doctor teaching 7th grades science? That doesn't make sense. And what about the warnings on the box? I was even more curious, but still a bit frightened of the unknown. I placed the packing slip down on the desk and thought about my next move to safely see this "DANGEROUS CREATURE." I knocked on the glass again, and rocked the case just a bit, but still nothing. As I stood there my faced pressed against the glass a bright flash of lighting lit the dark room. And in the split second of light, I noticed a shift in the wood shavings from inside the yellow dome. The light! It must be the light! That would explain the cover over the aquarium. I stepped to the door and peaked out into the hall, to make sure the coast was still clear. I closed the door and placed my hand on the light switches. I kept my eyes glued to the box and flipped all three switches at once. The florescent lights took a moment to catch, but soon the entire science lab was bathed in its typical harsh light. A split second later the yellow dome flipped up, turned over and a black blur darted behind the food bowl. I took slow cautions steps towards the aquarium and peaked in. Huddled and panting behind the food bowl sat a small black ball of fur. From over the bowl appeared two huge blue eyes staring up at me. The creature crawled from around the bowl and stood on it's hind legs. It sort of looked like a mouse, but lacked the snout of a rodent. It had a flat face, almost monkey-like. It seemed to be standing with its little black hands on its hips, staring at me. It opened its small mouth and let out a little pathetic squeak. It then reached up and scratched its little beige colored ears. Still on two legs it walked over to its food bowl and looked in. The food bowl was empty and the little creature looked back at me with what seemed to be a sad, longing look. I leaned down closer to the glass and looked into the little fuzzball's huge eyes. Dangerous creature? This little thing, dangerous? I think he's hungry, I wonder what he or she eats. I looked around to see if there was food bag or box somewhere, but there was nothing close by. I decided that if this thing is rat-like, maybe it eats rat food. I stole a box of Nibb's feed and opened it up. When I returned to the creature it was in it's food bowl licking the inside of the bowl, starving. It stared back up at me, and I swear it looked at the food in my hands and grinned. This thing is too weird. I took a deep breath, and the words "DANGEROUS CREATURE" scrolled through my head as I slowly removed the top of the aquarium. The black fuzzed creature jumped out of the bowl and ran, still on two legs, to the overturned dome. I carefully dumped a few pieces of food into the bowl, all the time watching the little fuzzball, watch me. After I filled the bowl, the little creature crawled up on top of the dome, and looked at me, and cocked it's head. I smiled at it and as I reached to replace the lid, I felt something hit me in the elbow. I looked down and the little creature had leaped from the top of the dome and had attached itself to the sleeve of my shirt, a leap of about two feet. I was a little bit nervous, but made no sudden movements and I let the guy (or girl) crawl, or I guess walk up my arm to my shoulder. It dug around in my hair for a moment and walked down my other arm. It stopped and sat on my wrist, and turned and looked at me. This time I was pretty sure it did smile at me. I smiled back and reached with my other hand slowly to try and pet it. I can't imagine why this creature is considered so dangerous. The creature turned and saw my other hand coming, and I could feel it's little body tense. I spoke softly, trying to calm it down. And just when I felt it relax, old mother nature threw a monkey wrench. All of a sudden flash of lighting, followed by a crash of thunder shook the building and the lights flickered. The loud noise scared the small creature and me as well. It ran up my arm, and and ducked into my shirt sleeve as I dropped the food box, spilling its contents everywhere. The little beast had curled up on my bicep and I could see it breathing through my shirt's sleeve, panting. I gently rolled up my sleeve and uncovered the animal. Something had changed though. The animal turned and bared its teeth. They were a jagged collection of pearly white spikes, and it let out a low growl. I felt my own breath quickening and my heart racing. The little creature reached down with its small hands that somehow had grown long needle like claws. Before I could react the creature dug his nails into my arm and opened its mouth wide. His teethlocked on and a jolt of pain arched up my arm and exploded in my head. Before I could scream the room began to spin and the sounds of the storm grew muffled as I spun to the ground. Then everything went dark..
The light filtered in through my half closed eyes and my head throbbed. I tried to get to my feet, but I could not gain traction and kept slipping back down on my back. Everything was blurry and the lights were so bright that it pained me to open my eyes. Finally after too many failed attempts I got to my feet, unsteadily. Still blinded, I shuffled forward and ran smack into a wall. The thud echoed through the room and in my head. I stumbled back a step and reached out with my hands. The wall was cold, and felt strangly different. I rubbed my eyes, and slowly thing came into focus. I could see the lab and the desks, and to my right I could see the window and noticed that the wind was dying down. Everything looked warped, and strange, like I was looking through a funhouse mirror. I sat down, and rubbed my throbbing head and blurry eyes. I was startled by a knock. BOOM. The knock seemed louder than it should be, and seemed to shake everything and echo. I looked up and was shocked, I saw my face staring back at me. What sort of weird mirror is this? Then I saw my hand reach out and knock again. But I didn't move my hand. I looked down and saw that my hands were covered in black fur, and my fingernails were gone and replaced by long needle-like claws. Just like the...wait a minute, what!? I jumped to feet and stared back at the giant version of me, and I was smiling or something was smiling, but that isn't my smile. It was too sinister too, stolen. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a squeak. The version of me began to laugh, but it didn't sound like me. It was deeper than what I remember my voice sounding like, and had an evil edge about it. I scampered across the wood chips and up on the yellow dome house, and I reached up as high I as I could, but could not reach the box's top. I jumped down and began banging on the glass, and scratching with my new claws. But the glass was too thick, I didn't even leave a mark. I collapsed onto the floor of the cage, my cage now, panting and stared up at what was once my face, my body. I noticed that not only my smile and my laugh were different but the person staring at me had blue eyes like the creature had. I glanced out of the glass and could see that the storm had passed and the last few rays of the day were beginning to fill the room. The version of me outside the cage noticed the clearing skies as well, and grinned that foriegn grin with my mouth. How did this happen? What happen? I let out a few more squeaks, trying to ask these urgent questions. With a last glance at me, he walked to the wall and flipped the light switch off. The pounding in y head stopped, and my eyes stoped aching. He returned to the cage and grabbed the cloak from where it lay. He paused and fixed me with my stolen stare, and nodded, almost like he was wishing me luck. Then, with one fell swoop he spread the cloak over the aquarium, plunging me into darkness. I heard the squeak of what was once my shoes as the creature walked away in my stolen body. I heard the lab door creak open and then slam shut. I laid down on my back in the rather soft wood shavings, and stared at my ceiling, the box top too angry and shocked to cry. From the hallway I heard whistling, whistling a tune I did not know that was passing through the lips I once owned. I heard the main door swing open, and my body's thief was gone, escaped. And I was alone, in the dark, in a body that was not mine, starting a life I did not chose
Answer the door to your cancer
And close the drapes in your mind
Do what you do to the evil
It will all find you in time
Listen or don’t to the message
Sit away or close to the flame
They talk about things getting better
But you take none of the blame
They say someday you’ll get through this
They’ll tell you it will all be set right
But people lie just like you do
We all expect you to lose this fight
There is no hope in the corner
No rope to pull you free
I fired the angel on your shoulder
This is not what you expected it to be
The lights are out in the hallway
In your room the bed is unmade
Soon we all hope to forget you
One day your memory will fade
As I turned the last corner before the elevator lobby, I glanced down at my watch, it was 5:46 pm. My shift was supposed to end at 5:00pm, but as usual I was got stuck working on a proposal for Monday's meeting. I still wasn't done, so I had my laptop tucked under my arm and my hand full of files and loose papers. Pie charts and bar graphs were still swimming in my head as I reached to push the DOWN button to call the elevator, but stopped short because it was already lit. I looked up, and leaning against the wall was Wendy the new receptionist, I mean administrative assistant. Her nose was buried in a beat up paperback, and I am not sure she knew I was there. Wendy was new to Hastings Morgan, having only started 2 weeks ago, but she had already a reputation around the office. She was hard nosed, snotty little brat who thought she was smarter than everyone around her. I had never actually spoken with her, so I wrote all the rumors off as hearsay. I cleared my throat to see if she's look up, but she kept herself buried in her book. What was she reading? I took a cautionary step towards and leaned forward to get a look. Catcher in the Rye.
"I enjoyed that book." I said, with a friendly smile.
"Yeah." Was all she replied not looking up, so I decided on a different approach.
"Have you been waiting long for the elevator?"
"Yeah."
Is this the only word she can say? But I wasn't ready to give up on her just yet.
"I wonder what the deal is, don't they know it's Friday? Let us go!" I pretend to protest. This time Wendy abandoned her standard response of "Yeah." Instead she went with an annoyed sigh, still never looking up from the book. I decided I'd give her one more chance at saving my judgment, I'd give her one more chance to prove to me that the rumors were wrong.
"Big plans this weekend, Wendy?" I asked, this time using her name in the hopes that she would recognize me as someone she might know, maybe someone she'd like to be nicer to. Wendy, keeping her finger marked in the book, looked up with an emotionless expression. I couldn't decide if it was contempt for me, or she was thinking of an appropriate response, I hoped for the latter.
"Look, man I just want to read my book while waiting for the elevator and get the hell out of here. So if you wouldn't mind could you just wait in silence like a good little boy? Thank you, Chuck?”
She dived back into her book without another word. I stood there staring at her, with a shocked looked on my face. Then my temperature started to rise, and I began to grow angry. Who in the hell does little good for nothing piece of trash thinks she is? I don't deserve to be talked to this way! How dare she? Just as I was about to open my mouth to tell her off, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Wendy walked in with out looking up from her book, and I followed in after her. The elevator was empty except for us, and she dug herself into the corner of the elevator opposite the buttons. I was still fuming as I took up the other side of the box. I noticed she hadn't pushed any of the buttons, I guess she expected me to do this for her, the snarky little smart ass. I took a deep calming breath, and turned to her.
"Which floor, please?" I asked in the sweetest sing-songy sarcastic voice I could manage. There was no way I was going to let her know that she got a rise out of me. I waited patiently, fingers poised over the unlit buttons.
"Wendy? Which floor for you?"
She still didn't answer, but instead she shot me an angry glare, followed it up with another sigh.
"Unsure? Well how about we sample a few of them, to see which one fits best."
And with that I started pushing every button. And since the we are on the 31st floor, that was a lot of buttons to push.
"What the hell are you doing!?" She yelled at me.
"Sampling floors, of course!" I responded with a grin.
"I swear to God, Chuck! What the hell is wrong with you?" She continued to shriek as the elevator doors opened on 30th floor with a 'Ding'. I leaned back and smiled. Tit for tat, she pissed me off I piss her off. The universe is in balanced.
Ding, 29th floor.
Ding, 28th floor.
Ding, 27th floor.
I hope I am ruining her Friday night, maybe next time she'll learn to be a bit more nicer.
Ding, 26th floor.
Ding, 25th floor.
She let out another sigh and closed her book. She leaned her head back against the wall of the elevator, and began mumbling to herself. I couldn't quite make it out, but it was full of venom, she was furious.
"This is the most immature, childish thing I have ever seen. You are unbelievable!"
She kept her dark brown eyes glued to me, waiting for a response.
Ding, 24th floor.
Ding, 23rd floor.
"You should learn to be nicer, to show some respect. What is wrong with you?" I ask, still leaning against the wall trying to act non-nonchalantly.
"Me? What's wrong with me? You're the one acting like a complete jack ass! Damn it, Chuck!"
"Stop calling me Chuck! It's Charles. Not Charlie not Chuck, Charles!"
For the next 3 floors we hurdle insults at each other. We call each other names, we yell over each other, we point fingers, and roll our eyes.
Ding, 19th floor.
On this floor we stop screaming at each other instantly and turn to see that we have an audience. Standing there is the office building custodian, pushing a yellow mop bucket about to step into elevator. We both look at him, and his unsure, uncomfortable look on his face.
"I'll wait for the next one." He says timidly as the doors close.
I can't help it, I start laughing. An uncontrollable, side splitting laughter. My laptop clatters to the floor, as do all my files and papers, and I struggle to breathe between laughing fits.
Ding, 18th floor.
Ding, 17th floor.
I look up and Wendy has started laughing too. Hers is a high pitched giggle, but tears are streaming out of her eyes, her copy of Catcher in the Rye sits face down on the floor of the elevator.
Ding, 16th floor.
Ding, 15th floor.
Ding, 14th floor.
We have just started to calm down and regain composure, as we reach the 12th floor.
Ding, 12th floor.
“You are still a jack ass, Chuck.” Wendy says wiping tears from her cheeks.
“Well, you’re still a mean person, Wendy.” I say as I bend down and collect my belongings.
“Aw, man I needed that.” She says as picks up her book.
“The yelling or the laughing?”
Ding, 11th floor.
“Both, I guess.” She says.
“Can we start over?” I ask brushing my hair back out of my face.
“All 31 floors?” She asks with a smile, the first smile of our trip.
Ding, 10th floor.
I laugh a little, but stop it quickly in fear I might lose it again.
“I did enjoy that book.” I say looking at her with a hopeful grin.
“Yeah.” She replies. And I stop, thinking that we are headed down the same path, but she continues.
Ding, 9th floor.
“I’ve read it like 20 times.” She continues.
“20 times? Wow.” I respond, truly surprised.
“I think it’s Hemmingway’s greatest work.” She says with what I think is a smirk.
Ding, 8th floor.
“I think the Sun Also Rises is Hemmingway’s best work. But that’s not who wrote Catcher in the Rye, that’s Salinger, but you already knew that.”
“Yeah, just a little literary test.” The harshness has left her eyes, and her smile looks like it fits better than the scowl. I smile, and glance as the doors slide open yet again.
Ding, 7th floor.
“Sorry about all the buttons I pushed.” I say, as I feel the blood rush to my face in embarrassment.
“It was cheaper than therapy.” She says, and holds my gaze for a moment, chewing on her lip.
Ding 6th floor.
“Look, we only have 5 floors left. So let me get this all out, before we reach the bottom, and we are released from our cell.” She says, and takes a deep breath.
“I am sorry I was so rude to you. I’m not a very nice person, I like to keep to myself. But, for some reason everyone here wants to chit-chat or hit on me. I don’t come to work to build friendships or find dates. Everyone in this whole city comes off as big phonies. And I can’t stand it.”
Ding, 5th floor.
“So, I keep to myself and I try to keep people away. It’s just how I’ve always been, and over the years I’ve become good at it.” She takes a deep breath and I notice a little shakiness in her voice as she continues.
“I just want to be left alone, most of the time.”
I pause and let her words hang in our moving box.
Ding. 4th floor.
I am at a loss for words, and I search my thoughts for something to say. I move my laptop to my left arm and put all my files in my left hand. I step from my cozy corner of the elevator and cautiously extend my hand.
“Well, my name is Charles, and I am not hitting on you, I’m not a phony, and I don’t do small talk.”
She takes my hand and grips it harder than expected, and we shake.
Ding, 3rd floor.
“It’s nice to meet you, Charles. My name is Wendy, and thank you for not hitting on me, and not trying to small talk me, and I know you are not a phony.” She releases my hand, and smiles.
Ding, 2nd floor.
“Well, we are almost there. I hope you have a good weekend.” I say as I turn and readjust my take home work, ready to depart the elevator.
“Yeah, you too. See you at work on Monday?”
“Sure thing, but with fewer stops on the way down.”
“Agreed.”
Ding, 1st floor.
