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Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 10 Enter the 9th Circle

I felt frozen to the spot.  I could feel the sweat forming on the back of my neck.  I wanted to drop the tray and run for my life.  Whatever this was, it was not worth it.  “My…my…my name is Geoff” I stammered.  “Don’t just fucking stand there, get me some water” the voice demanded.  “Ice is in the freezer.”  I still could not see who it was I was talking to.  The smell of death and decay clung to everything. 
I walked around piles of newspapers, magazines and piles of rotting clothes.  The cats watched my every move.  I was standing in the kitchen, or at least I thought it was the kitchen.  I could see the fridge and somewhere there had to be a stove.  I spotted what looked at one time to be a white microwave oven; a thick layer of grease covered the top and side, giving it a slightly brownish yellow look. 
I placed the tray on top of several of the half full mason jars.  The smell in the apartment was burning my eyes and nose.  “Hurry, the fuck up!” the voice yelled.  “I…..I’m going as fast as I can” I said.  I had to keep repressing the feeling that I was going to vomit at any minute.  A cat walked on the counter in front of me, it dragged its tail under my nose.  “Rowr” the cat said looking into my eyes pausing briefly before it could make a return trip.  I was definitely standing on things that were on the floor.  If I had to guess I was suspended about five inches above the floor.
“Do you want the water they sent upstairs with me?” I asked.  “Do you want the water they sent upstairs with me?” he mimicked.  “Fucking genius” he snarled sounding like steam escaping a tight valve.  “Use your fucking brain.” He hissed.  I was listening intently  to where the voice was coming from. 
My guess was that he was behind the slightly closed door twelve feet away from me.  Slowly and as quietly as I could, I began walking over and around the mounds of garbage on the floor towards the voice.  “What the fuck is taking so long?” he screamed.  Somewhere in the room with the slightly closed door, objects hit the floor.   In his anger he was throwing things to the floor. 
Slowly I headed towards the door, I could hear my breathing.  I reached out with a trembling hand and pressed one finger to the door.  It moved slowly inwards but not before letting out a loud creak.  “Where is my water? Where is my water? Where is my water?” he began screaming slapping his hands on the bed. 
The door slowly opened and the smell that I first encountered when I entered the apartment was much worse.  I squinted into the room.  I couldn’t see anything.  The room was dark and the blinds were pulled.  The only light was coming from a street light outside. 
I could see a figure lying on what I thought was a bed in the middle of a pile of garbage.  He leaned up on his elbows and looked at me; I still could not see his face.  “Where the fucking holy god dammed hell is my water?” he screeched.  The urge to vomit was stronger than it had been.
To be continued………

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writting "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

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