Read the Blog in Full

Read the Blog in full

Read the Blog in full

Monday, November 8, 2010

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 11 Enter the 9th Circle

I reached out and searched the wall for a light switch.  “Don’t turn the fucking light on!” he screamed. 

“I……I….I….can’t see” I said.  “Don’t turn the fucking light on!” he screamed again.  “I can’t see” I said again raising my voice.  “Don’t turn the fucking light on, don’t turn the fucking light on, don’t turn the fucking light on!” he screamed louder and began to slap his hands on the bed again. 

I started to feel intense pressure and could feel my heart beating faster.  “Oh for Christ’s sake, shut up!” I screamed surprising myself.
My hand began to move faster over the wall searching for the switch, the panic in me was rising again.  I found it and brought my hand up fast, the familiar click sound bathed the room in yellow light.  He screamed as if he was being doused in Holy water. 
I looked over at the bed, he was writhing and screaming.  What I saw in front of me was an old man with yellow skin.  He was shriveled and wearing a stained filthy t-shirt.  His hair was short and standing up in all directions.  His finger nails were long and broken and he was lying in his own filth. 
What really shocked me was that one of his legs was black, swollen and I could see the bone.  The smell was overpowering and I could feel the room spinning.  “Oh my god, you need a doctor” I mumbled.  “What I need is some fucking water, some fucking quiet and for you to turn off the fucking lights and to get the fuck out of my house!” he hissed at me.
I ran back into the kitchen opened the fridge and found the ice and threw it the Mason jar and ran back into the bedroom.  I climbed over all the garbage and came to the side of the bed and extended my hand to him.  His hand wrapped around my wrist and he pulled himself to me.  He reminded me of a sick bird that’s claw has wrapped itself around my arm.  I forced myself not to scream.  He grabbed the jar and began to drink the water spilling it down the front of himself. 
“I need a cigarette now” he said spitting water on me. “What you need is a doctor and a shower” I shot back at him.  “You’re pretty mouthy” he growled at me.  “I am also the only one who’s obviously walked this far into your house in years” I said standing. I grabbed his cigarettes and lit one. “Who the hell said you can smoke in my house?” he screamed.
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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