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Monday, September 16, 2013

8 Balls and the House on Dana Part 14


The water fills the apartment immediately, taking everything that it comes in contact with for a ride. It spills over the kitchen floor and quickly races into every part of the apartment. Stacks of records on the floor, magazines, books and clothes began to quickly sop up the dirty water before they give up all together and float around.

I run into the kitchen grab a roll of paper towels as the water is rising to mid calf. It’s here that I end up facing the side window. The glass pane on the bottom of the window has given way but not before cracking into millions of pieces. Sharp shards of glass weakly cling on before getting swept into the swirl.

I stand there and watch as the water pours and pours into our apartment. I quickly realize, that the paper towels in my hand are not going to help. I need a mop, a sub pump and a prayer.
The cats go running for higher ground as the water carries their bowls towards the bathroom. On its ways to pick up the bowls, the water rushes under the hot water tank and extinguishes the flame.

There I nothing that I can do to stop the water. I run to the phone, pick it up and listen for a dial tone. The phone is still working because of a deal Kim and I worked out with the phone company. We will pay our bill this week, or they will shut it off. Deal done.

I dial the landlord’s number that I find written on a scrap piece of paper. The water rushes and rises towards the electrical outlets. 

The phone in my hand, rings and rings, then an answering machine picks up the call.

The landlord’s sunny voice explains that he has stepped out and will be back soon but I need to be sure that I leave a message. I do, and my message is this…water, flood, glass, hot water tank, quick and help. 

It is all screamed in a hysterical high pitch and then the phone gets slammed down. Half a second later I call his phone again and still I get the goddamned answering machine. This time I scream, help, fucker and what the fuck are we going to do? Then, I slam the receiver down again.

I am at a crazy hysterical pitch as I fall to my knees sobbing. 

Everything that we own, everything that we have is swirling in dirty brown water. The phone cord is stretched so the phone can sit on the top of the bookshelf.

I don’t even think that one end of the phone cord is in the water but realize it the minute I I grab for the receiver. The lack of dial tone tells me that I am fucked, so I drop it in the water, put my hands on my face and continue sobbing hysterically.

The front door suddenly is being pounded on from the outside but the swirling water is helping to hold it closed. The door is suddenly being shoved open as water swirls out into the entryway. Kim manages to get her face in the opening between the jamb and the door. Our eyes meet and she asks me in a high-pitched hysterical voice “What the fuck did you do?”

To be continued…

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

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