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.
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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