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Monday, October 28, 2013

A New Start at the House of George Part 3



I have set up an interview with the owner of a house who is looking for a roommate for one of his “additional bedrooms.’ 

His name is George and his house is located off of Central Avenue and is about a 15-minute walk from Joe’s house. George’s house is in a pretty residential area; there is a gas station on the corner and a Denny’s two blocks away.


I make a mental note to see if I can be transferred from the Colonie Denny’s to the Central Avenue Denny’s. I begin my Denny’s training at the end of this week, so it might take me awhile to work out a transfer.

The house sits on the corner of the block and sits a little ways back from the street. A short brick path leads from the sidewalk to the front door. The house looks huge from the outside but it is all one level. There is no way, from standing outside that I think there is any room in this house for more than one bedroom.

I walk around to get a look at the side and back of the house. An above ground swimming pool sits in the backyard surrounded by a four-foot tall metal fence with a metal gate that leads to the street. Large bushes have been planted to give some privacy to people when they swim. From where I am standing I can see a pool deck built into the side and attached to the house.

I walk back around to the front of the house, walk up the path, step onto the porch and ring the doorbell. Looking at my watch, I see that I am right on schedule. Nothing happens after I press the button but I can hear someone inside the house screaming “Fuck You! Fuck You!”  But no one comes to the door.

I wait another couple of minutes and ring the bell again. Silence that is followed by someone inside the house screaming “Fuck You Fuck You!” Then I hear a whistle followed by silence. Then someone screams “Cocksucker, Cocksucker!”

Leaning to one side I can see a little side window that I peer into. I can see a figure heading towards the door but I can hear another voice screaming out “Shut the fuck up!” I’m not really sure that I want to go in here but the minute I turn to walk away the front door opens.  “You must be Geoff,” says a rather gruff voice. I turn back and see a man standing there. he stands there holding open the screen door with one hand and putting out his other hand coaxing me to come inside.

The man stands about six one and I guess his age to be late 60’s early 70’s. His hair is shoe polish black and he sports a pencil thin moustache, that is the same color as his hair. His eyes have no sparkle to them, the skin on his face is weathered and the lines on his face create several little frown lines.

He tries to smile to put me at ease. It seems calculated and cold.
I assume that this is man is George. He is wearing a dark blue security guard uniform with big black clompy shoes; handcuffs that hang along with a club swing from his utility belt. Suddenly, everything about this man says Serial Killer to me. “I’m sorry, I think that I need to…” I say stepping back off the stoop. “Nonsense,” he says taking a step closer to me on  the porch he reaches out his hand and catches my elbow.

“You came this far, you might as well see the room.” He slowly pulls me into the house closing the door behind me.


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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