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Sunday, November 24, 2013

A New Start at the House of George Part 7

There is no way that I feel comfortable walking down this hallway with George now directly in back of me. “I can’t see anything.” I mumble as I slowly edge forward.

“Yeah, I put the light in the middle of this hallway and I should have installed it in front near the door.” George says with a little laugh. 

“Just a little bit further” he says.

George now places one hand on my shoulder and I physically jump. “A little jumpy?” George asks with his hand still on me. “No,” I respond “No, not at all.” Actually, I can hear my own heartbeat loud in my ears. I am afraid that George will turn on the lights and I will find myself in the middle of a torture chamber with other victims tied up. My brain reminds me that I was warned.

“Wait, I think the switch is somewhere on this wall.” George stops and takes his hand off my shoulder. I can hear Georges hand moving across the wall looking for the light switch. It’s the sound of dry calloused hands on wood. “Here it is!” George yells excitedly. 

The switch makes a click and nothing happens, then another click and again nothing happens. “Motherfucker!” George yells. “Are you fucking kidding me?” George continues flipping the light switch up and down, up and down and still nothing happens.

“Good Christ,” George screams, “The lights must have blown out.” “Wait here, I’ll fix this.” With that said I am left alone in the dark. I can hear George moving his hand up and down the wall, moving far away from me. “Motherfucker, God of hell,” George screams as he crashes into random crap in the dark.

I don’t move. “This is it,” I think to myself, “He is going to leave me here in the dark and come back later to kill me.

Minutes suddenly feel like hours in the dark. I figure that I will turn around and head back in the direction I came. “Just move slow,” I say out loud as I turn around and slowly inch back the way I came.

That’s when I hear a large “Clack” and the lights come on bathing the whole basement around me in a sick yellow light. I let out a scream when I see that someone is directly in front of me. It takes a minute to realize that it is a mirror and I am looking at my own reflection.

“Are you ok?” I hear George yell from the end of the basement. “I’m ok,” I yell back. George appears and is walking towards me. “Well the light wasn’t out, the circuit breaker was thrown and…” he stops. “Did you scream at your own reflection?” I say nothing as George’s nose crinkles up and his eyes twinkle, then he laughs and laughs, he starts laughing so hard that he begins to cough.

“You must have thought that I was some sort of killer or something leaving you alone in the dark!” George is killing himself laughing. He slides down and sits on the floor. “You should see your face!” George laughs harder pointing at me.

Somehow I wonder if he is a killer and this is the way he likes to play.


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.


Monday, November 18, 2013

A New Start at the House of George Part 6

“And that is my ex!” George says stepping into the house before closing and locking the screen door from the inside. Then he does the same to the metal door that leads into the house. Then he turns the deadlock.

Raising one finger to his lips, he turns to me and says in a low voice ““Shhhhh…Our little secret.”

“Tell me where on the doll he touched you?” I imagine the police department will be asking me later. That is if I can get out of this house of crazy. We have only begun the tour and I am with a man heading into the basement with a man wearing a security guard uniform. My brain whispers that he is “Also carrying a club and handcuffs. “

I am always prepared. Always. I watch a lot of horror movies. I know some things. Important things. Like, never let the security guard with a club and handcuffs ever get behind you. Look for a pitchfork when you walk into a room, you might need this to kill him if he turns into something else like a Vampire or a Wolf man.

It is 20 steps to the basement, no more and no less. I do the math. “How fast will I need to hit the steps to do two at a time?” George opens a door at the bottom of the stairs and we walk into a shared bathroom. Large room, yellow shag carpeting, dingy lighting, glassed in shower (exposed), toilet (exposed) and a sink. This is clearly a display room in which to clean and kill bodies before you turn them into what? I scan for clues.

George gets a twinkle in his eye “Shower, toilet and sink, lots of room and right across from my bedroom.” George slaps his hand on the wall. “No one goes in my room but me.”

I try not to shit my pants and focus on the task at hand. I clearly just jumped, because the twinkle in his eyes gets bigger. Or did his moustache move? Twitch? Maybe it didn’t. I can’t tell. I am wired like a jumpy cat, just waiting for George to kill me. “The bedroom is at the other end of the basement,” George says extending his arm pointing. I look in the direction. The hallway is dark and a crack of light is coming from somewhere down that dark and spooky corridor.

“At the other end of the hallway?” I ask. “Yes, at the other end of the hallway.” George continues pointing. “Rule number one is to never let the killer get behind you,” my brain screams.

George continues pointing as he steps 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.

Monday, November 11, 2013

A New Start at the House of George Part 5

George motions with his hand to the staircase. The stairs go down about five steps to a landing. The landing has a door that opens to the backyard and to the pool area. “Hey, why don’t we check this out on our way downstairs?” George says pausing to open the door to the backyard. There is also a second door, a screen door, he props this open and I follow him outside.

The backyard is almost bricked in with little patches of grass poking out here and there. The pool is a four-foot above ground pool that is surrounded by a wood deck. Various towels and swim trunks hang haphazardly over the pool rail, drying in the sun. Several plants and trees have been positioned to give whoever is in the pool complete privacy.

As I round the deck I notice   someone standing in the pool against the far wall. He is in his early fifties, hair parted in the middle, slightly feathered. He sports thick round glasses and a 70s Porn moustache. His arms are spread out and resting on the pool deck. As his body stays open and to the front he smiles as our eyes meet. He is not what I consider handsome or even attractive but he has a smile that lights up his eyes.

“That one is Bill,” says George jabbing his thumb in Bill’s direction. “My ex who won’t leave.” Snarls George, walking around to the side of the pool. “I own half the house,” snorts Bill extending his arm as he walks through the water to get to me. “She,” Bill drawls and pauses briefly without looking at George but nods his head in George’s direction “Can’t seem to get it into her pretty, dizzy head, that I’m not leaving until I get paid to do so.”

Bill is now standing directly in front of me his hand still extended. I reach out to shake it. “Charmed,” Bill purrs as he flips the back of his hand up for me to kiss it. Then in a baby voice Bill pulls his hand out of mine. “I would join you on dry land but somewhere my bathing suit got lost and I have one heck of a time finding it.” Bill crosses his arms as if he is hiding breasts that I can’t see
“Beneath this top layer of water, I am au natural.” Bill slides down so his shoulders dip beneath the water. He takes his right index finger and makes a “no, no” motion in my direction.

“Too bad you resemble Ethel Merman instead of Esther Williams,” snarks George loud enough for anyone in the neighborhood to hear.  “I’m Marilyn Monroe,” Bill purrs as he starts to turn around and walk back to his original resting place.
“You never could figure that out could you?” Bills screams at George. Bill then stops mid walk and glance at me over his shoulder. “Dirty Boy, I can read your thoughts and the answer is yes I could be yours.”

“Stay right there,” announces George to Bill walking back to the screen door “I have to get an extension cord and a toaster, won’t take me a minute.

Bill snaps back at George “You know that I can’t ever die, wicked witches never really die, I will keep coming back and back.” With this said Bill slides his back against the wall, puts his head back and closes his eyes. “And close the door on your way in.” says Bill throwing his final dig at George out of the corner of his mouth.


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.

Monday, November 4, 2013

A New Start at the House of George Part 4

The first room immediately to my right after entering the House of George, is the living room. Directly in front of me are two Lazy Boy rockers with an end table that sits between them. The ashtray on the table is filled to capacity with smoked cigarettes. 

In the corner behind one of the Lazy Boy Rockers sits a giant cage. In the cage sits a giant parrot. This is George Jr., says George presenting the bird with a sweep of his arm.

“Hi George Jr.” I say taking a step closer to the cage. “Fuck You Cocksucker,” the bird screams as he bounces up and down. “I would watch my hand near George Jr.” George says before pulling me gently back from the cage. “Faggot, Faggot, Cocksucker!” The bird screams before grasping the bars with his beak. He moves one foot at a time to hang onto the side of the cage and flap his wings. “Cocksucker, Cocksucker!” he screams again.

“Isn’t that cute?” George asks me, “I taught him that.” “Fuck you, Fuck You!” screams George Jr. apparently to both of us. The bird never stops talking as George gives me the tour of the living room. On the opposite side of the room is a large giant wooden box, roughly the size of a coffin with a movie screen attached to it. 

“This is my favorite thing.” George says as he strokes the top of the box with the sleeve of his jacket. “The latest in home stereos, everything is attached and runs through speakers located throughout the house.” George reaches down, lifting the lid of the box. “This is a laser disc player.” The lid creaks open as I take a step forward. Inside the box are three light units that will project on the screen as soon as it’s turned on. Next to the television, George makes another proud sweep with his arm. “This is my Laser Disc Collection.”

I notice the first two titles on the shelf are the Texas Chain Saw Massacre and I spit on your grave. The discs are the same size as a vinyl record; they have a hard plastic outside. “How do you play these?” I ask. “Well, the disc is inside and you click it into the player,” George says pulling out I spit on your grave. The cover of the disc shows a girl who has clearly been through a rough situation, holding a knife. George begins to ramble on explaining how to turn the television on with the speakers, how to make the sound go through the house and how to turn on the cable. I have stopped listening and stare at the cover of I spit on your grave, in the background George Jr. is screaming “Cocksucker, Cocksucker!”

The tour continues. The next room on this floor is the laundry room; George goes through all the rules and regulations of doing laundry and with a smile adds, “That’s if you decide to live here.” I’m not listening but looking around at everything, something doesn’t seem right about George, about the house and about the bird. My Spidey sense is tingling again and I do what I do best, I try to ignore it.

The last room on this floor is the kitchen. There is a stove, refrigerator and a long counter top. “I work late and stop on my way home to pick up food.” George says opening the fridge, which is half empty with take out boxes.

“Where are the bedrooms?” I ask, “Next stop on our tour, in the basement!” George steps forward to the end of the kitchen and opens a door. I can see a flight of stairs.


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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