The rapping on the wall continues as the dogs came plopping
down the stairs one at a time to follow me.
“Do you need help?” I yell into the crack of George’s
bedroom door. “Rap, Rap” is the reply back to me.
The puppies continue bouncing down the stairs and gather at
my feet. I grab the handle of George’s door and try to move the knob back and
forth. The door is clearly locked.
“The door is locked,” I scream back into the crack of the
bedroom door.
“Rap, Rap,” is the reply.
At the top of the basement stairs Bill appears wearing his
floor length robe. He is wearing it off his shoulders and his elbows hold it
up. “Girrrrrrrrrl,” he purrs placing the back of his hand to his head as if
nursing a hangover. In the other hand he holds an unlit cigarette.
“Sugar, Why are you yelling?”
“I think someone is locked in George’s room.”
Bill looks at me as if I had told him that the sun rises and
sets daily.
“And?” Bill asks raising his cigarette to his mouth. With
the other hand he begins to fish in his pocket clearly looking for a lighter. He
finds the lighter, pulls it out, and holds it in the air.
“George doesn’t want anyone in his room.”
Bill states matter of factly before lighting his cigarette.
Bill takes a long dramatic drag on his cigarette, pauses, and
then slowly blows the smoke into the air. Looking directly at me, he says,
“George doesn’t want anyone in his room.”
“Clearly there is someone in his room.” I remind Bill. “I am
trying to help them get out.”
“I wouldn’t,” Bill says as he picks a piece of tobacco off
his tongue
“But someone is in there!” I shout at Bill
“Let me be clearer.” Bill pauses, taking another drag from
his cigarette.
“George doesn’t want anyone in his room, or freed from his
room.”
Bill purrs once again and then minces down the stairs
towards me. He looks like a broken Norma Desmond doll to me. He is just missing
the head wrap.
Once he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the puppies begin
jumping and barking around his feet trying to get his attention.
“Sugar Pop, It’s a game.” Bill says speaking in a whisper
five inches from my face. “A game that he used to play for free that he now
pays for.”
“Get it?” He asks as he flicks the ash off his cigarette.
“Sugar, you’re going to get along a lot better if you just
mind your own business.”
Bill pushes past me but pauses midway in front of the wall
to George’s room.
“If you don’t be quiet you will get beaten.” Bill screams to
whoever is on the other side of the wall. “Not that you’ll mind,” he finishes
whispering under his breath.
Bill walks to the toilet, opens the front of his robe and
urinates into the bowl. The reflection in the mirror shows me that Bill is
wearing nothing but a t-shirt under his robe.
“You’ll get used to it.” Bill says shaking his dick as he
looks back over his shoulder at me.
to be continued…
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to
his writing "A Day in the Life/Down the Rabbit Hole". It cannot be
reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
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