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Sunday, May 4, 2014

All the Nuts aren’t with The Pancake’s Part 20

I slide behind the wheel of my car. I don’t know how much time I will have before George will be pulling up in front of the house. I also hope that Chris won’t wake up and wonder, “What the fuck is going on?” I have a lot riding on this.

I pull out onto Central Avenue take a quick left and another quick left. I am around the block from the house and unless George has a reason to come through this neighborhood, I should be safe and unseen. I can’t see the house from where I am so I pull up in front of a stranger’s house, turn off the car and light another cigarette.

I look at my watch and wait twenty minutes.

Three cigarettes later, twenty minutes has slowly passed. I place the key back into the ignition and the engine sputters and jumps to life. Thank go, I am not staging a bank robbery and have to rely on my car to make a getaway.

I pull the car back onto Central Avenue and head the two blocks. From this direction I can see the house before I have to signal to turn. If George is home, I will immediately see his car, if not I will drive by.

As I approach the end of the block, I see a glorious site, George is home, his car is sitting outside in the front of the house. I pull up across the street and shut off my car. It coughs again and jumps a little before turning off. I open the driver’s side door and step out onto the street.

I slam the door shut. “Honey I’m home!” I want to yell out as I pass in front of George’s car. A quick touch to the hood tells me that George hasn’t been here that long. I walk around the front and step onto the sidewalk, that’s when a pile of clothing comes flying out the front. Then I hear George’s voice.

“Pick up your fucking shit and get the fuck out of my house!”

Then some shoes fly out, a mug shatters on the stoop and then Chris fly’s out. He has no shirt on, no shoes, just socks and is buckling his pants. I pause on the sidewalk as George steps onto the stoop.

Chris scrambles to stand. He grasps his waistband in his hand. George see’s me standing there. “Do you know what this stupid fuck did to our house?” he asks me then sticks one finger out in Chris’ direction. Realizing that George has called it “our” house suddenly means to me, that my plan has succeeded probably better than I have ever imagined.

“I didn’t do anything,” Chris screams and makes a run for the front door. He quickly passes by George who turns and chases him in. I walk up the stoop and slowly walk through the front door. “Oh my god,” I say looking around slowly. “What happened?”

I can hear that George and Chris are somewhere else in the house. I hear furniture crashing and the two of them screaming at each other. I walk over to the overturned recliner and set it upright. Clearly George flipped his little rat ass out of it and onto the floor.

“Oh my,” I say as I reach over to pick up an empty booze bottle. “This house is saturated with booze!”

I’m sure that no one can hear me but you never know.

I slowly walk into the hallway. The crashing and screaming is coming from downstairs. I lean my head into the laundry room and look at the dogs in their cage. “Just a couple more minutes.” I loudly whisper.


I walk through the kitchen and head towards the basement. George is on the phone to the police, Chris is screaming.

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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