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Sunday, November 2, 2014

Getting out of town fast. The move to Boston. Chapter 2

I  called Mark and told him what was going on in Albany.
"I need to get out, things don't look that good here."

Mark chuckled as I explained everything. I told Mark that my fear was that someone was going to end up dead, or in jail. My fear was that it was going to be me.

"Let me ask around." Mark replied "Maybe Priscilla knows someone looking for a roommate."

Saying goodbye, I reluctantly hung up the phone but not before I heard a "click." Someone was listening in to my call and had hung up the receiver before I did.

There were several phones in the house and George had one in his room. Could it have been him?

I patiently waited for several days to hear back from Mark. I kept my plans of running away a secret but George was back to his old tricks. A new junkie twink, that he found on the street was moving into the back room right next to mine. The first day, I found him wandering around in my room. It's hard to keep anyone out when you don't have a door.

"What are you doing? " I asked watching him rummage through my dresser.

He froze and begin to close the drawer in slow motion as if I didn't exist.

"Oh, I thought this was my room." He responded slowly looking around.

He took three steps forward.

"So, you like Madonna?" he asked as he took his finger and put it on my poster. But not just anywhere on my poster, he began to poke her in the face and giggle.

I could feel my blood begin to boil. My face began to become flush.

I gagged. There was a strong unwashed smell emanating from him.

"I do," I stammered.

" And you like Rob Lowe and socks and shoes and lamps?" He asked turning slowly towards me.

I knew this one was going to get tossed out the front door. It was just a matter of time.

"Can I help you back to your room?" I asked catching his elbow.

"Loosely Goosey," he said pulling his elbow out of my hand.

He staggered towards me. I gagged, the smell of armpits and vomit clung to him.

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, then wiping it on the front of his pants. He leaned in close to me.

"You better be nice to me." He said

"Or what?" I asked already planning his demise.


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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