All the Nuts aren’t with The Pancake’s Part 2

I rarely see George for the first few weeks that I am living in his basement. He leaves the house very early in the morning just before I am getting home from the graveyard shift at Denny’s. 

My shift at Denny’s is 11pm -7am but I am required to be there an hour early.

After the end of my shift at 7am, I would stop at the house, run in, shower, grab up my books and head to my first class of the day at Sage College.

My first class three times a week, is a 3-hour English Lit class taught by a tiny little gnome like woman named Helen Staley.

Helen, who is in her mid to late 70s stands roughly at four foot nothing, wears her hair piled up on top of her head “Heidi style” and keeps her eye glasses on a chain around her neck. At her age, she wears the most stylish clothing I have ever seen.

After we take our seats Helen would enter a good five minutes late every class.  Standing at the front of the class she would spend the next 3 hours rambling on in a high-pitched voice pretty much about anything, except English Lit.

“I remember when I was in India and my husband was riding an elephant.” “One day he came across a dead body wearing a pith helmet.”

Then she would pause look at the ceiling as we collectively silently counted to ten in our heads. She would pause again, her jaw would become slack and then she would return to the present time dazed and confused.

“Did I say India?” she would screech in her high-pitched voice.

“I think it might have been Africa.” “Or was it when we ran away with the circus?” Then pausing to look at the ceiling. “Why was there a dead body at the circus?”

Helen would pause again, go far away in her head, we would silently count to ten again and then she would return, placing her glasses on the bridge of her nose as if there hadn’t been a serious lapse in time.

Helen teetered on her heel, spun to the blackboard and grabbed up a piece of chalk. “So when Samuel Taylor Colerige wrote the poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” pause, remove her glasses and look lovingly towards the window. Then in a booming voice recite: 

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, every where,

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.

Here a smile would cross her face as she re-heard the poem being spoke by her in her own head. Turning to the class she gasped.

“I remember, it wasn’t India, it was Egypt where he discovered the dead body in a pith helmet!” Helen would smile broadly but briefly before a frown would flicker across her face.

“Now why would I be riding an elephant in Egypt?” she would address the class.

I am constantly nodding off in her class because I am exhausted. Every time my head would drop forward I would wake myself up. Then I would stretch my neck as if I meant to do it.

“I love dancers!” Helen would exclaim looking at me. “Always stretching.”

Quickly my part time schedule at the college started to turn into a full time schedule. I mean what with all the reading, acting classes and meeting with other students I had to do, I had little time to sleep. I race home after school, grab a couple hours of sleep and then head off to my graveyard shift. If it were slow, I would do my homework sitting at the front counter.

By the time I would leave the house at 10pm for work, George was driving home slightly bombed from The Waterworks Pub, his favorite hangout.

Today after class, I skip out on my acting class. I plan on running home early to get a couple extra hours of sleep. I throw the car into park out in front of the house, run up the walk and open the front door.

Once inside the house, six Boston terrier puppies that I have never seen before run down the hallway at me in full speed. They jump and bark at me to greet me. One of the puppies grabs my pant leg as two more grab my bag and drag it down the hall. Several of the puppies begin to bark and fight over the bag.

 A minute later Bill wearing a bathrobe steps into the hallway. He pauses, throws his hands out to his sides.

“Isn’t this the craziest thing you have ever see?” he asks as the puppies fall over each other to get to him.

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.

All the Nuts aren’t with The Pancake’s Part 1

The weekend came and went. David and Adam helped me move. They got to see George's house but no one was there. George, Bill and Freddie had all gone somewhere together. My new keys would be hidden in a flowerpot around the side of the house.

David pulls up next to the curb and Adam and I step out. Adam and I walk around the side of the house to find the keys as David starts dragging all my things up the front walk to the door. I didn’t have much to move so it took David no time at all.

The flowerpot and the keys were easy to find. Right on the side of the house where George said they would be. “Easy and quick,” I said turning to Adam. “Come look at the pool.” I said grabbing Adam’s elbow and dragging him towards the back yard. We stumble up to the fence and look over. “Wow,” is Adam's reply at the sight of the pool. Strange though, the pool was on. Water was foaming at the top, while we could hear the pump working. Looking at each other and then back at the pool Adam said, “I thought you said they weren’t home.” without looking at me.

That’s what I thought.” I replied. “Maybe they are away for a little while?”  I asked

“Maybe,” Adam hissed, as if we were in a Horror Movie and we had just discovered the true secret of the house. “Maybe the house comes to life when someone gets hurt.” Adam whispered under his breath.

Adam and I had just watched Burnt Offerings with Karen Black. He was sure that the plot to kill me and steal my soul, was alive and well at the House of George. Or at least that’s what he kept telling me.

“I could use a little help!” David yells making us both jump. He is now standing behind us, clearly irritated. “I thought you left me to do all the work.”

Turn the key in the door and once were in the house we are completely alone……except for that fucking, swearing parrot. “Faggot’s! Faggot’s!” It screamed at us.

It was a quick and ferocious move. Not only from Joe’s house to The House of George but life started humming. There was a new fire in me. I felt that I needed a change. I felt that I needed to create a list of things that I needed to do. 1. I felt that I needed a car, 2. I needed to get a degree and 3. I had to change my life.

David helped me with getting the car. He also took me to The Sage College of Albany on new Scotland Avenue in Albany. I knew what I wanted to be. I was going to be an actor and get an acting degree. It was going to be part time, so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed. We applied, I got accepted, signed up for classes and purchased my materials. 

Then I moved my waiter shift at Denny’s to the graveyard shift.

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.

A New Start at the House of George Part 10

Joe was very sweet to me when I told him that I had been looking at apartments and planned on moving out this coming weekend. 

I was pretty excited when I got back to the house and wanted to tell everyone my news. Joe was of course in the basement and nobody else seemed to be around.

Cautiously, I headed into the basement. “Joe, are you here?” I yell from the landing. “Umfffffmmmmmmm!” I hear in response. 

“Joe?” I yell again. “Yes! I am. Sorry, in the back.” Joe yells. As I round the corner I immediately see Joe tied to a basement pillar, his pants are around his ankles and a ball gag hangs around his neck. Standing three feet from him in ass-less chaps is some rough trade looking kid with a leather military hat on his head.

I pretend I see nothing and plow right on. I tell Joe my news. “Wonderful!” he exclaims and he tells me “He has met George at the Waterworks Pub but knows very little about him.

“Oh where are my manners?” Joe asks me. “Geoff this is Patrick.” “Patrick this is Geoff.” The rough trade boy in the ass-less chaps extends his hand to me. “Pleasure.” I say grasping back firmly.

I climb out of the basement to find Adam sitting on the couch with his feet up. “I would have told you not to go down there.” He says not looking at me. “You weren’t around to warn me.” I still pretend that I saw nothing out of the ordinary in the basement.

“I was hiding in the bathroom,” Adam responds. “That kid gives me the creeps!” “If he had killed and eaten Joe in the basement, I wouldn't have been surprised.”

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.

A New Start at the House of George Part 9

Everything in my brain is telling me not to take the room, but when George asks me if I wanted to take it I answer with an enthusiastic “Yes!” 

“Good, Good,” George mumbles sliding one hand around my shoulder drawing me in closer to him.  We would look like two old friends to anyone who would see us like this on the street.

“So you’ll be moving in this weekend?” George asks walking me towards the staircase. “Sure, sure,” I respond as we climb onto the landing. George pauses, then stops and takes a step back down the stairs to turn out the lights in. I climb the stairs and pause to take one more look out the window at the swimming pool. I have it already planned that I will be spending most of my days lying by it.

Standing on the other side of the glass, getting ready to get into the pool is a guy in his early twenties. His hair is cut short, dark and it’s slightly wavy. He is wearing a pair of cut off blue jean shorts and a tank t-shirt with red stripes on it. On his upper lip sits a thin little moustache. He reaches down, grabs the bottom of his t-shirt and slides it over his head. Just as the t-shirt comes off, our eyes meet and he flashes me a dazzling smile. I can see a twinkle in his brown eyes as he turns around; he grabs the waist of his shorts and drops them to his ankles. Under his shorts, he is wearing nothing. He turns back over his shoulder, smiles at me and walks to the pool.

“You like the pool?” George asks as he steps behind me. I pause and swallow deeply. “Yes, yes I do.” I stammer.

From where I am standing the boy with the moustache comes into view. He is waist deep in the water, the sun reflecting off his smile.

“Ah!” Says George.  He begins to rap on the window. The boy in the pool turns to look around for the knocking sound. “That’s my boyfriend Freddie.” George squeals like a schoolgirl. The boy raises his hand and waves at George. The difference in their age is easily forty plus years.

George swings open the door to the backyard and leaves me standing in the dark stairway. “Wait right here, I just want to say hello! He literally runs through the door to get to Freddie.

Bill saunters down the steps from the kitchen a stalk of celery in one hand and his robe draped around his shoulders. “God, I hate that cunt.” Bill says crunching off a big section of the celery. “George?” I ask still looking out the window. “Well yes, him too!  But I really hate the new Mrs. George Thurgood the third!” Bill uses the end of the celery and raps it on the window to drive the point home. “He got all my furs, jewelry and my easy life. I hate him.”

Bill pauses and looks like he’s reflecting in the past. He then sighs “Just wait, there will be a new one in a couple of weeks.” With that said, Bill continues down the stairs into the basement. “See you this weekend.” He yells back over his shoulder without ever looking up.

“How does he know?” I ask myself.

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.