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Nov. 16th, 2004 02:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
benchiladaEnjoy.
I'll try to write another couple of thousand words for my next installment.
---
You know that old expression about not shitting where you eat? It’s a really good. Not just because it may get in your food, but also because you have to clean it up.
I’d brought out my whole bucket of cleaning supplies for this job, as it was a bit of a mess. I’m usually not so discerning, but this was where I lived, you know?. Alternating between hydrogen peroxide and Murphy’s Oil soap seemed to be doing the trick, so I was happy.
My cell phone rang its special ring, and as I stood up to answer it I accidentally stepped on a canister of Red Devil lye, shooting the lid off and spilling little white crystals across the area I’d been working on. I’m only not clumsy when I’m doing my real work. I flipped open the phone, watching the floor as it began to smoke.
“Hey, boss.”
“Hey, Jack. Am I interrupting anything?”
“No, I’m just trying to clean up this morning’s mess,” I remembered that I never drank the coffee I made. I wondered if it was still warm.
“Yes, I heard about your little incident. Where’s the body at right now?”
“I put him in the guest bedroom.”
“What if you have a guest?”
“Well, I’ll tell them I can’t have a guest ‘cause I’ve already got one.”
“Naturally. I’ve got a cleanup crew on its way over to pick up the body. And they clean up any residual stains, too, Jack.”
“I know. I just feel guilty if I leave a big mess, and then they take a while to get here, and by the time they do it’s all dried up.” I stole another glance at the stain, which seemed to be gone, along with all of the varnish, some of the stain, and a little bit of wood. The smell was getting kind of very strong. Marco decided to run off and hide under the bed.
“Jack, don’t worry about the stains this time, we’re going to burn the place tonight anyway.”
“Jeri, we must have a bad connection, because I could swear you just told me that you were going to burn down my condominium. My gorgeous condominium. The one that I was on a waiting list for FOUR YEARS to grab after a vacancy.”
“Oh, right, that’s definitely the one.”
“Would it be rude of me to ask why?”
“It’s quite clear that they – and we’re working on figuring out who ‘they’ are – know where you live now, so it’s about time for you to relocate. For health reasons. Besides, we own the building, insurance will cover it.”
“Okay, see, this is so not fair.”
“I thought you were all Zen about your worldly possessions, Jack,” she mocked, “You know, be here now, and the things you own all serve to tie you too much to the physical world, and so on.”
“Well, yeah, naturally,” I tried to recover, “but that doesn’t mean that I can’t really, really like any of the stuff I have, does it?”
“I’m not sure, Jack,” she said, clearly stifling a giggle, “since I never bought into your non-being bullshit anyway.”
“You wound me, boss,” I sighed dramatically. “So, how long have I got to move my stuff?"
“Explain this ‘move my stuff out,’ to me,”
“Aw, DAMN it. You’re going to burn it all, aren’t you?”
“Well, it won’t look very accidental if there’s an Allied van in front of it all afternoon, will it?”
“What about Marcus?”
“You’ll have to slot him before you go.”
“What?” I shouted.
“Just kidding. Put him in a carrier, fill a duffelbag with things you ‘really, really like,’ and get out. You’ve got,” she paused and pretended that she was only just now deciding, “let’s say thirty minutes. Meet me at the office by eight tonight.”
“At which point I will kill you. More than once.”
“Ah, but then you’ll never get in my pants.”
“Damn you and your logic.”
“Goodbye, Jack.”
I looked over at what was now a smoking hole into the basement, still pluming toxic gases, and sighed. I grabbed my new bottle of whiskey, Marco, and a dufflebag.
I put the first two into the third, left the zipper open so he could stick his head out, and laughed at the fact that I would not give a fuck about whether or not my door worked after all.
---
benjamin sTone
Urbana, Illinois
2:33pm, November 16th, 2004
CURRENT MUSIC: "Into the Deep," -- Kula Shaker
LAST BOOK I READ A PAGE OF: "The Man in the High Castle," -- Phillip K. Dick
I'll try to write another couple of thousand words for my next installment.
---
You know that old expression about not shitting where you eat? It’s a really good. Not just because it may get in your food, but also because you have to clean it up.
I’d brought out my whole bucket of cleaning supplies for this job, as it was a bit of a mess. I’m usually not so discerning, but this was where I lived, you know?. Alternating between hydrogen peroxide and Murphy’s Oil soap seemed to be doing the trick, so I was happy.
My cell phone rang its special ring, and as I stood up to answer it I accidentally stepped on a canister of Red Devil lye, shooting the lid off and spilling little white crystals across the area I’d been working on. I’m only not clumsy when I’m doing my real work. I flipped open the phone, watching the floor as it began to smoke.
“Hey, boss.”
“Hey, Jack. Am I interrupting anything?”
“No, I’m just trying to clean up this morning’s mess,” I remembered that I never drank the coffee I made. I wondered if it was still warm.
“Yes, I heard about your little incident. Where’s the body at right now?”
“I put him in the guest bedroom.”
“What if you have a guest?”
“Well, I’ll tell them I can’t have a guest ‘cause I’ve already got one.”
“Naturally. I’ve got a cleanup crew on its way over to pick up the body. And they clean up any residual stains, too, Jack.”
“I know. I just feel guilty if I leave a big mess, and then they take a while to get here, and by the time they do it’s all dried up.” I stole another glance at the stain, which seemed to be gone, along with all of the varnish, some of the stain, and a little bit of wood. The smell was getting kind of very strong. Marco decided to run off and hide under the bed.
“Jack, don’t worry about the stains this time, we’re going to burn the place tonight anyway.”
“Jeri, we must have a bad connection, because I could swear you just told me that you were going to burn down my condominium. My gorgeous condominium. The one that I was on a waiting list for FOUR YEARS to grab after a vacancy.”
“Oh, right, that’s definitely the one.”
“Would it be rude of me to ask why?”
“It’s quite clear that they – and we’re working on figuring out who ‘they’ are – know where you live now, so it’s about time for you to relocate. For health reasons. Besides, we own the building, insurance will cover it.”
“Okay, see, this is so not fair.”
“I thought you were all Zen about your worldly possessions, Jack,” she mocked, “You know, be here now, and the things you own all serve to tie you too much to the physical world, and so on.”
“Well, yeah, naturally,” I tried to recover, “but that doesn’t mean that I can’t really, really like any of the stuff I have, does it?”
“I’m not sure, Jack,” she said, clearly stifling a giggle, “since I never bought into your non-being bullshit anyway.”
“You wound me, boss,” I sighed dramatically. “So, how long have I got to move my stuff?"
“Explain this ‘move my stuff out,’ to me,”
“Aw, DAMN it. You’re going to burn it all, aren’t you?”
“Well, it won’t look very accidental if there’s an Allied van in front of it all afternoon, will it?”
“What about Marcus?”
“You’ll have to slot him before you go.”
“What?” I shouted.
“Just kidding. Put him in a carrier, fill a duffelbag with things you ‘really, really like,’ and get out. You’ve got,” she paused and pretended that she was only just now deciding, “let’s say thirty minutes. Meet me at the office by eight tonight.”
“At which point I will kill you. More than once.”
“Ah, but then you’ll never get in my pants.”
“Damn you and your logic.”
“Goodbye, Jack.”
I looked over at what was now a smoking hole into the basement, still pluming toxic gases, and sighed. I grabbed my new bottle of whiskey, Marco, and a dufflebag.
I put the first two into the third, left the zipper open so he could stick his head out, and laughed at the fact that I would not give a fuck about whether or not my door worked after all.
---
benjamin sTone
Urbana, Illinois
2:33pm, November 16th, 2004
CURRENT MUSIC: "Into the Deep," -- Kula Shaker
LAST BOOK I READ A PAGE OF: "The Man in the High Castle," -- Phillip K. Dick
