I am sure that I will end up holding a torch in the smoky caves of hell.
Listen:
A while back, I became savagely attracted to my neighbor’s silhouette. First time I saw her I came home after a long day of labor. I poured myself a pleasant glass of Jack on the rocks and kicked back on the porch. I lit up a Marlboro and popped in Appetite For Destruction.
I began to daze into a song when I noticed a feminine physique in the building to my right. She was opening a window, and as I watched her walk away, I licked my lips and started to shake. I dropped my glass of Jack and lit up another cigarette—I had to stop my body from shaking.
I tried ignoring the view, but I couldn’t resist. I looked over and saw her silhouette dancing. I could see her striped pajama bottoms—just barely—through the dusty translucent window. They complimented her body in such a lustful way. I felt hunger I hadn’t felt before. I was so f*****g hungry. I fantasized about some very sick and perverted scenarios.
I couldn’t help but think, what is wrong with me? I have never felt a sexual urge so strong in my life. I just couldn’t resist that beautiful feeling I got when I watched her. Though I couldn’t see her perfectly, my imagination had no problem filling in the blanks—plus I was planning on buying binoculars.
I bought the binoculars, but somehow the curtains always blocked her face. She seemed to live alone, and I never saw her outside of my dwelling. I would just sit there for hours, admiring how perfect of a creature she was. The urge grew until I could no longer take it.
I used to love her…
But one day, she wasn’t there. I continued to look every day for six years. I observed numerous people moving in and out, with construction in between. Then for a year straight, the place was totally vacant. I figured I should give up, but somehow, hope never left me.
And then one day I got a call. A woman said I was recommended by a neighbor to fix her plumbing. I said of course and asked where. Building 22, apartment 303. Could it be? Sure enough… it was the room of the dancing silhouette.
Perhaps the silhouette I fell in love with was renting out the apartment. I felt like I had solved the half-a-decade-old riddle. I chugged a glass of Jack, grabbed my tool bucket, and headed towards building 22. I looked on the directory for the apartment and discovered the owner’s name was Hilda Good. I pressed call on the directory and was buzzed in.
I decided to take the stairs, I wanted to break a little sweat, that way she might be all hot and bothered by my manliness. My heart was pounding out of my chest. Thump Thump. Thump Thump. I swallowed my fear with a big gulp and knocked on the door. I was staring at the ground, and holy hell did I feel horny.
The door opened, and I saw striped pajama bottoms around the ankles of bare feet. I instantly became hard. I slowly scanned up to her thighs which were plump and juicy. They were saying “grab a fork and a knife.” I could see the outline of her underwear. I continued up to her voluptuous hips, her belly, and then her beautiful breasts. Her n*****s were hard. I was tingling.
I finally made my way up to her neck, she was wearing some sort of medallion. But then I got to her chin…
She had a mole with hair on it. I hesitated but continued—her lips were cracked and full of puss gushing whiteheads. She had hairs coming out of her dirty mammoth nose, which was topped with blackheads. Her hair was long and black—the hairline started in the middle of her head. Her eyes were dull and black and much too wide. She was hideous and looked like a witch.
Her breath stunk of onions and old beef. The teeth she had left were green, brown, black, and cracked. I could no longer see this body in a sexual manner. I was afraid of what the skin might look like. But as hideous as she was, she was still a human, so I decided to take a look.
She claimed that the sink wasn’t running, but it was running just fine. Not to mention, I saw fresh soap suds. I figured she must be retarded or something, so I just smiled, pretended to fix something, and said goodbye.
“Thank you,” she said, “I must give you something in return.”
I told her that it was not an issue. “That’s what neighbors are for.” Or something like that. But she insisted.
“Here take this.” She took off her medallion and leaned in to put it on my neck. I felt her breasts pushing up against me. She looked down at them, and began laughing, and pushing them on me. “You are a silly boy. This medallion will bring you much joy.”
The medallion was literally just a piece of oxidized copper. Nothing on it. When I got to my building, I threw it in the dumpster along with the binoculars. I thought, I guess you never really know your neighbors in a place like this. That was weird. But the weird had only just begun.
***
After a long day at work, I decided to check the mail before going upstairs to crash out for the night. I was flipping through my mail—which was mostly junk—when I heard a light tapping coming from the lobby. It sounded like a bird pecking at the glass door. But I soon discovered it to be a creepy old man.
When I say creepy, I mean something you would see out of a horror movie. The setting was horror perfect. It was about five o’clock, but the skies were gray, so it seemed much later. The old man was long and lanky. He looked like a tall skeleton wearing a leather tuxedo and a top hat.
I figured he must have been someone’s great-grandfather or something, so I opened the door. He smiled—his teeth looked even older than him—and said to me, “I believe this is yours.” He was holding the medallion. “Wouldn’t want this getting lost now, would we?”
I mumbled, “Thank you.” But of course, I felt a shock molesting my body.
He took off his hat, held it in the air, bent his knee, nodded, and said: “Good day sir.” He swiftly spun around and walked away. I hadn’t closed the door yet, because I was still in shock. He was spinning a closed umbrella on his index finger, as the rain poured down him, whistling “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head.”
Once I got upstairs, I had to reflect on what just happened. I am a realist, so I figured this must be some creepy coincidence. Maybe he saw me throw it away? That was the only sane answer I could think of. I was stumped, so for the thrill of it, I googled how to clean off the green oxidation. It was just plain copper that smelt like vinegar and trash. So what the hell was going on?
Six glasses of Jack, and I finally accepted the reality of those days. I came to the conclusion that the old man saw me throw it out, and he must have figured I did it by accident. I got into bed, and began to doze off…
Raindrops are falling on my head
And just like the guy whose feet
Are too big for his BED!
I was awoken by someone screaming BED! The rain was pouring down, and I could hear it clinking on the metal of my porch. The wind was shaking my shutters. I stepped out onto the porch to check out the rain, but then I began to hear someone singing again:
Raindrops are falling on my head
And just like the guy whose feet
Are too big for his bed
Nothing seems to fit
Those raindrops
Are falling on my head
They keep falling.
I looked over onto an empty field, where the pool and rec center was supposed to be. The man of bones was looking straight up at me, and as he was singing, he smiled and waved and tilted his hat. I felt like this must be some kind of nightmare, but I knew I was awake. You always know when you’re awake. But then he disappeared into thin air. In a blink of an eye, the pool and rec center was back. I passed out right there.
I woke up with my head bleeding, and while I was cradling my wound, I began to hear a whispering thought. It was the old skeleton man’s voice, and I began to picture him in a room. He was laying on a bed, which was much too small, and the room was spinning around him. There were nurses and doctors with bloody scalpels, and they seemed angry.
He was laughing but crying, crying but laughing, staring straight up at the ceiling. His skin began to slide off his body. I could see his tendons and muscles wrapped around his bones, which were infested with bugs. He continued to laugh, and cry. He then looked me directly in the eye of my mind, and words were forced into my thoughts.
This is your body as a dead corpse.
These thoughts became an obsession.
Maggots and worms eat your brains after your body is put in the soil. Maggots and worms eat your brains after your body is put in the soil.
I could feel an infestation of larva crawling in my head. They were speaking to me.
The earth takes you back. It takes you back.
When I would try to think of something else, they got even stronger.
But your soul is sent somewhere else.
I begged and pleaded with myself.
Why are you doing this to me? Please stop!
Your soul is barren.
Please, why are you doing this to me?
You don’t remember? You are already rotting.
What do you mean? Please tell me! Make it stop!
Think back. Think back.
Somehow this old man became me, and I was in that bed, and I knew something. I remembered something…
***
I am sure that I will end up holding a torch in the smoky caves of hell.
