Etcetera (479 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.5 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Freakmagnet (View user info) at 2007-02-25 01:11:33 EST
...So the kid was always really skinny, he wore black all the time, you know the type. I suppose he fancied himself as a writer, the starving artist type. I guess he was starving; he never had the rent money.
I had talked to him a couple of times, what with me being his landlord and all. I liked him, I had always liked him. He was the excited type, with a certain desperation in his eyes. You could tell he was excited all the time; he sort of jumped when he walked. God forbid you asked him what he was working on. He was always ready with a fifteen minute monologue about his current project: symbolism, metaphor, allegories for the struggle of man. Crap I don't know anything about.
So I liked him, I like his type. He paid late on the rent, but I wasn't a stickler about it. I overcharged for the one room dump anyway, and with his being an artist, I got to consider myself a philanthropist.
I ate my lunches outside with the street vendors. They sold junk mostly, some food. I'd eat a few hotdogs on the bench and watch the people pass. I'd see the kid going from place to place; sometimes he'd stop and have a word with me.
About two weeks ago he took special interest in an old vendor. Really old, like mummy old. He had brown leathery skin, only a few teeth, and eyes that sparkled too much for their own good. He might have been a gypsy, or maybe some type of voodoo island man. He had a crazy accent that I couldn't ever quite place. I think I'd bought a toaster off of him somewhere along the way.
Like I said, the kid took a special interest in him. Whereas before I'd see the kid every few days, now I was seeing him everyday, always talking to that old man. They'd get to talking, and then the old man would get angry looking and send the poor kid away. He stomped off in a huff, you know those artsy types. Well it got to be so bad one that day I could hear the kid screaming. He was pointing his finger in the old man's face and waving his arms around like a maniac.
"...don't understand! I need it!"
"...you no need it, fool! Eet only trouble!"
"...tell me what...handle!"
I was about to pick myself up and find out what all that fuss was about when the kid whipped out a stack of bills thick enough to choke a horse, and slammed it on the table. I swear I had half a mind to go over and whoop that boy's ass. He was two month's late, that was my money! All that money had piqued my curiosity though, so I stayed on the bench and watched what happened next.
Well that old gypsy fellow gave that kid the coldest damn look I've ever seen. I didn't know if the man was going to kill him, hit him, or just stare and stare until the kid dropped dead.
"Fine fool, eet yo trouble now!"
The old man reached behind himself and lifted one of those ancient heavy typewriters onto the table. The kind where you've got to load the papers one at a time, you know the type. I could see there was something different about it, the way the sun played off its metal parts; you could swear it was glowing. The sight of it made my stomach tighten like I might be sick. It must have been those hotdogs, or a trick of the light, you know how things get to be when you're my age.
After that I didn't see the kid again for about a week. I didn't think anything of it. Nothing seemed wrong until I knocked on his door to see about my rent. You should've seen this kid when he opened that door. Cadaverous is the word to describe him, like the walking dead. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and if I had had the time I could've counted every rib in his chest. There was no way he'd had even a bite to eat since the last time I'd seen him. His eyes were sunk so far back in his skull I could barely tell they were there. They were wide with what looked like anticipation, or maybe it was fear. He stank like old sweat, but for some reason it reminded me of a morgue. I said,
"Boy what in God's name is the matter with you?"
"Nothing, I'm fine, I've just got all these ideas, so many ideas, and I've got to write them down. Like now, I have to write them all down."
"Well you should take a break and pay the damn rent, or at least shower. You look like hell."
"I will, I will, I promise I will. There's just so little time is all. I'll have the rent though, in a week. I'll have it, but I've got all these ideas to write down. I'll have it, but I have to go now."
Then he slammed the door in my face. That was the last the time I'd seen him before today. I gave him three days before I went and to tell him I was going to kick his butt to the curb if he didn't have my money by the end of the week. First thing I noticed was the stink, hot and sweet and sick. I couldn't help but think of this time a possum crawled up under the porch and let itself die. That's what it smelled like. I pounded on the door for a few minutes and then let myself in. That's when the stink hit me full blast. I swooned, and almost lost my lunch. Then I saw him, slouched face down over his desk, knuckles scraping the floor. His skin was gray and yellow and bloated from the rot. That wasn't the queerest part though. You should see the walls, and the desk! Hundreds, no thousands of papers stacked up a foot high, strewn across the floor, tacked up on the walls. You can't see the wallpaper. All of them filled top to bottom, back to front with words. It is certainly a sight to see.
I pulled the kid off of his chair and let him slump to the floor. I sat down and typed my name, I typed my address, I kept typing, I'm still typing. I've got all these ideas! You think this story was good? I've got a thousand! You just wait! I should call someone about this kid I should call the cops I should at least move his stinking body but there is no time! Ive got to get these ideas down and ive got so little time its supper time now but im not hungry ive got to prioritize ive got to keep writing got to get these ideas out and god this kid stinks...
User Reviews
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2007-02-26 00:23:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
A.C.R.O.N.Y.M
Submitted by Progr3ss (user info) at 2007-02-25 23:00:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
little short
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2007-02-25 22:39:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
well done, reminded my of stephen king for some reason.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-02-25 18:52:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2007-02-25 13:28:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought it was a perfect ending for this type of story.
So there.
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2007-02-25 12:36:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I like this idea. Not the end so much.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2007-02-25 12:32:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked this.
Shoot me.
-Dave
Submitted by mossimo1213 (user info) at 2007-02-25 11:57:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I thought it was pretty good. A little cliche though
Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2007-02-25 09:55:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
didn't like the ending much
Submitted by Freakmagnet (user info) at 2007-02-25 03:04:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
this got better ratings than my last sotry. i thopught it wa beter, im drukn ash ell man
Submitted by CM-102 (user info) at 2007-02-25 02:15:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought it was good.
Took the "Cursed object" type of story but managed to keep it original.
Submitted by eric_the_bread (user info) at 2007-02-25 01:33:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2007-02-25 01:26:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Meh.
But its weekend.