LOU
By Bret Mitchem
It's 1:17 pm. The fake mailman is right on time. He drops the fake mail into my mailbox. Then walks down the stairs left foot first. That must be the signal. Left foot first means that I am home. The lady walking her dog across the street looks to the mailman, smiles and waves. That is her return signal to him. She continues to the end of the block, pauses briefly, then nods to the driver of a car heading towards her. The car drives past my house, but slowly. The driver never looks my way. That means the car has on-board cameras. I quickly shut my peephole and lurch away from the door. Was I quick enough? Were they able to photograph me? It matters not. They must have millions of photos of me by now.
You must think I'm crazy. But I assure you that I am all too sane. But then again, crazy people never know they are crazy. Right? It is a conundrum. However, I know for a fact that they are watching me. Keeping tabs on my every move. Hell, probably my every word. At least once a day I scour my entire house for bugs. They must have planted listening devices at some point. I have never found one. But that does not mean they are not here. I threw away my telephone ten years ago. Far too easy to listen in on those damn things. I put my TV out on the curb six years ago. Can never be too careful.
My house is dark and barren. Long ago I covered all of the windows with cardboard and black trash bags. No light ever gets in here. Except when I open the door to come or go. But now that I think about it, I can't remember the last time I left the house. I look around the room, looking for a place to start my search for bugs. The only objects left in here are one solitary chair, a table and lamp, and a painting of a seascape on the wall. I have already searched the room this morning. So instead I decide to go ahead down to The Sanctuary.
That's what I call my secret lair. The Sanctuary. A very fitting name for indeed that's what it is. The one place on this planet that I can go and hide and actually be safe. Walking into the bedroom, I open the closet door, hit the hidden lock switch on the baseboard and lift up the false floor. I shut the closet door behind me and climb down the wooden staircase. After shutting and locking the trap door, I look around this room. It is very different than the upstairs. This room is bright and cheery. The walls and ceiling have wood paneling. The floor is covered in a nice green shag carpet. It kind of looks like grass, but it's better because I don't have to mow it.
Even though there are of course no windows, there are a few nice ornate lamps that provide more than enough light. Also in the room is a comfortable recliner, a desk, my record player and small record collection. And my pet Iguana "Louis." Louie The Lizard I call him sometimes. He is a good old chap. I've had him ever since I was 19 years old.
There are other rooms. Nine total so far. I dug out the first room almost 15 years ago. I was content with that for a couple of years. But the more time I started spending down here, the more I wanted a bigger area. So I dug out another room. Then another. Before I knew it, I had my living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom all down here. But still I kept on digging out rooms. I have no use for the other four rooms. But I am still thinking about adding a fifth room. Maybe I will make a small running track through them. Or maybe a small swimming pool. Louie would like that. He likes to swim.
I walk over and select a Charles Mingus record and put it on the turntable. I flick the power switch and drop the needle on the record. Glorious music fills the space and right away puts me in a better mood. Grinning as I sit down and recline backwards. Propping my feet up on the rest. I shut my eyes and begin to relax. The music sweeps me away. Away from all the worries. Away from all the cares in the world.
"Did they see you today?"
The voice startles me. I look around almost expecting to see someone standing in the room. No one is there.
"I said, did they see you today?"
I relax back into my chair.
"No Lou. They didn't." I say.
"You don't seem very sure about that!"
"Well, I don't think they did. I was only looking out the peephole." I say, a little defensively.
"You are growing careless. How many times did you search the upstairs today?"
"Just once. But I didn't find anything. I never find anything!" I protest.
"Tsk tsk. You really are getting careless. It's only a matter of time now you know."
"I will go back up and search again later. I just want to rest right now please."
"Fine, fine. Go ahead. Have a nice nap. I will wake you up when they come. Just go ahead and sleep until they come kicking down the door. And drag you away to God knows where and do God knows what to you! Have a nice nap!"
"Okay, okay. I will go check... again." I say as I climb out of my chair.
"You know, sometimes I wish I would have got a dog!" I mumble as I start to climb the ladder.
- - -
Bret Mitchem is a starving artist, musician and writer. He has no qualifications for any of these, but never lets that deter him.
By Bret Mitchem
It's 1:17 pm. The fake mailman is right on time. He drops the fake mail into my mailbox. Then walks down the stairs left foot first. That must be the signal. Left foot first means that I am home. The lady walking her dog across the street looks to the mailman, smiles and waves. That is her return signal to him. She continues to the end of the block, pauses briefly, then nods to the driver of a car heading towards her. The car drives past my house, but slowly. The driver never looks my way. That means the car has on-board cameras. I quickly shut my peephole and lurch away from the door. Was I quick enough? Were they able to photograph me? It matters not. They must have millions of photos of me by now.
You must think I'm crazy. But I assure you that I am all too sane. But then again, crazy people never know they are crazy. Right? It is a conundrum. However, I know for a fact that they are watching me. Keeping tabs on my every move. Hell, probably my every word. At least once a day I scour my entire house for bugs. They must have planted listening devices at some point. I have never found one. But that does not mean they are not here. I threw away my telephone ten years ago. Far too easy to listen in on those damn things. I put my TV out on the curb six years ago. Can never be too careful.
My house is dark and barren. Long ago I covered all of the windows with cardboard and black trash bags. No light ever gets in here. Except when I open the door to come or go. But now that I think about it, I can't remember the last time I left the house. I look around the room, looking for a place to start my search for bugs. The only objects left in here are one solitary chair, a table and lamp, and a painting of a seascape on the wall. I have already searched the room this morning. So instead I decide to go ahead down to The Sanctuary.
That's what I call my secret lair. The Sanctuary. A very fitting name for indeed that's what it is. The one place on this planet that I can go and hide and actually be safe. Walking into the bedroom, I open the closet door, hit the hidden lock switch on the baseboard and lift up the false floor. I shut the closet door behind me and climb down the wooden staircase. After shutting and locking the trap door, I look around this room. It is very different than the upstairs. This room is bright and cheery. The walls and ceiling have wood paneling. The floor is covered in a nice green shag carpet. It kind of looks like grass, but it's better because I don't have to mow it.
Even though there are of course no windows, there are a few nice ornate lamps that provide more than enough light. Also in the room is a comfortable recliner, a desk, my record player and small record collection. And my pet Iguana "Louis." Louie The Lizard I call him sometimes. He is a good old chap. I've had him ever since I was 19 years old.
There are other rooms. Nine total so far. I dug out the first room almost 15 years ago. I was content with that for a couple of years. But the more time I started spending down here, the more I wanted a bigger area. So I dug out another room. Then another. Before I knew it, I had my living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom all down here. But still I kept on digging out rooms. I have no use for the other four rooms. But I am still thinking about adding a fifth room. Maybe I will make a small running track through them. Or maybe a small swimming pool. Louie would like that. He likes to swim.
I walk over and select a Charles Mingus record and put it on the turntable. I flick the power switch and drop the needle on the record. Glorious music fills the space and right away puts me in a better mood. Grinning as I sit down and recline backwards. Propping my feet up on the rest. I shut my eyes and begin to relax. The music sweeps me away. Away from all the worries. Away from all the cares in the world.
"Did they see you today?"
The voice startles me. I look around almost expecting to see someone standing in the room. No one is there.
"I said, did they see you today?"
I relax back into my chair.
"No Lou. They didn't." I say.
"You don't seem very sure about that!"
"Well, I don't think they did. I was only looking out the peephole." I say, a little defensively.
"You are growing careless. How many times did you search the upstairs today?"
"Just once. But I didn't find anything. I never find anything!" I protest.
"Tsk tsk. You really are getting careless. It's only a matter of time now you know."
"I will go back up and search again later. I just want to rest right now please."
"Fine, fine. Go ahead. Have a nice nap. I will wake you up when they come. Just go ahead and sleep until they come kicking down the door. And drag you away to God knows where and do God knows what to you! Have a nice nap!"
"Okay, okay. I will go check... again." I say as I climb out of my chair.
"You know, sometimes I wish I would have got a dog!" I mumble as I start to climb the ladder.
- - -
Bret Mitchem is a starving artist, musician and writer. He has no qualifications for any of these, but never lets that deter him.
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