Old Milwaukie Talkie

I just walked in from having a smoke when the phone started to ring. I kicked my shoes off and ran for the phone; I was expecting a call from my boss, with my next assignment.

“Hello?” I asked picking up the phone.

“Are you satisfied with your life?” the voice answered

“Excuse me?”

“I asked if you were satisfied with you long distance service provider.”

“Oh sorry, yes I am satisfied. Thank you anyway.” I hung up.



          I set the phone down and grabbed the remote to turn the stereo on. The sound of southern rock filled the house as I closed my eyes. It was starting to rain outside and the sky was grey. It really was just one of those days. It was too early to start making supper, and I wasn’t really hungry anyway. I didn’t feel like watching TV or a movie either. I decided to the only thing I really could do right now, was to get drunk. I walked into the kitchen and uncorked the oldest bottle of wine I had. I poured myself a glass and went back to sit down. I slowly emptied the glass, and found myself starting to sing along more often. I went back for a 2nd glass, and 3rd then a 5th and then a 9th and then I just brought the bottle with me. I turned the stereo off deciding that these harsh words were gonna have some negative drunken impact. So I turned the TV on and flipped through the channels. With some illusion of grandeur I settled on cirque de soleil. As I watched the contortionists twist there bodies around I thought to myself, what is the point of watching this? How does this further me in any way at all? I grabbed the remote and thrust it at the TV as I turned it off to increase the dramatic effect. I quickly turned the stereo back on and put on the heaviest song I could think of. I walked to the kitchen, uncorked a bottle of wine and slipped the stovetop burner on. I threw open the fridge and took out a red onion, I also grabbed some eggs and milk before closing the door. I put them all down on the counter and grabbed a frying pan. I opened the pantry and grabbed the olive oil, garlic powder and onion powder. I opened the olive oil and poured some into the pan. I flipped the picture frame resting on the counter so it was facing me. The picture in the frame was one of my ex girlfriend. I never got completely over her. Every couple minutes as I prepared my food, I would look over and see her smiling back at me, and I would smile back and just keep on doing what I was doing. I cut the onion up to the beat of the music, and threw it into the pan to fry. I decided to cut some green peppers too. I mixed in a dash of the wine to add a nice flavor, that’s what she always did. After the veggies were done to my liking, I put them aside. I put in a bit more olive oil, and put in the eggs I had whisked together. I watched the eggs sizzle, added the veggies, and at just the right time I flipped it. After I was satisfied with it, I put it on a plate, turned off the burner, grabbed a fork and the picture frame and went back to sit down. I turned off the stereo in favor of a nice movie. I settled on our favorite movie.



          I woke up with the phone ringing and my head pounding. I jumped up and picked it up.

“Hello”

“Hey it’s Mr. Sodo. Sorry about not getting in contact with you yesterday, but I just got the confirming details about half an hour ago. It’s a new company, the house they want is at 2927 Valeur drive.”

“When do they want this done by?”

“They want the whole package in about 4 days.”

“Okay, I’ll come in and get the key tomorrow.”

“Great, I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.”



          I spent all day focusing on recovering from last nights drinking binge. I went to bed early, and got up early to go into work and get the key. Before I got into the car, I made sure to bring along my leather case, with all my instruments inside. When I got into Mr. Sodo’s office he was already there.

“Morning.”

“Morning boss”

“I just want to show you what you’re working with first.”

“They already have pictures?”

“Yeah, once you see them you’ll understand why they want you.”

I walked over to his desk and looked the photos over.

“Well, this should be fun.”

“Might want to go get started quickly.”

“You’re telling me.”



          I left the office and headed back to my car. As I drove to the location I lit up a cigarette. I was mulling over how I was going to do this. It was old, poorly kept, abandoned, on a hill, creepy as anything. This was gonna be worth my paycheck. Valeur road was long, wooded and abandoned. I’m fairly certain that there’s only one house on this road. I drove down the road until I found the house and sure enough there it was, up on a hill, dilapidated, chipped white paint job. There was no way I could make this house seem sellable. I parked the car in the driveway, opened the trunk and got out my bag. I unzipped it and brought out my camera. I emptied out the memory, so I could take as many pictures as needed to make this place seem suitable. I walked up the steps, and already I didn’t like this assignment. I felt so uneasy. I turned the door knob, and stepped inside. Everything changed at once as soon as the door closed behind me.



          I crumpled to the floor as a ringing sound erupted in my head. I couldn’t even hear myself scream. I writhed on the floor in complete and unmerciful pain. I rolled around; blinded by the immense pain when all at once, the pain and any memory of said pain disappeared. I opened my eyes and noticed I had rolled through the door way. I lay there gasping for breath unable to even contemplate what had just happened. I stood up, and like some kind of hallucination, I was in another body, and the house was furnished, and looked proper. I tried to go outside, but my body did not do what my will commanded it to. I walked around without knowing where I was going, or even trying to go anywhere. I went room to room, observing the patterns on the walls. Just as quickly as it happened, I was lying on the floor, just threw the doorway. I stood up, and looked around, everything looked the same aside from the state of disrepair from the…the what? Hallucination? I rubbed my eyes, as if that would dispel my memory of what just happened. I took out my camera from my holster, and walked the same path the body I was just in did. I took pictures of everything that body seemed to focus on. I felt like I was trying to write a story with my pictures.



          I walked up the stairs, and I saw a man. I went over to this man, and hugged him as he pushed me away though. He started to yell at me, and to swear at me. I started to cry, to explain to him what happened. I asked him to sit on the bed. But he just got angrier. He started to hit me. He punched me in the jaw. I was helpless. I felt his knuckles dig into my face, blow after blow. I was on the floor, and then he stopped. He called me pathetic, worthless, and useless.



          I looked up from my viewfinder. Did that just happen? I felt my jaw, to see if there was anything swollen. It felt okay, but moments ago it was exploding in pain. I had felt the pain. It WAS real. I slumped to the floor, and looked down the hallway to where the stairs were. I felt compelled to make my way there. To try and see what happened next, I took an angled picture down the hallway. I got up, and made my way to the stairs, as I walked down the hallway, everything started to shift. The floor warped, and I stumbled blindly forward, repeating history. I stopped walking. My thoughts were becoming so clear, yet obscure. I turned into the next room as quickly as possible. There on the wall opposing me was a big screen, or maybe it was just the wall itself. It was counting down…3, 2, and 1. The door behind me slammed shut, but I was not alarmed. In front of me, the screen started to play a slideshow. A slideshow about me. The picture, there right now, was my first kiss ever. As the pictures flashed by, I realized they were pictures of every single time I had ever kissed somebody. After one of the pictures, a message flashed on reading “Do you even remember their names?” I tried to think, I knew some of their names, but definitely not all of them. I sat down, back against the door. There was a blanket on the floor, I hadn’t seen it earlier. But I never really looked around all that much. I wrapped the blanket around me, and huddled underneath it. I sat there staring, not daring to blink as images of my kisses flashed, faster and faster in front of my eyes. I felt so dirty, so incomplete, like I was trying to fill some void.



          I got up from the floor, and as I sobbed I followed him down the stairs. I was so tired of the way he was treating me. He sat at the table and demanded I make him supper. I walked over to the pantry, and pulled out a large knife, I walked up behind him, and stabbed him in the neck. He threw himself to the floor, as his blood splashed onto the floor. He tried crawling away, but I kept stabbing him in the back as he screamed. Now he knew what it felt like to be helpless. To know pain at the hands of someone you love. I kept stabbing even after he stopped screaming.



          I blinked, rapidly. These visions just kept happening. It was starting to become just a happening, not even a bother. I noticed the clip show had switched focus. Maybe it had gone through all of my kisses and sexual conduct. Now, it was showing every single toke or drag or haul I’ve ever had. No, that wasn’t it, every now and then, a pill will show itself, or a tab, or a line. This was just about my drugs. My habits kept flashing by, one after another. I don’t even remember doing most of these…now even my drinks have been added into the mix. I just thought to myself, why this is happening. This can’t be real. This does not exist, unless it exists purely within my mind. A trippy adventure through my sub conscious. Or am I trapped in some kind of alternate reality? Where what you fear most exists. Be it within yourself or outside the world. As I spaced out, I realized the pictures had switched focus once again. They were focused on.



          I grabbed the knife still plunged in his back, and threw it into the sink. I was going to wash the blood off my hands, but I decided it seemed to fit on my hands. I walked upstairs with a fulfilled sense of discovery. I opened the closet in my room, and took out the pre-tied noose I had fashioned. I always knew I’d need it. I walked over to the banister and tied the end of it tightly, I had been practicing for a very long while, and I put the noose around my neck, and jumped over the railing. I watched my feet dangle as I slowly started to black out. Slow being the keyword. I could feel my lungs screaming.



          I coughed up blood onto the floor in front of me as I sat down. That was weird. I felt it, I felt myself die, being hung. I reached in my bag and took out a smoke, and lit it. As I inhaled the smoke I looked up, and saw a clip show, of every drag of a smoke I’ve ever had. The pictures flew past, ridiculously quickly, but this seemed to last forever. I looked at my watch, and of course it had stopped. But hours must have gone by. When the screen suddenly turned to static. A video started to play…it was me and my ex girlfriend. I remember this night. This was the night my parents went out of town, and she came over. We were both still in high school. We didn’t go far, but when we were done, we didn’t put our clothes back on, we lay there, cuddling, and I could feel her skin against mine, her chest puffing in and out with every breath. I could feel all of this as I watched the screen. I stood up, and walked to the screen. I dropped the blanket along the way. I touched the screen, brushing her face; I remember this day so perfectly. It was my favorite memory of us. She moved herself so her lips were by my ear. It was barely audible, but I heard her tell me she loves me. That she always will.

“You fucking liar!” I screamed at the screen.

I punched the screen as hard as I could, but nothing happened. I punched it again, and again. Trying to break the screen, to end this image. I threw my fists blindly against the wall.

“The television screen is streaked with the blood smeared from your knuckles as you were trying to punch it out, but you underestimated its strength, or maybe you just weren’t trying hard enough.” The wall beside me stated

I looked at the wall, and although I could not see it physically speaking, I knew it was talking to me.

“Your perception of strength is only outweighed by that of my will, and the will of inner strength.” I exclaimed

“My perception is just that, it is no way a physical rendition of my mental attributions of my qualities.” he explained

“So you perceive that I have entered a physically futile battle against the television screen, but I remain the mental champion versus that pit of limitless information and disinformation. It is not the content that should be clarified, but the viewer who self clarifies.” I snapped

“So in either case, the question remains, what have you learned from your futile battle?” he asked

I stood for a moment pondering this question.

“I have learned who I am.” I answered.

“Who are you?” he prompted

“Hello my first name is distance, and I really don’t care if I never wake up again.” I whispered.

I grabbed 4 cigarettes, and lit them all, I stuck one in my lips, I threw one in a corner, one on the blanket, and one at the wall. By the time I had finished my cigarette, the room around me was starting to burn.