The Inflatable Saviour (part five--final part)
grooveamatic
Posts: 1,374
Alfred was silent, studying the tips of his shoes. Glue, he thought, rhymes with a lot of other words.
“ Al, are you going to be the glue for me?”
“ As long as I don’t get the flu, Barry.”
Alfred rose from the big chair and sulked toward the door. His shoulders felt as low as his belly-button; he couldn’t fathom how to get them back where they belonged.
“ Oh, and Alfred?”
Alfred stopped without turning.
“ Don’t be late again.”
Once settled back in his office, Alfred Monshocky steadied himself at his desk to begin looking over the numbers for that day, what he would need to know before any field agent called in.
“ What’s wrong?” he said after he had booted up his computer. His eyes couldn’t focus; they had gone teary. Taking a moment to wipe his eyes, he found them wet at the corners, with some moisture stuck in the lashes. Once he removed that, he saw the computer screen just fine.
Before he could focus on the numbers, though, his phone rang.
“ Statistics,” Alfred said.
“ Danny? I thought you got canned this morning?”
“ He did. This is Alfred. What do you need?”
“ Al? Really? You sound just like Danny.”
“ Do I?”
“ Say ‘fuckers’ for me.”
“ I don’t usually curse.”
“ That a fact?”
“ How can I help you? Do you need gestion or temporation?”
“ Come on, neuter, say ‘fuckers’ for me, just once.”
Alfred hung the phone up and walked completely out of the building. Then he drove all the way home.
Miss Garble in his driveway. She gestured wildly at his car as he pulled in. Alfred couldn’t make out exactly what kind of gesturing she was performing. “ It’s elaborate,” he said to himself.
As his modest hatchback came to a stop, Miss Garble pounded on the hood with both hands, and then raising one arm in what Alfred would later call a seriously dramatic movement, she pointed to his roof. Alfred got out of the car.
“ What is the matter, Miss Garble?”
“ Don’t you see it? It’s awful!”
“ What is awful?”
“ The blasphemers! I’ve already called the police, Alfred, don’t you worry!”
“ Oh. The woman.”
“ Woman?!”
“ Whatever did you call the police for?”
She caught the breath she was about to expel on another sentence, and took a step back from Alfred.
“ I put her up there, Miss Garble.”
“ What in the world for, Alfred? Why did you dress it like that?”
“ I thought she deserved to be up there. And I didn’t have any women’s clothes.” At this he chuckled.
“ So you dressed it like Christ?”
“ Oh my. So she is. How coincidental.”
“ Alfred, I…I just don’t understand.”
“ You will. Just wait. You’ll see. I’m going to sit in the recliner and watch her. Join me?”
Miss Garble had already gone.
Alfred spent a week doing things around the house. Fixing shelves that had been slightly tilted for years, rearranging his closet space, shampooing his carpets. He did a little gardening, but found his mind quickly wandered when he got on his knees in the dirt. He contemplated, mainly, the nature of gardening as a useless act. Why do this when I can go to the store? People get paid to grow things, he thought. He tried a one-man game of Scrabble, but found himself pondering the futility of that, as well.
Mostly, Alfred Monshocky spent the week sitting in his recliner in the center of his front lawn, watching the woman. Cars would pass. Some would slow as they went by and honk their horns. Other motorists rolled their windows down and shouted things. The majority of cars, however, passed without taking note of Alfred or his house at all.
Alfred barely noticed the cars at all, regardless of what they were doing when they drove by; their motors were like the subtle birdsong of the early morning, or the one-note droning of crickets at night. He listened mainly to her.
He became well-acquainted with the way she looked when the wind blew her from any angle; the way her hair draped across her face when the wind was from the east, and the way her hair curled around the side of the chimney when the wind was from the west. He became aware of how she billowed under any set of circumstances: how her knees creases like adolescent dimples around noon when the temperature changed, and how her mouth opened and closed like she was speaking anytime Alfred’s air-conditioning kicked on. Although she was far away from him, he could still see the color of her eyes, could still feel the smooth, viscous quality of her skin, could still smell her like a new raincoat.
Alfred had been going inside a few minutes after dark each night to make his dinner. If anything, this time away from work had only increased his appetitie. But he was running out of food. He didn’t want to go to the store, or anywhere.
He realized he must venture out, if only to Tina and Tim’s. “ She’ll be alright here, by herself. For a little while,” he said to himself.
Walking through the door to the restaurant, Alfred knew something was wrong. Tina only glanced at him briefly and walked back to the kitchen. The other regulars, with whom he had struck up at least a passing relationship, darted their eyes onto their plates of food the moment they saw him.
He sat himself near a window. There was no need to look at the menu. He always ordered the same thing. Tina was probably already letting the cook know to start preparing his food, Alfred reckoned. Alfred relaxed and thought about home.
Ten minutes later, he still hadn’t been approached by Tina or even the young girl who had been hired to help out on busy nights. Despite Alfred’s repeated attempts to make eye contact with Tina, he was successfully avoided. He went to the restroom and tried to swing by the young girl to get her attention, but she was too fast. Quite wily, Alfred thought. She slipped into the ladie’s room just before Alfred could reach her.
Half an hour after walking through the front door, Alfred walked back out it.
There’s enough here to eat tonight yet, Alfred thought as he arrived in his driveway. I’ll just need to go to the store tommorow.
He stood in his lawn for a few minutes, admiring his woman for the last time that day. She appeared very different in the dark. More feminine. Kind of mean, he thought. He made a mental note to stop at the hardware store when he was in town the next day, so he might price some outdoor lighting. He imagined a bright, festive display on the roof, with one or two large, white spotlights highlightinh the woman, and a few smaller, colored lights to surround and artfully showcase her. “ It’s a good idea,” he said to himself, and then, pointing his head upward, “ Goodnight, dear.”
Reaching into his coat pocket, he got his keys and stepped up to the door. But it was already open. “That’s strange,” he said, and he stepped into his house.
The chaise was moved. That was the first thing he noticed. It had been pulled into the middle of the living room. Alfred stood perfectly still in the dark room and stared at the chaise. It doesn’t make any sense.
He realized suddenly there were footsteps upstairs. Still, he didn’t move.
The people were in his bedroom. He was quite sure of that. Slowing his breathing in order to hear better, he could now distinctly make out two voices, although what they were saying was indecipherable. They were moving from one side of his bedroom to the other, rapidly.
Minutes passed. Alfred stayed glued to the floor, never moving an inch, listening to the shuffling overhead. The only light came from kitchen oven’s digital clock. The longer Alfred stood there, the more the clock illuminated. Now he could see the black canvas bags which had been sat inside the front door. They appeared to be half-full of something. He could make out the time on the Seth Thomas, and learned he had been standing there for ten minutes.
They’re coming down the stairs, he realized. And they were.
The moment they saw him, the two men froze. They were dressed in all black, down to the ski masks pulled over their heads. They were both considerably larger than Alfred, although they were by no means giant men.
The three men faced each other for seconds in complete silence. The intruders looked to Alfred, then to each other, and back to Alfred.
“ Don’t take her.”
Even now, the two intruders seemed as if they would say nothing. They simply exchanged glances again, and went back to staring at Alfred.
“ Take anything you want, but don’t take her.”
“ Man, what are you talking about?”
The man who had spoke had a nasally, almost pre-pubescent voice. Alfred almost asked him how old he was, but was kept from asking as the second man spoke up.
“ Hey, this is that house with the blow up doll on the roof.”
“ Oh yeah! That’s right. You the guy that put her up there?”
“ Take anything you want, but don’t take her.”
“ I think we will take her. We ain’t found shit worth shit in this house. We might as well take that thing and have some fun with it.”
“ He probably fucked that thing already, man.”
“ Did you fuck that thing?”
“ Take anything you want, but don’t take her.”
“ Where’s your ladder, man? In your garage? We’re taking the damn doll.”
“ If you take her, I’ll kill you.”
“ Yeah, I bet you would, man. I bet you would.”
“ If you take her, I’ll kill you both.”
The two intruders laughed. They glanced at Alfred one more time, shook their heads, picked up their black canvas bags, and left.
Alfred Monshocky watched them out his big bay window as they ran across his lawn and into Miss Garble’s back yard. He sat down on the chaise in the middle of the living room and began to turn words over in his head. He went through a few that didn’t quite sit well, words that sounded cracked-open. But then he found some-like black canvas-that he thought rolled off the tongue just fine.
“ Al, are you going to be the glue for me?”
“ As long as I don’t get the flu, Barry.”
Alfred rose from the big chair and sulked toward the door. His shoulders felt as low as his belly-button; he couldn’t fathom how to get them back where they belonged.
“ Oh, and Alfred?”
Alfred stopped without turning.
“ Don’t be late again.”
Once settled back in his office, Alfred Monshocky steadied himself at his desk to begin looking over the numbers for that day, what he would need to know before any field agent called in.
“ What’s wrong?” he said after he had booted up his computer. His eyes couldn’t focus; they had gone teary. Taking a moment to wipe his eyes, he found them wet at the corners, with some moisture stuck in the lashes. Once he removed that, he saw the computer screen just fine.
Before he could focus on the numbers, though, his phone rang.
“ Statistics,” Alfred said.
“ Danny? I thought you got canned this morning?”
“ He did. This is Alfred. What do you need?”
“ Al? Really? You sound just like Danny.”
“ Do I?”
“ Say ‘fuckers’ for me.”
“ I don’t usually curse.”
“ That a fact?”
“ How can I help you? Do you need gestion or temporation?”
“ Come on, neuter, say ‘fuckers’ for me, just once.”
Alfred hung the phone up and walked completely out of the building. Then he drove all the way home.
Miss Garble in his driveway. She gestured wildly at his car as he pulled in. Alfred couldn’t make out exactly what kind of gesturing she was performing. “ It’s elaborate,” he said to himself.
As his modest hatchback came to a stop, Miss Garble pounded on the hood with both hands, and then raising one arm in what Alfred would later call a seriously dramatic movement, she pointed to his roof. Alfred got out of the car.
“ What is the matter, Miss Garble?”
“ Don’t you see it? It’s awful!”
“ What is awful?”
“ The blasphemers! I’ve already called the police, Alfred, don’t you worry!”
“ Oh. The woman.”
“ Woman?!”
“ Whatever did you call the police for?”
She caught the breath she was about to expel on another sentence, and took a step back from Alfred.
“ I put her up there, Miss Garble.”
“ What in the world for, Alfred? Why did you dress it like that?”
“ I thought she deserved to be up there. And I didn’t have any women’s clothes.” At this he chuckled.
“ So you dressed it like Christ?”
“ Oh my. So she is. How coincidental.”
“ Alfred, I…I just don’t understand.”
“ You will. Just wait. You’ll see. I’m going to sit in the recliner and watch her. Join me?”
Miss Garble had already gone.
Alfred spent a week doing things around the house. Fixing shelves that had been slightly tilted for years, rearranging his closet space, shampooing his carpets. He did a little gardening, but found his mind quickly wandered when he got on his knees in the dirt. He contemplated, mainly, the nature of gardening as a useless act. Why do this when I can go to the store? People get paid to grow things, he thought. He tried a one-man game of Scrabble, but found himself pondering the futility of that, as well.
Mostly, Alfred Monshocky spent the week sitting in his recliner in the center of his front lawn, watching the woman. Cars would pass. Some would slow as they went by and honk their horns. Other motorists rolled their windows down and shouted things. The majority of cars, however, passed without taking note of Alfred or his house at all.
Alfred barely noticed the cars at all, regardless of what they were doing when they drove by; their motors were like the subtle birdsong of the early morning, or the one-note droning of crickets at night. He listened mainly to her.
He became well-acquainted with the way she looked when the wind blew her from any angle; the way her hair draped across her face when the wind was from the east, and the way her hair curled around the side of the chimney when the wind was from the west. He became aware of how she billowed under any set of circumstances: how her knees creases like adolescent dimples around noon when the temperature changed, and how her mouth opened and closed like she was speaking anytime Alfred’s air-conditioning kicked on. Although she was far away from him, he could still see the color of her eyes, could still feel the smooth, viscous quality of her skin, could still smell her like a new raincoat.
Alfred had been going inside a few minutes after dark each night to make his dinner. If anything, this time away from work had only increased his appetitie. But he was running out of food. He didn’t want to go to the store, or anywhere.
He realized he must venture out, if only to Tina and Tim’s. “ She’ll be alright here, by herself. For a little while,” he said to himself.
Walking through the door to the restaurant, Alfred knew something was wrong. Tina only glanced at him briefly and walked back to the kitchen. The other regulars, with whom he had struck up at least a passing relationship, darted their eyes onto their plates of food the moment they saw him.
He sat himself near a window. There was no need to look at the menu. He always ordered the same thing. Tina was probably already letting the cook know to start preparing his food, Alfred reckoned. Alfred relaxed and thought about home.
Ten minutes later, he still hadn’t been approached by Tina or even the young girl who had been hired to help out on busy nights. Despite Alfred’s repeated attempts to make eye contact with Tina, he was successfully avoided. He went to the restroom and tried to swing by the young girl to get her attention, but she was too fast. Quite wily, Alfred thought. She slipped into the ladie’s room just before Alfred could reach her.
Half an hour after walking through the front door, Alfred walked back out it.
There’s enough here to eat tonight yet, Alfred thought as he arrived in his driveway. I’ll just need to go to the store tommorow.
He stood in his lawn for a few minutes, admiring his woman for the last time that day. She appeared very different in the dark. More feminine. Kind of mean, he thought. He made a mental note to stop at the hardware store when he was in town the next day, so he might price some outdoor lighting. He imagined a bright, festive display on the roof, with one or two large, white spotlights highlightinh the woman, and a few smaller, colored lights to surround and artfully showcase her. “ It’s a good idea,” he said to himself, and then, pointing his head upward, “ Goodnight, dear.”
Reaching into his coat pocket, he got his keys and stepped up to the door. But it was already open. “That’s strange,” he said, and he stepped into his house.
The chaise was moved. That was the first thing he noticed. It had been pulled into the middle of the living room. Alfred stood perfectly still in the dark room and stared at the chaise. It doesn’t make any sense.
He realized suddenly there were footsteps upstairs. Still, he didn’t move.
The people were in his bedroom. He was quite sure of that. Slowing his breathing in order to hear better, he could now distinctly make out two voices, although what they were saying was indecipherable. They were moving from one side of his bedroom to the other, rapidly.
Minutes passed. Alfred stayed glued to the floor, never moving an inch, listening to the shuffling overhead. The only light came from kitchen oven’s digital clock. The longer Alfred stood there, the more the clock illuminated. Now he could see the black canvas bags which had been sat inside the front door. They appeared to be half-full of something. He could make out the time on the Seth Thomas, and learned he had been standing there for ten minutes.
They’re coming down the stairs, he realized. And they were.
The moment they saw him, the two men froze. They were dressed in all black, down to the ski masks pulled over their heads. They were both considerably larger than Alfred, although they were by no means giant men.
The three men faced each other for seconds in complete silence. The intruders looked to Alfred, then to each other, and back to Alfred.
“ Don’t take her.”
Even now, the two intruders seemed as if they would say nothing. They simply exchanged glances again, and went back to staring at Alfred.
“ Take anything you want, but don’t take her.”
“ Man, what are you talking about?”
The man who had spoke had a nasally, almost pre-pubescent voice. Alfred almost asked him how old he was, but was kept from asking as the second man spoke up.
“ Hey, this is that house with the blow up doll on the roof.”
“ Oh yeah! That’s right. You the guy that put her up there?”
“ Take anything you want, but don’t take her.”
“ I think we will take her. We ain’t found shit worth shit in this house. We might as well take that thing and have some fun with it.”
“ He probably fucked that thing already, man.”
“ Did you fuck that thing?”
“ Take anything you want, but don’t take her.”
“ Where’s your ladder, man? In your garage? We’re taking the damn doll.”
“ If you take her, I’ll kill you.”
“ Yeah, I bet you would, man. I bet you would.”
“ If you take her, I’ll kill you both.”
The two intruders laughed. They glanced at Alfred one more time, shook their heads, picked up their black canvas bags, and left.
Alfred Monshocky watched them out his big bay window as they ran across his lawn and into Miss Garble’s back yard. He sat down on the chaise in the middle of the living room and began to turn words over in his head. He went through a few that didn’t quite sit well, words that sounded cracked-open. But then he found some-like black canvas-that he thought rolled off the tongue just fine.
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thanks! I don't write prose very often...one day this whole story popped into my head and I had to write it....I am quite happy with it....perhaps I'll write more....