tales of the sponge
and the wheels of my brain are once again in rotation, and therefore we have more text splashed on the pages in front of you.
normally in society, there are general rules that we follow. sometimes it may be necessary and excusable to bend, even break, these rules. however, as I have found out, the seniors of our fair world, find that they are excluded from the rulebook. of course they have been through lots of years of life, accumulated vast amounts of knowledge and have the right to act out. to do what they please, however slowly, but do it regardless.
the night was face-busting cold. but inside, the rooms of my hardwood floored apartment were toasty and buttered. it had been a long day and my body was weary. the only thing that would satisfy me now, after a shower, much food and some drawing, was some playstationing. some popping badguys in the head, some running old ladies over, some all around virtual mayhem was in order. so with my bag of ketchup chips, and a glass of bottled water my fun began.
things began to heat up and enjoyment was much abound. so much in fact, that when I next looked at the time-teller on my wall, it was three forty of the AM. with no work the next day and nothing else to do I played on. but I didn't get far...
I rounded the next pixelated tree stump, ducked, assumed the classic one-knee shooting stance, and set my sites on an enemy soldiers head. my right index finger anxiously flirted with the trigger button, pressing slightly, but backing off - bouts of uncertainty keeping the patrolling soldier alive. a final split second decision ended the soldiers patrol, assignment and army enrollment. as he fell to the ground others became alerted at my presence and it was time to panic. time to suck it up, gather the guts, focus.
and the doorbell rang.
at first, it didn't register in my mind as a doorbell. I accepted the fact that this games tension laden gunfights had finally driven me over the cliff that was sanity. no, it really was my doorbell. at three fifty AM? I got up and bounded gracefully to the window. being on the third floor, trying to see someone ringing a doorbell at a door directly beneath you is next to impossible. but then I heard the patter of my cats feets galloping towards the front door to my apartment, accompanied by a soft knocking.
it must have been some emergency. my elderly neighbours must have urgent need of something, someone, me. I donned my superhero tights and arrived at the door, full of intents. I would bash any burglars, thwart any theivary, violence any vagrants. I would save my building from devastation.
I swung the door open. after the searing of the hallway halogens became bearable, I found that my hopes of herocy were to be trampled among the clumps of poo in my cats litter box. there stood my old neighbours, calm as could be. yet a fire blazed. a fury, blue in his eyes.
the hunched, would-be six foot, frame of the retired gent occupied the space of my doorway. his teal faux-cashmere sweater and brown dress pants burned my recently adjusted night eyes. his wife, small and frail - occupying almost none of their doorframe - was just behind him. I looked at him in question.
mumbles came from his mouth. nothing coherent. words slowly started to become clear. 'hot' and 'too hot' were favoured among them. then we made it to grade 1. we got a complete sentence. 'its so hot in here.'
my face was in disbelief. this man and his small female companion, actually pushed my door alert button to inform me that it was hot in here? hot in herre. but before my mouth could release any vowel-consonant salads, he finished his whole story.
teal-fan was going on with his words, and I listened. and was finally able to insert a few of my own.
'its too hot in here. its far too hot in here.'
'and?' my head said. his lanky person looked for my agreement and perhaps some approval at his alerting me of this eventuos event.
'its so hot, the radiators are burning.'
'yeah, its a little warm in here. but its always been like this. even last year was really hot in here.' I replied.
'its burning.' his face told me he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that it was hot. as if it was ridiculous for the heat to even exist. 'someone should tell the lady with the cats to turn the heat down. we're burning.'
all this time he never really looked me in the eyes. his glare wandered past me and into my apartment depths. maybe he was looking for the excess heat in here too. 'okay, well tomorrow morning ill go and mention it to her for you.' I figured that this was reasonable and that it would tame the fire in his eyes. but instead, it served as only more fuel. he pointed a jangly finger towards the scampering cats and announced 'its far too hot, THEY'LL EXPLODE'.
again I offered the only thing I was willing to do at the absurd hour of now three fifty-six AM,
'ill go and speak to the landlady tomorrow morning'
to which he replied, 'no, NOW'.
my patience was wearing thin. and my game was sitting with idle attentiveness. this was a man who had once asked me to take out his garbage as I exited for work. and when I happily agreed to do it, he proceeded to tell me, 'but not yet though'. so I was supposed to go to work, come home when it was convenient for him for me to dispose of his disposals, then go back to work. who are you?
at this point he tried to walk into my apartment, as if to hunt down and kill the heat. and this was the last straw. spaceman johnson had rang my bell at almost four AM, complained that his heat was too high, and expected me to complain to our landlady at the crack of dawn. and I let loose a small torrent of morning-dew-lavender words.
'look. I'm not going to ring someones bell at four in the morning. ill talk to her tomorrow for you. you're ringing my bell at four in the morning, don't you find that a bit late?'
he stared at me. 'its too hot'. billy backjob here was like a broken record player. and the record is an old song that you really never liked, but put up with because your friends liked it and you wanted to stay cool. his blue eyes fixed me with a look that said, 'you young people these days. no respect.' he turned away slowly, but not without sending me a glare filled with disbelief, that I wouldn't fulfill his requests.
our doors closed, and I shook my head. I walked back to the couch and jumped back into the virtual world I was so comfortable in only moments ago.
if you're hot, open a window a crack. take off a layer of clothing, maybe the teal faux-cashmere. why would your first resort be knocking on your neighbours door? at three-fifty in the morning? did he actually think that it was a good idea to possibly wake me up with such news and requests? or maybe im just obesely selfish in my ways. unwilling to help out a fellow neighbour.
next time I think my hot water is running a bit too fast, at three-twelve AM, ill maybe call you up. so you can fix the problem for me.