Wednesday, July 21, 2004

paranoia...

 
Currently, I’m house-sitting in Mill Valley. As most of you know, normally, I live deep within the ghetto, in a relatively small flat with a security system to rival a vault. Sirens wiz by every three seconds, and there’s always about 20 drunk and high men sitting out front at all hours of the day. This is where I feel perfectly safe.
Now, I’m in a huge, old house, with funky passages and noises and many, many possible points of entry for rapists, murderers, and deranged maniacs. I’m high up in the mountains, and while my screams would echo beautifully into the valley, no one would come running.
Last night, I lay in bed watching Cold Case Files well into the night. The episode was about this serial killer, who would mutilate his victims before raping and then killing them. Suddenly, the floorboards creaked upstairs.
Now, the dog I’m dog-sitting, Marilyn, wouldn’t bark if 80 masked gunmen stormed in and started shooting up the place. She stayed silently by my side, as I reminded myself that the last murder in Mill Valley was in, like, 1957. The floorboards creaked again. This is a big, wooden house. Of course it’ll make noises. Right? I decided to call Andy for comfort and reassurance.
“Come over and protect me.”
“Hell no.” he replied. “I’m watching Cold Case Files. I love this shit.”
Clearly, we’re twisted soul mates, but I was really starting to get freaked out.
“Just stay on the phone with me while I check upstairs.”
“Oh great. That’s what I need. To hear my best friend get murdered.”
“Yeah, but he’ll mutilate and rape me before he murders me. You might have time to call the cops.”
With the phone in my hand, Marilyn at my side, and a wire clothes hanger, I tip toe upstairs. I double lock and deadbolt the door, check all the decks, and rustle all the clothes in the closets to make sure no one’s hiding behind them.
“Are you dead yet?”
“Fuck you.”
Clearly, no one is here. And it’s 2am.
Andy starts to whine. “I’ve got class tomorrow, you paranoid freak. Shut up about your killer and call me in the morning.”
“Okay. But if I die, I just want you to know that I love you and adore you and think you’re one of the best men I know, Andy.”
“Whatever, bitch. Take a Zanex and watch another show. I gotts ta sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
And then, the line went dead.