I know, I know. A lot of you will say I’m being sensational or I’m using hyperbole. But I’m not. I’m really not. This guy is literally going to drive me insane. Allow me to explain.
I met Gordon back when we were kids in elementary school. He was even weird back then. He was small and thin, with big, gray eyes and hair that was never combed. He didn’t have any friends and he always smelled like cheese.
No, he and I didn’t grow closer together over the years; This isn’t one of those stories. I graduated high school and went to a prodigious university for a few semesters before the stress got to me and I dropped out. I returned to town and, because my folks wouldn’t take me back, I had to find a roommate. Well, unfortunately for me, Gordon was looking for one as well. He was living in a two-bedroom house with an attic and a basement, and I figured I wouldn’t have to deal with him much given how much space we both would have in the house.
Everything was okay the first few months, aside from a few things. One, Gordon was the type to use ten different dishes in a single day and never wash them. Like, ever. So I found myself scrubbing ceramic way more often than I should have. Another thing was the fact that Gordon, although private, seemed to take certain liberties just because we were living in “his house.” I once walked into the livingroom, a girl accompanying me, and saw Gordon beating his meat to anime characters. Gordon looked at me, literally made eye contact, and then glanced back at the television, continuing his session. The girl went home in quite a hurry, and I was forced to follow Gordon’s example that night. Gordon also walked around in his underwear, sometimes wearing the same pair three days in a row. I never saw him leave the house, so I had no idea how the hell he was paying his half of the rent. But the worst part? Gordon was a hoarder.
The guy hated to throw anything away. I would come home and find empty McDonald’s cups or UPS boxes that had already been emptied of their contents and left haphazardly on the coffee table. After throwing them out, I would wake up the next day and find the trash can tipped over, with the cups either back on the table, stuffed in the closet, or put in the back of the refrigerator, even though they were empty. This was the case for practically everything Gordon owned; Clothes too small to fit him protruded from under the couch or the closet in the hallway; old papers and binders from as far back as his middle school days were up in the attic, along with who knows what else; broken foosball tables and empty potato chip bags had been tossed into the basement. And, speaking of the basement, the place was so stuffed with random shit that I avoided it altogether. Going down there, or even to the attic, was a health risk.
One day, Gordon and I got into it. I had had a long day at work, and I was looking forward to going home and eating my leftover pulled pork sandwich and drinking a couple beers. I walked into the house to find Gordon sitting on the couch, his hairy feet resting on the coffee table, with my whole six pack of Shiner (he doesn’t even drink) empty next to them, and the leftovers of my pulled pork sandwich on a plate next to him on the couch. I lost it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, man? We have all that food in there and you decided to eat my shit?”
Gordon looked at me as though I was the one who had offended him. “I didn’t see your name on it. You should leave a note if you don’t want other people eating your food.”
“I have! This isn’t the first time, Gordon! I had a terrible day today-“
“Oh, you didn’t enjoy work? Boohoo, that’s why it’s called work!” Gordon muttered, turning back to the T.V. I was angry, and wasn’t holding back any longer.
“At least I have a job. How the hell do you pay for anything anyway?”
“My mother helps me out, actually, asshole. I find such things as ‘work’ undesirable. Clearly ‘work’ can make people act irrational and childish.”
I would’ve kicked his ass, but a voice in my head told me that it wasn’t the right thing to do. This was his house, after all. I wasn’t trying to get kicked out. I swallowed my curses, stormed to my bedroom, and slammed the door behind me. I went to bed hungry and angry that night.
A few days later, I was doing the dishes and Gordon was holed up in his room. There was a knock on the door, and I turned off the sink, wondering what the hell Gordon had ordered this time. You can imagine my surprise when I found a gorgeous blonde woman standing in the doorway, her gray eyes full of joy and excitement.
“Hi!” she said, and, still dumbfounded, I only stared at her for a few seconds. Those beautiful eyes of hers narrowed and she asked, “Are you okay?”
“Uhh, yeah, of course. Are you looking for someone?”
“Yes, I am. Don’t you remember me? I’m Gordon’s sister, Serena.”
“Serena?” I said aloud, and then it came back to me. Gordon did have a little sister that I remembered distinctly. But she definitely didn’t look like this back then.
“Yeah…can I come in?”
“Sure, yeah, come in.”
Serena went to Gordon’s door and knocked. When there was no response, she returned to the livingroom.
“He must be asleep.”
“No, I doubt it. I think he goes into legit hibernation sometimes. He can go for days in there.”
“Right. He’s been that way ever since our mom died. He’s been so withdrawn emotionally, but the Gordon I know is still in there.”
I would’ve told her that Gordon had been weird his entire life, but decided against it. If I was ever going to have a chance with this beautiful woman, insulting her brother wasn’t the way to go.
“Tell him I came by, will you? I may be able to stop by again on Friday.”
“Yeah, of course. It was good seeing you again, Serena!”
Serena smiled and left the house. I watched her go from the window, then went back to my show. A couple of days later, I found myself dogsitting a friend’s Poodle named Nancy. Nancy was more trouble than she was worth. She shit on the floor less than ten minutes after I brought her back inside from her walk, she chewed a hole through my shoe, and she managed to unplug the microwave and nearly crushed herself with it before I dived down to save for her. My own head aching and stars swimming in my vision, I heard, somewhere far off in the distance, the sound of the basement door creaking. I sat up just in time to see Nancy vanish through a crack in the door.
“No! Nancy, come back, dammit!”
I chased after her, flinging the door open. The Poodle was gone; She had managed to disappear into the sea of shit that didn’t belong that Gordon had accrued. I cursed again and promised Nancy that this might be her last day if she didn’t come back from down there. The little shit ignored me and I was forced to make my way down the rickety flight of stairs. “Nancy! Nancy come here, damn it!”
It really was a maze down there. I could see old toys, rocking chairs, broken dressers, tennis tables, furniture, rusted kitchen appliances, coat racks, and all manners of things down there. The only thing I couldn’t see was Nancy. I stumbled around for a bit before the inevitable happened. I stepped on a rubber duck and slipped, landing flat on my back. Groaning and promising myself that Gordon was going to be paying my hospital bill, I turned over and finally noticed Nancy. She was in a dark corner, beside a broken canoe, chewing on a bone. “There you are, you little shit.”
I stood back up and walked, a little more carefully now, towards the dog.
“Where’d you get that bone Nan…” I trailed off as I caught sight of what was in the canoe. It was a corpse, dressed in a purple dress, white pearls around her neck. She still had hair, though it was all gray now. I was going to scream, but I covered my mouth with my hand. I shouldn’t have been surprised, honestly. Gordon never could get rid of things.
Submitted October 13, 2017 at 11:23AM by AsDeathBeckons http://ift.tt/2ykeyDv nosleep
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