113
R. Linda:
All I can say is, "Oh mi Dios!"
I came home early today to roll up me sleeves, get me quesadilla fixings ready and get meself to the big room in the basement where the Tex/Mex party is to be held this evening. As I was coming up me stairs to me apartment, I could smell this stench (there is no other way to describe it), and as I opened me door it hit me full in the face almost knocking me backwards over the railing.
For a heart racing moment, I thought O'Malley had been taken out of his hiding place and was probably laid out on the cutting board in the kitchen. Fanning the air furiously with one hand, I threw me briefcase to the sofa and placed me hands over me nose and mouth. I stepped inside as me eyes started watering. I looked toward the kitchen and oh mi Dios, but I saw this white arm with a butcher's cleaver coming down hard. For sure O'Malley was being chopped up for chili!
I stood there mesmerised as the arm swung up and down cleaving away at the red meat on the chopping board. I forced courage to me body and with stilted steps lurched towards the kitchen. There on the table was all this bloody red meat. I looked instantly for fingers and toes, anything that would look like pieces of a human being, but saw none. AND, Flanagan was in a white apron covered in meat and blood and I have to tell you, I almost passed out I did. He looked disturbingly demented, reddish hair askew, eyes gleaming, enjoying the chopping and blood spattering. I, was horrified.
He turned I guess at seeing something in his peripheral vision (that be me with dry heaves), and with a huge smile on his blood spattered face, told me to come on in. Oh no, I didn't think that would be a good idea. I could see three huge cooking pots bubbling with this reddish brown stew-like stuff. Me eyes were beyond watering now, they were cascading waterfalls because there was the ouchy, itchy tang of pepper sauce wafting in the air, and I could not control the equally cascading snot that began to flow from me nose!
"What's the matter Gabe, you that sensitive to real chili being made the old fashion way?"
Chili? Ok but what kind of meat was that, that's what I wanted to know, but was too overcome with waterworks and snot to ask. I grabbed up me shirt out of me trousers and because it was the only thing I could do, pulled up the shirt tails to wipe me face. I know it sounds gross, but I was in a stunned and shocked state of mind and body at what I was seeing, hearing and most of all, smelling. The effect was over-powering and with numbed brain I stood there mopping me bodily fluids, as Flanagan went back to smacking the meat with the butchers cleaver, him laughing as he did it.
With some effort I got out the question of what kind of meat was that, to which he replied, it wasn't "the finest pork, but for these suckers who live here, I couldn't see spending the money." Whack! "It is tough meat, Gabriel, but someone has to eat it, ha, ha." WHACK! "Get yourself changed Gabe and you can help me truck this stuff to the basement." Whack, whack!
I backed away from the descending cleaver and out of the pepper sauce air of the kitchen, and coughing me fool head off, somehow found meself the water closet where I threw me head into the sink and dashed cold water over it for relief. Once I toweled off, I stood there (with door closed), thinking Flanagan was serving up O'Malley as a chili dish and no way was I eating the evidence. Pork meat resembles human meat too closely for me taste quite literally. It struck me suddenly that all this was insane and I was being delusional. But was I? Yes R. Linda, THAT most definitely was the question. Was I, or was I not, acting paranoid? I could hear that Cyndi Lauper voice of me downstairs neighbour in me head saying, "Gee Gabe, don't ya think one day O'Malley will end up on your kitchen table in a pile of unrecognisable gook, and there you will be chomping away not knowing?"
I could shake her for that image she put in me head not that long ago, and for the bloody horrific dreams that came that night she suggested it. With all the food parties in this building, this was the first time Flanagan was actually participating, and THAT made me wonder why. What a great way to cover up a murder, have everyone eat the body. I covered me face in me hands and wondered what to do.
Venturing out, I decided to change me clothes and get meself to Tonya's to ask for an opinion, but as I opened the WC door, the odour, the pure essence of pepper caught hold of me and with me gooey wet shirt covering me face for the second time, I felt me way to me bedroom. Me eyes were burning and puffy, so much so, I could hardly see out of them. I got to me room, slammed the door after me, felt me way to the window, opened it, let go me messy shirt and took a deep breath of clean air. I started choking because even as I turned back around in me room the pepper had permeated the air inside faster than the cold air from the window could blow in. Begorrah me, I thought I was having a heart attack.
I told meself adamantly, don't you die here Gabe or you'll be in that stew feeding the entire building tonight! I know you are probably beside yourself with laughter, but this was serious. Somehow, I don't remember much more because of the pain I was in, I managed to change me clothes, grab a box of tissues and make me way out of the abode to Tonya's. I knew she was taking the day off for this stupid party, as was everyone else most likely. I did wonder how it was no one else seemed to smell the stench, but ok I was out of there, but not before the insane thought that me quesadillas would be infested with the smell of Flanagan's "old fashioned chili."
I near about banged Tonya's door down to let me in NOW, PLEASEEE! She looked wide eyed stunned when she saw the tissue bits stuck to me sweating face from dabbing at the continuing river of fluids exiting me eyes and nose.
"My God what is the matter with you, Gabe, are you sick?" She asked concerned.
I hadn't tried to speak after leaving Flanagan and I found suddenly as I tried to tell her me problem, that me tongue had swelled to the size of an elephant's and I was DROOLING! Talk about embarrassing. It is a good thing she closed the door after me or I be sure I'd be having seizures on the hall floor.
Tonya had a window open because she was working on her chicken chimichangas and was letting the apartment cool down. Well me dear R. Linda, I made me a speedy bee-line for that open window in such a way that Tonya rushed after me, because she thought I was about to fling meself out of it. But once reaching it I dropped the tissue box (out the window), and inhaled for all I was worth, exhaled all the way to the bottom of me savaged lungs, and inhaled the fresh clean air of Boston's snow filled harbour. It was nirvana to me olfactory senses and me ocular ones too. It saved me I think from a bodily overload of proportions beyond the imagination of physical and mental distress.
With some fumbling to get around me fat tongue I tried to tell Tonya what the matter was, only she thought I was having some kind of palsy fit and going for the phone, I watched in horror as she started to dial 911. Good thing me reflexes were working because I lunged at her fingers and pulled the phone away hanging it up. I wagged me index finger at her in a no-no motion, and spying the Post-A-Notes on the table, picked up the pen and wrote her what was going on with me.
I could see she was trying hard not to laugh (which annoyed me no end because to me hurting body, this was not funny, no not at all). She fought for control of her facial muscles and when she saw me written words, "I think O'Malley is being served as dinner tonight," she went from relaxed to troubled. I wrote it all out and she told me to sit there and not move. As she pulled a jumper (sweater to you) on, (I didn't understand that move, it was hotter than Hades in the whole building from all the hot flavoured cooking going on), she informed me she'd be right back.
Begorrah me, I knew where me brave Tonya was off to and it behooved me to stop her. Which I did try to do, but she told me if she wasn't back in 10 minutes to call 911. How could I do that, me tongue was the size of a world globe. But she shoved me back from the door where I followed her, and left me to worry meself sicker than I already was. Not one to sit and wait, I searched her place for another box of tissues, but there weren't any, so uncoiling almost an entire roll of toilet tissue, I covered me face and burst out to me apartment.
Smartly she had left the door open (smart for her, lethal to the rest of the apartment because now the odour of Flanagan's stew was wafting about anywhere it wanted to go). Staggering and drooling, I made it to me apartment door when suddenly from below I hear in that nasal Cyndi Lauper voice, "WHAT is that smell?"
Oh no, not Argiebelle, not at a time like this, but then it struck me, why not Argiebelle? I waved over the railing at her to come on up. Yes, it was in me mind that once she was inhaling Flanagan's lethal chili, she'd keel over and die. Without a moments hesitation she came stampeding up the steps and I stood there surprised she could stand the pepper sauce sting in the air. She looked up at me like I had two heads and because I could not speak for the drool, I pointed inside me apartment.
"Gee whiz Gabe, are you having a fit or something? You're face is all red and blotchy and your eyes, where are they? Oh poor Gabe you must be allergic to something."
I wanted to shout, "Well yes indeed, I be allergic to Flanagan and YOU," but of course that came out in gibberish and all it got me was her pulling me inside the pepper laced apartment to find Tonya stirring one of the big vats of O'Malley stew, her eyes all squinty. As I walked towards the kitchen I saw in slow motion, Tonya lifting the ladle to her mouth to take a taste.
OH MY GOD! I had to stop her and I bolted out of Argie's possessive little grasp and lunged at Tonya who saw me coming, and before she could taste O'Malley, I slipped on the bloody floor, me mouth a big O as I came down hitting into Tonya's legs, the ladle flying with O'Malley chili up into the air and a big chunk of meat s l o w l y came down -- you guessed it -- right into me open mouth!
"I know my chili is good, but damnit, I didn't know you all were such chili freaks you have to knock each other over for the first taste." Flanagan laughed, like me fall was funny or something.
Tonya was at least asking me if I were ok, but Argie was asking me "How does it taste Gabe?" Flanagan was standing there in his blood soaked apron smiling like a maggot on fresh kill. As for me, I was slowly choking to death as Tonya found a glass, filled it with water and started pouring it down me throat. She pounded me on the back, but I swallowed the meat in spite of me efforts not to.
Actually, the meat tasted like chicken. Does human flesh taste like that do you know? I be ever suspicious of that chili concoction and have been assured, now that I be back in Tonya's apartment, box of tissues at me side, sitting in front of the open window using her computer, that in Tonya's learned opinion, Flanagan has been massacring pork into little bits and not O'Malley's dead carcass.
If the swelling doesn't go down, I may not be at the party making quesadillas. At least me tongue is back to normal, and me skin isn't filled with bright red bumps anymore. I have the watery eyes and runny nose yet to get under control. The drooling is almost stopped and the chili pots are downstairs simmering on the industrial type stove, with a host of other pepper concoctions. Tonya is secretly smiling at me suspicions, and Argie, well Argie has no clue as usual and is over at me place helping Flanagan clean up the "evidence."
Hurrrmph!
Gabe
Translation: All I can say is, "Oh mi Dois!" (Oh my God!)
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
All I can say is, "Oh mi Dios!"
I came home early today to roll up me sleeves, get me quesadilla fixings ready and get meself to the big room in the basement where the Tex/Mex party is to be held this evening. As I was coming up me stairs to me apartment, I could smell this stench (there is no other way to describe it), and as I opened me door it hit me full in the face almost knocking me backwards over the railing.
For a heart racing moment, I thought O'Malley had been taken out of his hiding place and was probably laid out on the cutting board in the kitchen. Fanning the air furiously with one hand, I threw me briefcase to the sofa and placed me hands over me nose and mouth. I stepped inside as me eyes started watering. I looked toward the kitchen and oh mi Dios, but I saw this white arm with a butcher's cleaver coming down hard. For sure O'Malley was being chopped up for chili!
I stood there mesmerised as the arm swung up and down cleaving away at the red meat on the chopping board. I forced courage to me body and with stilted steps lurched towards the kitchen. There on the table was all this bloody red meat. I looked instantly for fingers and toes, anything that would look like pieces of a human being, but saw none. AND, Flanagan was in a white apron covered in meat and blood and I have to tell you, I almost passed out I did. He looked disturbingly demented, reddish hair askew, eyes gleaming, enjoying the chopping and blood spattering. I, was horrified.
He turned I guess at seeing something in his peripheral vision (that be me with dry heaves), and with a huge smile on his blood spattered face, told me to come on in. Oh no, I didn't think that would be a good idea. I could see three huge cooking pots bubbling with this reddish brown stew-like stuff. Me eyes were beyond watering now, they were cascading waterfalls because there was the ouchy, itchy tang of pepper sauce wafting in the air, and I could not control the equally cascading snot that began to flow from me nose!
"What's the matter Gabe, you that sensitive to real chili being made the old fashion way?"
Chili? Ok but what kind of meat was that, that's what I wanted to know, but was too overcome with waterworks and snot to ask. I grabbed up me shirt out of me trousers and because it was the only thing I could do, pulled up the shirt tails to wipe me face. I know it sounds gross, but I was in a stunned and shocked state of mind and body at what I was seeing, hearing and most of all, smelling. The effect was over-powering and with numbed brain I stood there mopping me bodily fluids, as Flanagan went back to smacking the meat with the butchers cleaver, him laughing as he did it.
With some effort I got out the question of what kind of meat was that, to which he replied, it wasn't "the finest pork, but for these suckers who live here, I couldn't see spending the money." Whack! "It is tough meat, Gabriel, but someone has to eat it, ha, ha." WHACK! "Get yourself changed Gabe and you can help me truck this stuff to the basement." Whack, whack!
I backed away from the descending cleaver and out of the pepper sauce air of the kitchen, and coughing me fool head off, somehow found meself the water closet where I threw me head into the sink and dashed cold water over it for relief. Once I toweled off, I stood there (with door closed), thinking Flanagan was serving up O'Malley as a chili dish and no way was I eating the evidence. Pork meat resembles human meat too closely for me taste quite literally. It struck me suddenly that all this was insane and I was being delusional. But was I? Yes R. Linda, THAT most definitely was the question. Was I, or was I not, acting paranoid? I could hear that Cyndi Lauper voice of me downstairs neighbour in me head saying, "Gee Gabe, don't ya think one day O'Malley will end up on your kitchen table in a pile of unrecognisable gook, and there you will be chomping away not knowing?"
I could shake her for that image she put in me head not that long ago, and for the bloody horrific dreams that came that night she suggested it. With all the food parties in this building, this was the first time Flanagan was actually participating, and THAT made me wonder why. What a great way to cover up a murder, have everyone eat the body. I covered me face in me hands and wondered what to do.
Venturing out, I decided to change me clothes and get meself to Tonya's to ask for an opinion, but as I opened the WC door, the odour, the pure essence of pepper caught hold of me and with me gooey wet shirt covering me face for the second time, I felt me way to me bedroom. Me eyes were burning and puffy, so much so, I could hardly see out of them. I got to me room, slammed the door after me, felt me way to the window, opened it, let go me messy shirt and took a deep breath of clean air. I started choking because even as I turned back around in me room the pepper had permeated the air inside faster than the cold air from the window could blow in. Begorrah me, I thought I was having a heart attack.
I told meself adamantly, don't you die here Gabe or you'll be in that stew feeding the entire building tonight! I know you are probably beside yourself with laughter, but this was serious. Somehow, I don't remember much more because of the pain I was in, I managed to change me clothes, grab a box of tissues and make me way out of the abode to Tonya's. I knew she was taking the day off for this stupid party, as was everyone else most likely. I did wonder how it was no one else seemed to smell the stench, but ok I was out of there, but not before the insane thought that me quesadillas would be infested with the smell of Flanagan's "old fashioned chili."
I near about banged Tonya's door down to let me in NOW, PLEASEEE! She looked wide eyed stunned when she saw the tissue bits stuck to me sweating face from dabbing at the continuing river of fluids exiting me eyes and nose.
"My God what is the matter with you, Gabe, are you sick?" She asked concerned.
I hadn't tried to speak after leaving Flanagan and I found suddenly as I tried to tell her me problem, that me tongue had swelled to the size of an elephant's and I was DROOLING! Talk about embarrassing. It is a good thing she closed the door after me or I be sure I'd be having seizures on the hall floor.
Tonya had a window open because she was working on her chicken chimichangas and was letting the apartment cool down. Well me dear R. Linda, I made me a speedy bee-line for that open window in such a way that Tonya rushed after me, because she thought I was about to fling meself out of it. But once reaching it I dropped the tissue box (out the window), and inhaled for all I was worth, exhaled all the way to the bottom of me savaged lungs, and inhaled the fresh clean air of Boston's snow filled harbour. It was nirvana to me olfactory senses and me ocular ones too. It saved me I think from a bodily overload of proportions beyond the imagination of physical and mental distress.
With some fumbling to get around me fat tongue I tried to tell Tonya what the matter was, only she thought I was having some kind of palsy fit and going for the phone, I watched in horror as she started to dial 911. Good thing me reflexes were working because I lunged at her fingers and pulled the phone away hanging it up. I wagged me index finger at her in a no-no motion, and spying the Post-A-Notes on the table, picked up the pen and wrote her what was going on with me.
I could see she was trying hard not to laugh (which annoyed me no end because to me hurting body, this was not funny, no not at all). She fought for control of her facial muscles and when she saw me written words, "I think O'Malley is being served as dinner tonight," she went from relaxed to troubled. I wrote it all out and she told me to sit there and not move. As she pulled a jumper (sweater to you) on, (I didn't understand that move, it was hotter than Hades in the whole building from all the hot flavoured cooking going on), she informed me she'd be right back.
Begorrah me, I knew where me brave Tonya was off to and it behooved me to stop her. Which I did try to do, but she told me if she wasn't back in 10 minutes to call 911. How could I do that, me tongue was the size of a world globe. But she shoved me back from the door where I followed her, and left me to worry meself sicker than I already was. Not one to sit and wait, I searched her place for another box of tissues, but there weren't any, so uncoiling almost an entire roll of toilet tissue, I covered me face and burst out to me apartment.
Smartly she had left the door open (smart for her, lethal to the rest of the apartment because now the odour of Flanagan's stew was wafting about anywhere it wanted to go). Staggering and drooling, I made it to me apartment door when suddenly from below I hear in that nasal Cyndi Lauper voice, "WHAT is that smell?"
Oh no, not Argiebelle, not at a time like this, but then it struck me, why not Argiebelle? I waved over the railing at her to come on up. Yes, it was in me mind that once she was inhaling Flanagan's lethal chili, she'd keel over and die. Without a moments hesitation she came stampeding up the steps and I stood there surprised she could stand the pepper sauce sting in the air. She looked up at me like I had two heads and because I could not speak for the drool, I pointed inside me apartment.
"Gee whiz Gabe, are you having a fit or something? You're face is all red and blotchy and your eyes, where are they? Oh poor Gabe you must be allergic to something."
I wanted to shout, "Well yes indeed, I be allergic to Flanagan and YOU," but of course that came out in gibberish and all it got me was her pulling me inside the pepper laced apartment to find Tonya stirring one of the big vats of O'Malley stew, her eyes all squinty. As I walked towards the kitchen I saw in slow motion, Tonya lifting the ladle to her mouth to take a taste.
OH MY GOD! I had to stop her and I bolted out of Argie's possessive little grasp and lunged at Tonya who saw me coming, and before she could taste O'Malley, I slipped on the bloody floor, me mouth a big O as I came down hitting into Tonya's legs, the ladle flying with O'Malley chili up into the air and a big chunk of meat s l o w l y came down -- you guessed it -- right into me open mouth!
"I know my chili is good, but damnit, I didn't know you all were such chili freaks you have to knock each other over for the first taste." Flanagan laughed, like me fall was funny or something.
Tonya was at least asking me if I were ok, but Argie was asking me "How does it taste Gabe?" Flanagan was standing there in his blood soaked apron smiling like a maggot on fresh kill. As for me, I was slowly choking to death as Tonya found a glass, filled it with water and started pouring it down me throat. She pounded me on the back, but I swallowed the meat in spite of me efforts not to.
Actually, the meat tasted like chicken. Does human flesh taste like that do you know? I be ever suspicious of that chili concoction and have been assured, now that I be back in Tonya's apartment, box of tissues at me side, sitting in front of the open window using her computer, that in Tonya's learned opinion, Flanagan has been massacring pork into little bits and not O'Malley's dead carcass.
If the swelling doesn't go down, I may not be at the party making quesadillas. At least me tongue is back to normal, and me skin isn't filled with bright red bumps anymore. I have the watery eyes and runny nose yet to get under control. The drooling is almost stopped and the chili pots are downstairs simmering on the industrial type stove, with a host of other pepper concoctions. Tonya is secretly smiling at me suspicions, and Argie, well Argie has no clue as usual and is over at me place helping Flanagan clean up the "evidence."
Hurrrmph!
Gabe
Translation: All I can say is, "Oh mi Dois!" (Oh my God!)
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
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