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R. Linda:
I rang Mr. McFeeney, the owner of the brownstone where I used to live in Boston. I left a message that if he had an apartment available to please let me know. I would take out immediate rental. Tonya said two chickies have me old place up on top and that made me a wee bit sad it did, but you know the ceiling was a mess and it got hot up there.
She said the second floor apartment below her was looking for a roommate (the second floor has a lot more space and each apartment boasts two bedrooms). Tonya said there were two young guys renting and one just disappeared, thus the need for a new roomy to help pay the rent.
I remember the two vaguely. They were moving in when I was moving out. They were both near me age and the one I talked to was a dark haired sort, the other one was an icy type that was too busy moving in to stop for a wee chat. If I had stayed, I think I would have got a on a treat with the dark haired laddie, because if memory serves he was of Irish American heritage, and an O'Malley he was, Timothy I think he said. Now the other was one of those very light haired redheaded lads, with the washed out eyes and thin sickly build. He never smiled and like I say he didn't give me the time of day. I instantly did not like him.
Well, goes to figure that is the one looking for the roomy, Timothy O'Malley being gone or whatever. I rang up Tonya for more information, like you know how much rent is this guy looking for etc., but she wasn't at home, so I rang up Alison.
As soon as I told Ali I was coming back, me ear drums were shattered by the yelps and shrieks of joy. Once I got me hearing back I told her I was thinking of moving into the same building, and more shouts of rapture. Finally, I got me ear drums clear and asked her not to do that again because I'd be deaf, but I was happy she was happy.
She quietly asked me what apartment was becoming available that I'd be moving back in. No questions on why are you leaving San Francisco, no how's the job, how are you Gabe, nope, nope, nope, none of that. It was what apartment was I moving into. I told her that was why I was ringing, and before I could say anything more, she was yelping again that yes, if I wanted to sleep on her couch I was welcome.
Begorrah me it took some time to talk her out of that! I said I was ringing to ask about the second floor "roommate wanted." There was silence R. Linda, dead silence. I found meself talking into the dead receiver with, "Hello, hello Ali, are you there? Ali?"
Her voice came back in this low whisper as if she was afraid of being overheard. Now mind you, Ali was not out in the hallway where she could be overheard. She told me to hold on while she took the phone into the bathroom where she couldn't be overheard. She even turned the water on and closed the door.
I be asking her why water was running and she tells me it be a precaution, only the shower.
"What precaution? For what? Alison what are you doing?"
She tells me to hush she has to think. I asked what she needed to think about and she told me again to "be quiet please," and then after considerable silence where the only sound that clued me she was there was her breathing, and the running water in the background. Finally she says, "Gabriel, you know I like ya, don't ya?"
Well, all right. I said as much and that I liked her too. BUT what is this all about, this secrecy?
To make a long story short, Alison thinks Timothy O'Malley is residing in Pete Flanagan's freezer. Yes, that's the name of the washed out bloke, and Irishman for sure!
"Wait, he has bodies in a freezer in his room?" I asked rather incredulously.
"Tim was here one day and the next . . . poof!"
There was a dramatic pause and then she continued in a fearful whisper, "I don't want to see that happen to YOU, Gabriel."
OMG. I tried to reason with her that this was all a fancy of her imagination and I was sure she was making too much of this disappearance stuff. Then I remembered who I was talking to. Alison doesn't ever give one the benefit of the doubt, it is always something sinister. She watches too many horror movies.
I decided to wait and ring Tonya later. I could see I would get no useful information off Alison. And no, I will not be talked into sleeping on her couch either, so get that thought out of your mind, because I know it be lurking there.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I rang Mr. McFeeney, the owner of the brownstone where I used to live in Boston. I left a message that if he had an apartment available to please let me know. I would take out immediate rental. Tonya said two chickies have me old place up on top and that made me a wee bit sad it did, but you know the ceiling was a mess and it got hot up there.
She said the second floor apartment below her was looking for a roommate (the second floor has a lot more space and each apartment boasts two bedrooms). Tonya said there were two young guys renting and one just disappeared, thus the need for a new roomy to help pay the rent.
I remember the two vaguely. They were moving in when I was moving out. They were both near me age and the one I talked to was a dark haired sort, the other one was an icy type that was too busy moving in to stop for a wee chat. If I had stayed, I think I would have got a on a treat with the dark haired laddie, because if memory serves he was of Irish American heritage, and an O'Malley he was, Timothy I think he said. Now the other was one of those very light haired redheaded lads, with the washed out eyes and thin sickly build. He never smiled and like I say he didn't give me the time of day. I instantly did not like him.
Well, goes to figure that is the one looking for the roomy, Timothy O'Malley being gone or whatever. I rang up Tonya for more information, like you know how much rent is this guy looking for etc., but she wasn't at home, so I rang up Alison.
As soon as I told Ali I was coming back, me ear drums were shattered by the yelps and shrieks of joy. Once I got me hearing back I told her I was thinking of moving into the same building, and more shouts of rapture. Finally, I got me ear drums clear and asked her not to do that again because I'd be deaf, but I was happy she was happy.
She quietly asked me what apartment was becoming available that I'd be moving back in. No questions on why are you leaving San Francisco, no how's the job, how are you Gabe, nope, nope, nope, none of that. It was what apartment was I moving into. I told her that was why I was ringing, and before I could say anything more, she was yelping again that yes, if I wanted to sleep on her couch I was welcome.
Begorrah me it took some time to talk her out of that! I said I was ringing to ask about the second floor "roommate wanted." There was silence R. Linda, dead silence. I found meself talking into the dead receiver with, "Hello, hello Ali, are you there? Ali?"
Her voice came back in this low whisper as if she was afraid of being overheard. Now mind you, Ali was not out in the hallway where she could be overheard. She told me to hold on while she took the phone into the bathroom where she couldn't be overheard. She even turned the water on and closed the door.
I be asking her why water was running and she tells me it be a precaution, only the shower.
"What precaution? For what? Alison what are you doing?"
She tells me to hush she has to think. I asked what she needed to think about and she told me again to "be quiet please," and then after considerable silence where the only sound that clued me she was there was her breathing, and the running water in the background. Finally she says, "Gabriel, you know I like ya, don't ya?"
Well, all right. I said as much and that I liked her too. BUT what is this all about, this secrecy?
To make a long story short, Alison thinks Timothy O'Malley is residing in Pete Flanagan's freezer. Yes, that's the name of the washed out bloke, and Irishman for sure!
"Wait, he has bodies in a freezer in his room?" I asked rather incredulously.
"Tim was here one day and the next . . . poof!"
There was a dramatic pause and then she continued in a fearful whisper, "I don't want to see that happen to YOU, Gabriel."
OMG. I tried to reason with her that this was all a fancy of her imagination and I was sure she was making too much of this disappearance stuff. Then I remembered who I was talking to. Alison doesn't ever give one the benefit of the doubt, it is always something sinister. She watches too many horror movies.
I decided to wait and ring Tonya later. I could see I would get no useful information off Alison. And no, I will not be talked into sleeping on her couch either, so get that thought out of your mind, because I know it be lurking there.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
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