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y0lk-114
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y0lk #114: "true love #1" by kreid
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Charles Grennon was lying in his bed, awake, just as he had been for
the past thirty-three hours. Up until a few seconds ago, he had been
spending each of these thirty-three hours in a complete haze, or in complete
clarity, he couldn't decide which. But now, thirty-three hours and 3.66
seconds later, he had broken this streak of hazeclarity. Some noise which he
could not yet place had startled him.
Ring
Charles was beginning to feel the staleness that had grown around him
in the past thirty-three hours and now 7.32 seconds. This short period of
stagnation had only emphasized the aura of immobility he had earned from the
twenty years of stagnation in his life preceding it. There was a thickening
crust of some unknown origin that had settled upon the skin of his entire
naked body. Sweat on his back had caused him to sink into the blanket
beneath him. He didn't really feel hot at all, just sticky. Actually, he
felt a bit chilly at that moment, and wished he had tucked himself into his
expensive bedsheets before entering his thirty-three hour trance.
Ring.
Charles reached blindly at his expensive nightstand and grabbed a
half-empty fifth of scotch and drank the whole thing in one quick motion.
The alcohol didn't take very long to hit him, and soon he felt like he would
be safe for a short time until it wore off. He was all out of booze, though.
That was unfortunate. Something would have to be done about that.
RING.
The impact of each noise, which appeared to be occurring precisely
every 3.66 seconds after exactly thirty-three hours of nothingness, flew in
and out of Charles's mind just like he remembered everything else did before
he ever went into the trance. This absence of mind left Charles quite
excited every time the noise came, but then afterwards, somehow, lost. But
never confused.
RING!
Charles heard the word and spelled it out in his head.
"are-eye-en-gee, ring", he uttered, and smiled as if he had just won a
spelling bee. It is actually a really odd word, ring, if you think about it.
But then, pretty much all words are odd when you think about them enough.
RING!!
"are-eye-en-gee-en-eye-are-eye-en-gee exclamation point. en-are-gee,
energy. onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten." Charles was becoming
delusional, spurred by this mirage of knowledge which had landed in his mind.
RING!!!
And just then, Charles Grennon experienced a moment of complete
clarity, like he had never felt before in his life. For one short moment,
Charles knew exactly what he was supposed to do.
"Hello, Grennon Residence," he spoke, in a very polite
salutation-tone.
ring...
Charles had forgotten something, but he was satisfied with his
action. He got out of bed to get dressed. Standing up made him a bit dizzy.
rrriiinnnggg...
"Time to go to work," announced Charles, cold and naked. He walked
out his apartment door and into the hallway. The door locked behind him. He
didn't seem to notice. A muted, hopeless sound droned on inside the locked
apartment.
(ring)
Charles decided to stand outside the door for a few more minutes
before going off to work. He felt a little tired. He leaned his bald head
against the door of his apartment and fell asleep. "Just for a couple
of minutes," he whispered to himself.
(ring)
A quite average-looking woman opened the door across the hallway from
where Charles was sleeping. "Oh, God, Charlie," she spoke. This phrase was
spoken just loudly enough to wake Charles up. "It's freezing out and you're
sleeping naked in the hall." She said it as if Charlie didn't even know what
he was doing, and he resented that. In fact, it got him quite a bit pissed
off.
Charles turned around 90 degrees to face the woman. She was
definitely average-looking. She was wearing her daytime clothes: a T-shirt
and jeans, both of which accentuated the averageness of her figure. Charles
couldn't figure out if she was wearing make-up or not; if she was, it must
have been average make-up. But just looking at her long enough to identify
her was enough to get Charles excited, which this average woman could plainly
see. She watched him grow and pulsate right there in front of her and
neither of them were even mildly surprised by it. She turned around and
walked back into her own apartment, unimpressed. In fact, she was so
unimpressed that she decided to leave the door open on her way in. Charles
took advantage of this and followed her into her apartment, where he wrapped
his arms around her from behind and attached himself to her at the hips.
The woman, Carol was her name, made love to Charles the way a mother
would spoon-feed a toothing child. The whole sexual event was really not
anything worth mentioning; it seemed to happen in a moment's time, and was
forgotten by both of them as soon as it was over. Charles rolled off her,
they kissed deeply, and then stared into each other's eyes for what also
seemed like moments, but was probably something more like ten minutes. Each
of them thought the same thing as they lay there, eyelocked:
- I am in love. -
This thought hit them about sixty seconds into the eye-staring
contest. After that, they both zoned out for the other nine minutes or so.
Charles and Carol were both gifted with the ability to sleep with their eyes
open.
The actual time was 11:04 P.M. The phone had stopped ringing back in
Charles's apartment. Elsewhere in the city they lived in, two million people
were drinking, talking, fornicating. It was Friday night. Charles sat up on
the bed.
"You know, I've always loved you, Carol." He noticed her name was
printed on the cheap little wreath outside her door as he said this. He
confessed this to her in an unexpected tone of sobriety.
"Do you really mean that?"
"Yeah. I've always felt something for you, and I never knew what it
was until now. I know you think I'm an idiot, and I know it doesn't help for
me to be opening up to you like this, but I think we were meant for each
other."
Carol smiled emphatically, as if she had just been licked on the face
by a cute little puppy. Her only reply to Charles's statement was some kind
of high-pitched purring noise. She curled up under her bedsheets,
passionately hugging the blanket and pillow. She rarely felt like this.
Nobody ever talked to her the way Charles did.
Charles stood up and leaned over the bed to deliver a small but very
loving kiss to Carol. Her face was mostly covered up from cuddling with the
bed and burying herself in her soft pillow, so he just kissed her on the
cheek, silently, and lovingly. She looked very warm there. Incredibly
content. Charles was, for some reason, very happy to see her that way, and
it made him feel a bit warm, too. But it wore off very soon. It was still
cold in the apartment, and he was still naked. He silently, and lovingly,
walked outside her bedroom and into the little kitchen-area of her apartment.
The first thing he saw when he walked into the kitchen was a
familiar-looking cedar cabinet above the refrigerator. He pulled it open and
found one beautiful fifth of scotch, just like the empty one on his expensive
nightstand, except this one was full and unopened. He silently, and lovingly,
pulled the scotch out of the cabinet, then closed it. Then he grabbed the
spare key to his apartment, which he always left with Carol, out of one of
the kitchen drawers. With these two items, he strolled out the still-open
door of Carol's apartment and let himself into his own. Inside his own
apartment, he took one large sip of the new scotch, then set it on his
expensive nightstand, and lay his naked body on top of the sweaty spot of his
blanket. And precisely 3.66 seconds later, he was entranced again, right
where he wanted to be, alone indefinitely, and completely silent until the
next disturbance in his life should arise.
