I must warn you. This story is a bit dark...and at a couple of points maybe a bit gross. Read on, if you dare. Mike
Hate to Wait
Dan Curley woke at 6:00am, just like every
morning. It was very important to him to
keep
a consistent schedule because everything works better when you’re
consistent. This particular morning he
felt rather crappy. He’d been out
drinking with clients the night before, and he’d had at least one too
many. He was hungover, his head
throbbed, and his mouth was sticking together, but he got up. He forced himself.
He sat on the side
of his bed in his boxer shorts, rubbed his face, and looked around. His wife was still asleep. She lay there, breathing deeply, and smiling
with contentment. Most men would think
this a good thing, and would leave the little woman alone, but not Dan. It ticked him off! If she were still asleep, he would have to
wait for his breakfast.
Dan got off the
bed and began to rummage around. He
banged a few drawers and threw some shoes loudly into the closet. He bumped into the bed and knocked some
pictures off of his wife’s curio table before she finally stirred.
“Mornin’,” she
mumbled.
“You finally
awake?”
“Yeah, I guess
so,” she replied with a yawn.
“Good,” he
said. “You better get movin’. I don’t wanna wait for breakfast.”
“I know. I know.
No waiting for Big Dan.”
“Don’t call me
that! You know I hate that!”
“You hate
everything, Dan.” With that she scurried
out of the room.
A few moments
later, as Dan pulled together the last of his clothes for the day, he heard the
toilet flush and his wife’s footsteps heading for the kitchen. This was good. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait for breakfast
after all.
As he stepped out
of the bedroom toward their only full bathroom to take a shower, he saw the
door close. Kristen, his
sixteen-year-old daughter, had beaten him in.
This really honked him off! She
took forever in the shower and spent what seemed like an eternity in front of
the mirror. Lately, she’d made it her
goal in life to beat him to the shower in the morning.
“Kristen, let me
in first. I’ve gotta go to work.”
“Sorry, Pops. Beatcha again.” She replied.
“Guess you’ll just hafta wait.” A
little giggle leaked through the crack around the door.
She wasn’t coming
out. She’d beaten him and he would have
to wait. He hated to wait. He hated lines. He hated waiting rooms at doctor’s
offices. He hated anywhere where he had
to wait. Of all the things that Dan
hated, he hated waiting the most, but wait he would.
He rubbed his
face, again. His head was beginning to
pound. He hated hangovers, too. The night before, he’d taken two prospective
customers to Bambi’s Palace, a strip club on the other side of town. Despite the fun time Bill and Ron, the
customers, thought he was having, he hated that too. Oh sure, he liked the girls. He liked to look at their bodies and lust
over their youthful figures. He got his
jollies just like most other men. He
just didn’t want to be there with those losers.
Outwardly, Dan gave the impression that he really liked these
fellows. He laughed at their stupid
jokes and looked at their stupid family pictures. He made them feel special. All the while, he despised them.
He did it because
it was his job. He was a salesman for an
industrial supply chain. He traveled a
territory and did the wining and dining routine. He put on the smiling face, but he hated his
job too. It felt like waiting
tables. Dan hated to wait.
Rather than stand outside the bathroom, he busied
himself with preparing his necessary supplies and clothes for the next few
days. He was going to be on the road for
the better part of the next week. Hotel
rooms would be his home, restaurants his kitchen. That suited him just fine. His wife was a nagger, and her cooking left a
lot to be desired. The one thing in life
he seemed to enjoy was being away from his family.
Kristen finally
emerged after almost a half an hour and Dan pushed past her as she came
out. He gave her a sour look and
grumbled about how long she’d taken. He
jumped right at it and was completely showered and shaved in less than fifteen
minutes. He had this routine down to an
art. As he came back out, Kristen ambled
back in. She wasn’t even close to being
finished.
Kristen didn’t
speak much to her father. She knew that
he didn’t really like her. He never
spoke to her unless she’d done something that he especially disapproved
of. He never took an interest in her
education or her sports. He didn’t know
who her friends were. She felt alienated
from him and she resented him for it.
Dan went
downstairs and his day got worse. The
breakfast wasn’t ready. Jan, his wife
had burnt the toast and spilled the eggs on the floor. She’d started over. He had to wait, and he hated it.
“You’re such a klutz,”
he said.
“Thank you,
Sweetheart. You’re such an
encouragement,” Jan replied.
“Just hurry
up. I need to get going.”
Jan said nothing
more. She finished up the second
breakfast that she’d fixed for him that morning and sat it in front of
him. Then she wandered off into the
family room to watch a morning news program.
She was just as alienated from Dan as her daughter. She used to love him, about a million years
before when he had been young, handsome, and very sweet. Now, that sweetness had turned sour and she
was biding her time. She wouldn’t leave
yet, but leave she would. As soon as
Kristen was grown and on her own, Jan would move on. She needed this awful man at the moment, so
stay she must, and stay she would. She
didn’t mind waiting.
Dan finished
breakfast, loaded his car, and left without a word to his wife or
daughter. He just hopped in and sped
off. He thought life was better in the
car. He was away from his ball and
chain. He popped a couple of aspirin
without water (He thought chewing them made him tougher.) and headed south.
He needed gas, so
he pulled into the Food-n-Fill. His
frustration immediately resurfaced because of a line at the pump. He would have to wait. After a few grueling minutes, he finally
reached the pump and started to fill his tank.
He couldn’t get the pump to work, and as he stood there looking
dumbfoundedly at the nozzle, a voice sounded over the intercom.
“You have to
prepay,” the voice said.
“What?”
“You have to
prepay.”
He mumbled some
crude words to himself as he trotted off toward the attendant.
Most people didn’t
have to prepay, only Dan Curley. Julie,
the attendant, had been the target of several of Dan’s outbursts and she went
out of her way to make his life difficult.
She knew he had very little choice for fuel. The only other station in the area was five
miles in the other direction. If he was
in a hurry, and he always was, he would have to come in the Food-n-Fill.
When Dan got
inside, his pressure gauge registered a new high. There were four people in line ahead of
him. He stood there, waiting, rocking
from foot to foot for nearly ten minutes before he finally got Julie’s
attention.
“Come on! I’m in a hurry!” he nearly shouted.
At that, Julie
slowed down.
“Oh, sorry,” she
lied. “I’ve gotta change the receipt
roll in the register. It’ll only a
minute.”
She loved to see
him squirm. She felt a particular
satisfaction if she could force the veins in his neck to stand out. They were way out this morning. Steam was practically puffing out of his
ears. He paid her and mumbled some
obscenities as he rushed out the door.
He’d get her back. He didn’t know
how or when, but he knew he would.
He pumped his gas
and got back on the road. As he merged
onto I-65, his frustration level returned to its normal level, which is a few
notches higher than most every one else.
He had 200 hundred miles to go and only three hours to do it in. He had to buzz, but that was his normal mode
of operation anyway.
Ten minutes into
the trip, traffic halted and Dan popped his first gasket of the day. He began to cuss out loud and wave his arms
wildly. He honked his horn. He cursed the windshield. He had to wait. He hated to wait.
When he got
himself under control, he turned on the radio and learned that there had been
an accident about a mile ahead at the mouth of a new construction zone. This would be slow going.
Eventually,
traffic began to move just a bit and Dan began to try to improve his position
in the line. He darted in front of
traffic moving up on his left. Then,
moments later, darted back into the right lane as it began to move. He gave a guy in a red Camaro the finger,
when the guy took exception with his horn to one of Dan’s more daring
moves. They exchanged some more
pleasantries and then were separated by the moving traffic.
The balance of his
day was much of the same. He reached his
first appointment twenty minutes late and had to wait to see a man that he
could have seen right away, if he’d been on time. He had to wait fifteen minutes to get a table
at lunch. He had to wait another half an
hour for a new customer who had taken another salesman into his office just
before Dan came in. This especially
frustrated him because he was on time and the other guy didn’t have an
appointment. Of course, he just stuffed
this because, after all, this guy was his customer.
He reached his
hotel after having to wait forty-five minutes for a table at dinner. It seemed that was all he had done all
day. Wait, wait, and wait. He hated to wait. The front desk attendant was sorting some
papers.
“I’ll be right
with you, Mr. Curley,” she said as she looked up. She’d recognized him. How could you forget someone as disagreeable
as Mr. Daniel F. Curley of 1173 Freemont Court, Mandalay, Indiana 47775? Thank you very much!
“You’ll be with me
right now,” he demanded.
“Yes, sir.” She said and dropped her papers. Unlike Julie at the Food n Fill, Fran needed
her job. She couldn’t afford to displease
even a client this nasty. Her boss just
wouldn’t understand.
“I want that
corner room again. The bigger one with
the double beds, smoking, of course.”
“I think that one
is taken, Mr. Curley.”
“Look, you homely
little high school reject! I want that room. Do you understand what I’m tryin’ to get into
that little brain of yours? Huh?”
“But, Mr. Curley…”
“Don’t ‘but’ me
sweetheart! I don’t care what your
excuse is, just get me what I want, and I don’t want to wait another minute for
it. NOW!”
“Oh, I’m
sorry. I was mistaken.” Fran was near tears, but she refused to show
it. She wasn’t mistaken, of course. The room was already spoken for, but that
party hadn’t arrived yet. They had to be
more reasonable than this jerk.
“Of course, you’re
mistaken. You’re a walkin’
mistake.” Dan wouldn’t let up.
Fran couldn’t hold
it in any longer. Her eyes began to tear
up and her mouth to quiver. She held it
together long enough to get Dan checked in and then began to cry bitterly.
“Oh, by the way,”
Dan said, as he began to walk away, “Make sure that you inform your stupid
little housekeeping pests not to come in my room if the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign
is on the door.”
“Yes, sir,” she
struggled to say.
“Don’t screw that
up,” Dan continued. “Last time it was
ignored and I was woken from a dead sleep for a stupid nighttime turn
down. If you screw that up, I’ll have
you fired! You got that?”
“I’ve got it.”
Dan didn’t realize
that that last instruction was the worst mistake he’d made all day. Oblivious to the events that were to
transpire in the upcoming hours, he headed for his room.
“You know, you’re
just not a nice man,” a small woman, also a guest in the hotel, offered her
assessment. “I suspect one day you’ll
regret that.”
“Who pulled your
chain?” Dan asked, and went on to his
room.
He opened the
door, placed the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the outer handle, and pulled his bags
inside. Finally, he could relax. No more ignorant clerks. No more slow-minded, speed-deficient
waiters. He could kick back, watch TV,
and not have to think about anyone else but himself for the next eight hours or
so.
He heard a
buzzing. Looking around, he let out some
more crude words as he realized he was not truly alone. A housefly had entered with him, and he
followed it around the room with his eyes, annoyed at the extra trouble. He’d have to find another hotel the next time
he came here. Between the incompetent
help and the flies, the place was going to the dogs. He rolled up some work papers into a
makeshift fly swatter and chased it around.
He couldn’t catch and kill it, but he cornered it in the bathroom and
locked it in.
Dan undressed to
his boxers, pulled back the covers, adjusted the room temperature, and turned
the tube to HBO (hoping for something that showed a little skin). Now that he had the room adjusted, he
accessed the whiskey bottle that he kept stored in his duffel bag. As he pulled it out, a small bottle of
tranquilizers slid out.
“Oh, well.” He
said, “I might as well. It’s been a
tough day.”
Popping a few
pills, he chased it down with the whiskey.
He poured another glass of the stuff and lay back on the bed. Oh, how nice it felt to just zone out! It would be more perfect if it weren’t for
the slight tightness he felt in his chest.
He might have been concerned, but it had been a long day. He was just really, really tired. He sipped some more whiskey and then closed
his eyes for a few seconds.
A short time
later, out in the hallway, Maria began the nightly task of turning down the bed
covers. Maria was a good worker but not
all that bright. She sometimes neglected
to pay attention to the signs hanging on the doors. She had walked in on several embarrassing
situations. Most people didn’t complain,
and those who did, Fran would pamper until they were satisfied.
After Dan had
checked in, Fran had to take a few minutes to gather herself. By the time she had, more customers had
arrived and she had gotten herself swamped with check-ins. She nearly forgot to warn Maria about Mr. Curley. Realizing what time it was, she panicked,
darted around the counter and sprinted down the hall.
Fran rounded the
corner just in time to see Maria knock on Dan’s door.
“Maria, no!” she
screamed.
Maria jumped and
spun around. She looked like a child
caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Oh, Fran, you
scare me to death,” she said with her unusual accent. “Why you not want me do my job?”
“I do, Maria, just
not that room. Come on. Let’s get back around the corner before he
opens the door.”
Inside, Dan heard
the knock and opened his eyes. Anger
welled up and coursed through his veins.
He would have both the maid’s and the desk attendant’s jobs before the
night was over!
In the two seconds
between the knock and when he opened eyes, several thoughts flashed through his
mind: That little dipstick maid was
trying to get in to turn down his bed.
He would get her and that stupid clerk fired this time. He was a good customer. He deserved better treatment than this. He was in the sales business and he knew good
service when he experienced it. He
wasn’t experiencing it now. No, this was
last straw, the one that broke the camel’s back. He would get them. He wouldn’t wait until morning. He’d get up right now, and finish the job.
He tried to yell
at the door. He couldn’t.
He tried to get
up. He couldn’t.
He couldn’t
move. He couldn’t turn his head. He couldn’t speak. It was like his brain, while aware of
everything around him, had forgotten every motor skill. He couldn’t even move his eyes. He could see, but only straight-ahead, and he
could hear. That was all.
His sudden anger
just as suddenly turned to terror. What
was wrong with him? Did someone drug
him? Was he in some kind of coma? His mind was racing, trying to get a grip.
He tried to force
a word, a sound, a grunt. Anything! Nothing would come. He tried to move his little finger. Nothing!
His little toe. Nothing,
again! Panic overwhelmed his mind, and
he blacked out.
Out in the lobby,
Fran and Maria were leaning on the check-in counter and discussing the jerk in
the corner room. They were both thankful
that Fran had intervened when she did.
Both wished that Mr. Curley would change hotels in the future.
At home, Jan and
Kristen enjoyed a nice evening together.
They ordered pizza and rented a movie on DVD. They curled up together on the sofa, more
like friends than mother and daughter, laughing and enjoying an evening of peace. Both blurted out wishes that Dan wouldn’t
come back. Both claimed to be
joking. Both were lying.
Some time later,
he woke again. He was flat on his
back. He could see light flashing off
the ceiling from the TV that he’d left on for company. The volume was low, so he could only hear
murmurs.
It must have been
a dream, he thought. He had to go to the
john; his bladder was full, so he tried to get up. Again, he couldn’t move! Again, he tried to scream for help and
nothing came out! Again, he panicked and
blacked out.
When the night
shift clerk came in at 11:30, Fran warned him that Mr. Curley was in the hotel.
“Oh, no. Not him, he’s such a horrible dude.” He said.
“At least he’s
asleep when you’re here.”
“Yeah, well,
sometimes I’m still here when he checks out in the morning.”
At that, Fran
wished him luck and left for the night, free of the fear that Dan Curley would
come screaming out to the counter to complain about some minor
inconvenience. “Ya know, if he died
tonight, it wouldn’t be too soon for me,” were her parting words.
Jan and Kristen
had gone to sleep. They always slept
better without Dan at home. It was just
so much more peaceful.
When he woke for
the third time, he knew it wasn’t a dream.
He was immediately aware of his predicament, and started looking for a
way to get help. That line of thought
didn’t last long because there wasn’t anything he could do. He would have to wait for help to
arrive. He hated to wait.
As he lay there
looking at the same spot on the ceiling, he became aware of his other
senses. He realized he could hear so
many little things when not distracted by looking around, and he tried to pass
the time by deciphering each sound. He
could hear the TV and people passing in the hallway.
Then he could hear
smaller things. He could hear the hum of
the combination heater/air conditioner and the wind blowing past the
windowpanes. He could hear his
Swiss-made watch ticking on his wrist.
He could even hear the fly buzzing around in the bathroom.
The one thing that
he suddenly realized he couldn’t hear was his heart. Surely, if he could hear watches ticking and
flies buzzing, he ought to be able to hear his own heart.
A wave of renewed
concern swept over him, and he wanted so much for that sweet little maid to
walk in on him now. She was such a cute,
innocent little girl, if only she would realize that she had forgotten his
room. He began to wish it with great
intensity and longing. He wished it so
hard that he hoped he could make it happen.
He wanted to see her beautiful face more than anyone else’s in the
world.
Buzzing.
The buzzing of the
fly was getting louder, and louder, and louder.
It was out. It wasn’t trapped in
the bathroom anymore. It had gotten out
somehow. But, how? He knew that he had latched the door. Maybe, it crawled under, or maybe there were
two. Buzz, buzzzzzzzzz. It was irritating him, penetrating his mind,
and driving sharp needles into his brain.
Just when he thought he would lose his mind completely, it went quiet.
It was on his
nose. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t even do that cross-eyed thing and
look at it. He could only feel it. It was a little tickle on the tip. Oh, he wanted to brush it off so bad! Then he could feel it moving around,
exploring the oil-filled pours of his skin.
It was probing him for tiny morsels to devour; and when it found one, it
would puke on it and suck it back up. He
had to get it off! He couldn’t take
it. Inside he was screaming, but outside
he was as calm as a cool, spring morning.
The fly moved down
over the end of his nose, and fluttered around on his upper lip. It flew off briefly and then landed on his
eyeball. Dan watched the dark form
scamper here and there; unable to even blink to drive it off. Drawn by its instincts, and since there
didn’t seem to be any apparent danger, the insect moved into Dan’s right
nostril. His whole body was on
fire! He could feel it moving around
inside his nose. It was probably laying
eggs. He began to mentally plead with
God: Oh, God! Please help me! Please!
I’ll do anything, just please help me!
Finally, he blacked out for a third time.
The young man
behind the hotel counter finished the third chapter of the hot, new novel he’d
just picked up. There wasn’t much to do
but wait for morning. Then again, he
wasn’t in any hurry, he didn’t mind waiting.
Jan was dreaming
that she was on a pleasure cruise to some Caribbean island, alone. No, she wasn’t alone. She had a man with her. It was a different man, a new husband.
Kristen was
dreamless. She was simply resting,
cuddling an old, tattered teddybear.
Dan awoke to
buzzing again. This time so loud, it was
blowing his eardrums. It was too loud to
be the fly. It was the alarm, and he
couldn’t turn it off. It just buzzed,
and buzzed, and kept buzzing.
At least he
couldn’t feel the fly anymore. It must
have finished its business and moved on.
When he got out of this, he would have to have his doctor take a long
look inside that nostril. He didn’t want
any maggots crawling out of his nose.
Oh, the buzzing! Please stop the buzzing!
The bladder that he wanted to empty earlier was now
at total capacity. Worse yet, he now had
to take a bowel movement. He couldn’t
move anything else, but his bowels could move themselves. He soiled his bed, and his bladder
released. A weird combination of
humiliation and relief swept over him.
The buzzing
finally ended.
He lay there for
another hour, and watched the light gradually increase in the room as the sun
came up outside. It was morning; his
rescue was close at hand.
He vowed to
change. He would be a different
man. He would love his wife and his
daughter. He would be kind, patient, and
even friendly. He would leave tips and
open doors for people. Oh, his life
would be different. He would change.
Suddenly, he
sensed the presence of someone else in the room. He hadn’t heard the door. How did he get in without his being aware of
it? He couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t see him. He couldn’t even smell him, but he knew he
was there. He didn’t know how, but he
knew. Then, just as suddenly, he could
move.
He felt the power
flow back into his body, and he lifted his arms and looked at them. He sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed
his face. Finally, he looked over and
witnessed the spectacle of the presence standing in front of his window.
He couldn’t see
the face. It was hooded under a black
cape. There were bright red eyes peering
at him from the darkness, and an odd, thin tongue flickered in and out of the
light. The cape hung down and covered
all but his hands and his feet. The
hands were bone white with long, slender fingers and blood red nails. The feet were hooves like those of horses or
cattle.
“Hello, Dan
Curley. I am so sorry to keep you
waiting,” said the being with a hint of sarcasm.
“Who, uh, who are
you?” Dan’s fear was evident in his
voice.
“Me? Oh, I am your humble escort.”
“Eh, eh, escort?”
He stuttered. “To where?”
“Oh, I think you
know.”
“I don’t think I
want to go anywhere with you.”
“Well, I get that
often. But, you do not actually have a
choice in the matter. You see, you have
a meeting with your Maker, and He does not like to be kept waiting. No, no, no.
He does not like to wait at all.”
Dan stood to
run. Maybe if he made it to the door, he
could make this thing go away! As he
turned, he looked down and saw feet still in his bed! He spun and saw his own face staring up from
the pillow!
“What’s going on?”
he demanded.
“Oh, you are a
dense one, are you not?” was the escort’s reply.
“Am I dead?”
“Now, your eyes
are opening. Come now let us go. It is time for your appointment.”
A white, slender
hand extended out, caught Dan by the neck, and pulled him in. The cloak enveloped him, and a feeling of
overwhelming dread came over him.
“By the way, if
you liked last night’s accommodations, just wait until you see your next
room! Ah, but you don’t like to wait, do
you Mr. Curley? Well, that is fine. There will be no more waiting for you. No, your time has arrived.” They left together, as the escort bellowed in
laughter.
At home, Jan and
Kristen woke rested and with an unexpected renewal, eager to face the future.
No one ever missed
Dan Curley.
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