|
Written and copyright © 2011 by Thomas N. Bulkowski. All rights reserved.
Written: February 2003
Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
Counting Holes
"Get the hell out of here!" Bill shouted. "I'm getting dressed."
"So sorry," Mimi Ho said, but snuck a peak before turning away. Then she swiveled back and looked directly at him. "You still in bed!"
He pulled the covers up, cowering, exposing only his face and two trembling fists, gripping a blanket and hanging on for dear life. He pulled so hard that the blanked came
undone from the end of the bed, exposing his feet. They were gnarled feet, like twisted roots of an aging tree, showing purple veins that pulsed slowly, waiting for death, just like him.
He lay there, day after day, counting the holes on the ceiling tiles until he lost track, and then starting over.
He turned away and stared at the blank wall. "Just let me die in peace." He said it softly, quietly, like walking into an empty stadium and whispering into the void.
No echo, no pretense of the hard life he suffered through each day.
She reached down and grabbed big his toe then yanked. Hard.
"Ouch!"
"You still alive. That mean it's time to get up. Time for exercises. We no have much time." She turned around and faced a cart overloaded with supplies.
He pulled his pillow out from behind him and grunted with the effort of throwing it. He hit her, and the force of the blow knocked her over. He smiled, feeling better
than he had in days. He liked hurting people; it was his favorite pastime, his only enjoyment. He looked around for another weapon.
|
Mimi rolled flat on the floor and crawled forward, to the edge of the bed. She raised her head.
Bill watched the lanky Chinese woman with the unsightly brown mole on her face surface like a whale coming up for air. Beside her head were antennae fashioned
out of fingers, which she wiggled.
Bill laughed. "God you're ugly!"
Mimi gasped. "Bend over and kiss your sweet ass good-bye, Bill." She grabbed the blanket and yanked it off him, exposing the frail body of an eighty-year-old. "Let's go.
We no have much time!" She reached forward and grabbed one of his feet, held it with one hand, and started tickling him.
|
|
"Stop that. You can't get me to laugh." He started fighting, rolling around the bed, yanking his foot, trying to break free from her death grip.
She grabbed his other foot and tickled that one as well.
Bill lunged forward and tried biting her, but she was too quick.
"Stop that!" He started laughing so hard that he gave up all pretense of fighting. He just rolled round the bed, laughing, trying to escape her fingers that
seemed to find his weak spots.
Then she stopped. She stood up and went back to her cart. "We done!"
She picked up a clipboard and checked off his name. "I see you tomorrow, Bill."
After she left, he turned to the ceiling and stared at it. Instead of counting holes, he smiled and started planning what he'd do to her tomorrow.
The End
If you liked this story, please vote for it by clicking
Thanks!
-- Thomas Bulkowski
See Also
- Green Soap. Reading time: 1 minute. This story is about getting a kid to wash his hands.
- Red Truck. Reading time: 1 minute. This story is about what happens to a kid's toy truck.
- That which cannot be said. Reading time: 7 minutes. Lovers discover a common connection between them.
- Twenty at a Time. Reading time: 5 minutes. A CEO steals money and has to repay it in an unusual way.
- What Does Bequeath Mean? Reading time: 5 minutes. A little girls believes she's a princess.
|
|
Written and copyright © 2011 by Thomas N. Bulkowski. All rights reserved. Transfer: A promotion you receive on the condition that you leave town.
|
. If you buy ANYTHING, they pay for the referral.
on 