This story was written to fulfill the prompt “2-4 pages written in second-person.
_______________________________________________________
I know you assume that I grabbed the poker from the fireplace and gave that son-of-a-bitch the kind of wapping that he deserved, and that would’ve done the job, but I thought of something even better. Don’t give me that look, he still got his, just not with the rod. Yep, he won’t be trying to get in any fraile old lady’s house again, you bet. He’s incommunicado, d’you understand? A happy resident livin’ at the intersection of Departed, Expired, and Gone. Permanently laid up. You never thought I could do it? Oh, you’ve known me how long now and you still don’t know that about me? I’m always lookin’ out for number one- me- and you should too.
So, like I said, I waited. I had heard him jiggling the lock at the back, real quiet though, like he knew I was a light sleeper. Always have been, too. Old Mama’s the same way, you go to get a little nightcap and she’s there, bolt upright, just lookin’ at you from the bedroom. Thank God she was over at Sharlene’s that night, or it’d have been her down there finding that brute. Her soul would’ve been sucked right out and sent into the sky if she’d seen that man all fitted up in black there in the kitchen. Can you imagine? A wisp of a thing like her coming upon that eight-foot giant with hands like meat mallets? The mind boggles.
I heard on the news that guys like him normally get in with a rock, but he had a tension wrench. I asked Sheriff Pete what it was after. You know a tension wrench? Small and sharp. Use ‘em for all sorts of pokin’ if you want, which I bet he did. Horrible man, you can only assume what he was planning. But that’s how he got in so quick. If I’d had more time I would’a called Sheriff Pete to come blast him from here to kingdom come, but the man upstairs had other plans.
Yeah, Boris was up, too. I had gotten up again- this was like the fourth night in a row, I swear to god- because he wouldn’t shut his trap. You know how he howls for like twenty minutes for just no reason at three in the morning? Stupid idiot. He’s got all those nasty mats from rubbing on the neighbor’s chippin’ lead porch and I don’t wanna touch ‘em ‘cause the doctor said you can get lead that way. I bet he licks the paint there too, the little beast. Do you even know what lead does, though? Oh, it’s a trip. My daughter’s little kid- yeah, Cheryl’s kid- he got lead poisoning a few years ago and they had to put him on the fluid to get the lead out. But he was always a weird one, even before. The kind of kid you think, “Well, at least it ain’t mine,” when you see it, but you don’t tell anyone, you know? Like sometimes when I go over for dinner he’ll be lyin’ there on the floor in front of the door, and after I knock and open it I bash it right into his head. I know, it’s really bad but– hey, that’s what I’ve said too! I’ve said to Cheryl, I‘ve said, “You cannot let your son lay in front of that door anymore! Someday he’ll get hurt!” But she said she didn’t care, just as long as he was happy. Guess it’s thinking like that that got him all weird in the first place. Oh, but I shouldn’t say things like that! My own little daughter’s son. It’s gotta be his daddy. Definitely not comin’ from our side! Anyway.
I had actually thought about tossin’ Boris out the window when he woke me up that night, I was so goddamned tired of his wailing, but then I hear him go all quiet like when he smells something. Yeah, he made that creepy slurping noise with his nose, I know, it’s horrible. It’s like he’s gotta work to vacuum up the smell. I don’t know what to to tell ya, he has to be gettin’ up there, but so are we, so who’s to say? He rolled off the end of the bed and was snuffling all around the door, so I leaned on the walker to let him out the room and crawled back into bed. But then I hear him making the noises again- this time the slurping and the screaming all mixed together- and mind you at this point I’m teetering on the edge like, I’m gonna end him right there and then. So I get up and I put on my socks and I’m walkin’ to the door all slow and sleepy-like when goddamned Boris decides to go silent. I just about lose it at this point, I’m tired like nobody’s business from the two extra nightcaps I had before bed and I’m pushin’ the walker down the hall so I can whoop him when what do I hear but that little scritching noise from the man at the door.
You bet your ass I stopped dead in my tracks! I thought it was a rat and I was horrified havin’ heard about all these monster rats people have livin’ under their sinks. That man had me thinkin’ there’s one down there with Boris, who’s pretty much the size of a monster rat himself, hopin’ he could hold on ‘til I got situated in the lift and made it down there. Then I hear the towel I put in front of the door- just cause that handsome weatherman Johnny Swingman said it was gonna get a little cold tonight- I hear it slide across the linoleum and I knew something was goin’ on. I’m standin’ there, just listenin’, and I hear Boris give a yelp. A yelp! Boris never yelped in his entire goddamn life except for right then and there and that’s when I realized that I was gonna have to get my whuppin’ stick.