Mr Lonely Man
Mr Lonely Man
RPG ~Ebozo, Kabri, and Nonamegoddess
03-13-2006
RPG ~Ebozo, Kabri, and Nonamegoddess
03-13-2006
Ebozo:
Keerist, that wind is brutal!
Normally, he watched this building for ten minutes or more, looking for any sign of life before chancing an entrance, but tonight he had found no vantage point to shield him from the wind, and after only a moment or two he had slipped in quickly.
It had been a long time, and although some small changes were obvious, it was pretty much as he had remembered it. The main thing was that although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, there was something about the plact that seemed more subdued.
Oh, well, on with it. Business first, so to speak.
A half pot of coffee, still warm enough so that a few minutes heat would do. He turned the switch on and headed for the refrigerator. Oh, man! colcannon, beef stew, cheesecake. Jackpot!
Quickly to the cupboard. Yup, paper plates and cups, plastic utensils. I love this place. He slipped a knife, fork and spoon into a pocket, took two cups and a plate, and closed the cupboard.
Over to the wastebasket. A good-sized paper bag, and look - two beef stew cans. OK, so it wasn’t home made. It’d do, and the cans were a great find. He’d put them on an open fire with the stew in one and colcannon in the other.
He went to the sink and washed out the cans, then to the refrigerator, where he half filled one can with stew and the other with colcannon. A three inch square of inch deep cheesecake went into a paper plate and was quickly covered by another plate. Two paper towels wrapped around each can provided covers. Imperfect, but they’d do. The cans went into the bottom of the bag, one on another, and the plates went on top. He’d carry a cup of coffee, which would at least keep one hand warm.
A speedy tour of the work area was next. Someone had left a heavy sweater draped over the back of a chair. He wanted it, but his rule was to take as little as possible of anything still useful to the current owners. He would scrounge, but did not consider himself a thief.
Several cubicles now had prints of big eyed urchins and jesters. Must be a fad of some kind.
Two of the wastebaskets were topped off with birthday wrapping paper and ribbons. Well, they wouldn’t stay there long if she came. He wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but he hoped a little that she would.
His heart nearly stopped! Whew... Just mannequins. Wonder what they’re doing here.
Back to the coffee pot. He had long ago learned to like his coffee black, and needed nothing but the cup, which he filled to within an inch. Any more and it’d slop over onto his fingers as he walked in that wind.
A quick check of the bulletin board to see what the latest items of interest were. Hmm. Irish quotes. “I’m troubled, I’m dissatisfied. I’m Irish.” Hah! Try being jobless and homeless.
Pictures of people measuring themselves. Head to toe; hand to hand, arms outstretched; nose to fingers - What the Hell is that?
Wow! The corner that had been reserved for political items was now used for recipes and pictures of animals. Must have been some personnel changes.
OK, let’s go. He went back to the counter, picked up the bag and coffee cup, and headed for the door. Halfway there he stopped and shook his head. Getting old. He returned to the counter, turned the coffee maker off, and retraced his path to the door. Holding the bag in the crook of an arm to free a hand for the coffee cup, he turned the knob, opened the door an inch or so, took a quick look, and was gone.
Kabri:
Standing in the shadows, alone, naked... waiting, she watched him arrive. He hadn’t been here in a long time, and tonight he was a little earlier than ever before.
As usual, he headed to the coffee pot. She watched him flip the switch on and head to the refrigerator.
“Please... Please... Notice Me!” her mind cried out to him.
He went to the cupboard, took out some things and put some in his pocket... the rest he carried with him to the waste basket. There, he removed a crumpled paper bag and two empty cans. After washing the cans, he went back to the refrigerator and started putting some stuff in them.
“Please... Take me with you!” her heart cried.
She knew she wasn’t much to look at... a broken toe... and all sorts of defects that had made her unsuitable for this business.
He was now putting everything from the refrigerator into the paper bag. She watched him make a quick tour of the work area... then he went back to the coffee pot and poured some coffee into a cup.
“Oh... Mr Lonely Man...” (She had called him that ever since he had first coming here), “I will keep yu company... I...” her thoughts stopped there. She knew as she watched him pick up the bag and the coffee that he was leaving and she would never see him again... for tomorrow, she would be put in the dumpster... (she had heard them talking earlier)... the end to all chipped, peeling, and broken mannequins.
She watched as he slipped out the door... a single crystalline tear appearing on her cheek.
“Good Night and Happy Dreams,” she sighed into the blast of cold air that hit her just before he closed the door.
Nonamegoddess:
What’s This? He asked himself as he pulled a scrap of newspaper from a cold, hard foot. His heart skipped a beat just before he realized it was only a mannequin. She’s pretty and the thought occurred to him that she reminded him of Belinda in a way. He loaded her onto his cart, looked around for the missing hand, and finally decided to move on without it. At least he found those old, lacy nightgowns in there, so she would have some proper attire.
Closing the door behind them, he wiped her down with a clean rag, warming up to the thought of finally having some company in this cold, empty house. He positioned her in the dining room, near the window, pulled the gown over her naked form, not realizing that he was prattling on to her as if she understood. She almost seemed to be coming alive with his touch, though he was sure it was just the imaginings of a lonely old man.
Something still wasn’t right. He slowly walked upstairs and stood at the door that had been Belinda’s door while she was alive, then took a deep breath and opened it. A bottle of nail polish, a little makeup, and a wig. It had been so long since these things had seen any use.
Hours later, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. She did look much better now than she did when he found her. “Good night, Belinda,” he whispered as he turned out the lights and headed for bed then stopped, halfway to the stairs when the lights flickered back on for one short, sweet moment, then back off again.
Nodding his head in understanding, up the stairs he went.
Posted in memory of a very happy day
♥
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