Story -

Machinations of a Maniac

Machinations of a Maniac

     Unbeknownst to me, an unpleasant surprise awaited me that fateful October morning.
     Perhaps reverberations emanated from grinding wheels applied via defender sans Johnny Cochran forced the general public to absorb disbelief shock from exhausting three-ring media circus (June 1994 – October 1995) deeming o.j. Simpson to strut guilt free from trial.
     I awoke as usual and performed my customary half-hour plus meditation, a shuteye discipline still followed today.
     Before motoring on with the gist of this vignette let me shift gears.
     The then fiancé – one Abby Robin Zison – who spent the night with me at our transitional domicile) immediately raced like the dickens back up the two flights of stairs.
     Like that eponymous bat woman out of hell, she immediately flew back to me after she set foot out the door intent on driving to her job at.
     In a combination of pantomime and words, she attempted to communicate with a modicum of clarity urgent news that required automatic action.
     The driveway within which I parked my car the previous night appeared most definitely to be locked within a chain linked fence.
     The suggestion got made (from this future bride) to confront the landlady, and sternly insist corrective action be taken, lest this storyteller, and his betrothed compromise either of our respective jobs!
Prior to heading off to bed the prior night, I expressed likelihood to said landlord/owner to find another place to live.
     The major reasons for vacating premises?
     Her cigarette smoking ranked (on a par with chimney burning wood at full blast) as the primary source of revulsion.
     Rather than come across as insensitive and/or mean, I simply expressed the honest sentiment at being extremely averse to second-hand smoke from those little cancer sticks.
     Asphyxiation (from those innocent looking wisps of nicotine) nearly found me choking nearly half to death even after putting a towel under the door while additionally keeping the bedroom window wide opened.
     No matter, the twisting tendrils of tobacco found their way into the ole factory nasal cavity of one health-conscious holistic being housed what constituted one deranged dame!
     Another factor fueling fear comprised the nauseating odor of cat urine!
    The litter boxes smelt as if they never got cleaned off the feline fecal matter!
     Upon summoning effort and energy to communicate bona fide concerns, she responded with contempt.
     The insidious wheels of malice began to turn sharply with more danger along the axis of evil.
     She madly paced back and forth across a small patch of uncluttered space in the main foyer all the while no doubt internally plotting some vengeful strategy.
     Castigations, fulminations, and insinuations flew out of her mouth like noxious fumes to leave exit pronto.
     Ludicrous lacerations spewed from this fiery dragon.
     While yours truly soundly slept and dreamt without incident,
she unwittingly drew forth the trappings to concoct some personal vendetta!
     After I washed, dressed and headed downstairs, the malicious scheme hatched out back became a living reality.
     An empty house (Samir, the other occupant left hours earlier) eerily echoed each and every footstep as first than one foot than the other and paused at the second landing (to confirm a strong hunch) that nary a soul could be heard nor seen.
     No zombie-like entity appeared from the “DO NOT DISTURB” sign affixed outside the sleeping area shared with a coterie of felines jumped out ranting and raving obscenities (at the computer screen or phantasmagoric phantom) lurking like a lunatic.
     Nonetheless, I continued to tread down to the lower level with a glimmer of optimism to bolster my heavy mood.
     Perhaps that spare set of keys nearly always left tantalizingly dangling in the unused door latch got carelessly left behind.
     Spirits soared that just as quickly sank into the abyss of my psyche! Guess what?
No such luck.
     Oh, she most definitely took precautions and hid this temptation to make a James Bond getaway.
Well…I stepped outside to assess the situation.
     Blimey!
     A deadbolt found the gate shut tight.
     Mine eyes saw glory re us salvation!
     Ah, a handsaw carelessly got left on a tool chest in plain view.
     This invited an impulse to escape from this perilous hell.
     Prior to acting on the plan, I made a few telephone calls. The first contact made to my employer, thence to the local police in order to file a complaint.
     Upon gently placing the phone back on the cradle, my fingers twitched to busily saw into just one steel link in an effort to break at least one steel bond that shackled my vehicle so this fellow could afford to hightail out of the nefarious nightmare.
     A surge of adrenaline coursed from head to toe, my heart pounded as if it would burst from mine chest and palms perspired profusely with the unexpected arrival of evil incarnate.
     I nervously glanced around anticipating that sinister female form ready to pounce and deliver her violent retribution, which blows from a blunt heavy object, would invariably render me unconscious.
     For better or worse, a kind face of destiny smiled from the countenance of an unseen karma smiled upon my essence as shaking hands madly moved the saw handle back and forth dozens of times until…THE CHAIN BROKE AND SET ME FREE.
     I pushed the fence back, drove the car to the street and refashioned the gate to give the impression no damage took place.
     As I rode off to work, a giddy sensation washed over this driver.
     I could only imagine the shell-shocked of the loony tuned out landlord.

 

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