At the End of a Long, Dank Hallway

  • by jenWe have a ghost, you know.
  • for a few ostentatious minutes
  • “A kidnapper?”
  • though it was badly damaged
  • my bunkmate has malaria

Tune in next time part 231                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

At the end of a long, dank hallway, Esmerelda pressed her eyeball against a retinal scanner and a thick metal panel slid open. The room beyond had black velvet covering every surface, including the floor. Our footsteps were silent as we entered.

The room was lit only by a spotlight that was focused on a raised platform — an island of black velvet in a sea of the same. Upon that platform, which was most likely a bed, lay the nude forms of my father and an Asian woman. Her black hair blended with the velvet, giving her head the unsettling appearance of being incomplete. She coughed.

My father sat up and grumbled, “I think my bunkmate has malaria. Get me a different girl.”

Esmerelda shoved me forward, hissing, “Tell him no more whores!”

When I was a child I had a good relationship with my father, though it was badly damaged through the years by his reckless behavior. Would he listen to me now?

“What’s this?” my father demanded when he caught sight of me. “A kidnapper?”

“No such luck, old man,” I said. And then I stood there while, for a few ostentatious minutes, he stomped around on the bed, bellowing about respect, neglecting to cover his nudity, waving his arms all around. The Asian girl rolled herself onto the floor and stood up. I was relieved to see she did in fact possess an entire head.

I gave Dad some time to tire himself out and work through the familiar first act of his usual tirade. When he finally paused for breath, I said, “We have a ghost, you know. A ghost of a chance of getting you out of here alive. Viscount Arlo is in league with the Contrarians.”

“Arlo?”

“You know, the bald Svenborgian with the eye patch.”

All the hair on my father’s body stood up. I know because he was still naked. “That guy is such a dick,” he said. “I don’t know what your mother ever saw in him.”

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