Providence
formerly known as: Untitled (6)
Mrs. Tarintino likes Officers Kimbell and Greenly. She thanks them for taking me out, and for bringing me home. She offers them food (biscuits/cookies) and drink (hot cocoa, coffee, or tea), and they both refuse to take up the offer. I drink a small cup of cocoa in hopes that it would help my throat. Officer Kimbell's voice drops a few decibels and he discusses something with her in low tones that I can't, and don't bother, to make out. She looks over at me - the object of attention, and the obvious conversation piece - and gives a sad, little smile.
"You look exhausted," she proclaims. Then, she comes to me in a few, big strides. She takes the cup from my hands and sets it on the table. "Come now," she ushers me out of her place and up the stairs, "You really need to get to bed."
I don't argue. I don't have the strength to. It takes everything I got just to climb the stairs and they're not even that steep. My head is swimming by the time we reach the fourth floor. I don't even recall what happens between then and my floor, but suddenly I realize that I'm being eased down. Mrs. Tarintino tucks me in, and my eyes instantly shut.
---
When the morning comes, I'm still asleep. I sleep in until the early afternoon. Mrs. Tarintino wakes me by giving me breakfast in bed. She greets me by saying, "Did you sleep well, dear? I made you your favorite: blueberry pancakes with butter, and maple syrup." I still have no idea how she figured out that was my favorite. I never told her, and she still figured it out. It must be the fabled "women's intuition" I've heard of.
I carefully sit up and give a grunt as a response.
"Come on, now," she goes on, "I know your appetite, Mr. Vegeta. Eat up."
She does know. She's seen me when I'm "hungry". And, even though she doesn't announce her plans, I know that she intends to stay until I finish my meal. I do not have the resolve to be stubborn, so I merely pick up the fork and begin to eat.
It's delicious. I only come to realize how famished I was when I start to eat. It doesn't take long before the plates are empty and I'm ready for more. Mrs. Tarintino collects the dishes and picks up the tray. She pauses on the way out to tell me, "Get dressed and come on downstairs for another helping. Bring your dirty laundry with you, will you? That's a lad."
I take my time, but eventually follow her instructions.
"Your breakfast is probably cold by now," she tells me when I come into the kitchen. She doesn't say it accusingly, and she doesn't say it like she's scolding me. It's not like she's disappointed; she just wants me to know.
It tastes just as good, even though it's at room temperature.
I realize that she's staring at me. I look up with one eyebrow raised. She has this warm, content expression on her face, as if watching me eat gives her a good deal of satisfaction. Maybe it does, but I know that's not what her smile is about. She suddenly chuckles, and gives her head a small shake, "Oh, Vegeta..." She addresses me informally, so I know she isn't going to ask me to do anything for her. She stuns me by saying, "You're such a looker."
Heat creeps up my neck and floods my face. I have never taken a compliment well, especially one about my...appearance. I give a pathetic little laugh ("eh-hEh") and leave it at that.
"Well," she speaks up again and changes the subject, "You're going to have a new neighbor today. Another poor suicidal soul like yourself. I think her name is Josie."
Dear Kaioshin in Heaven, please do not let this train of thought continue where I think it is heading.
"I think she should be here soon, in fact," says Mrs. Tarintino too casually.
Derail! Change tracks! Something! Anything!
There was a knock on the door, as if this had been pre-staged. "Stay right here, I bet that's her," the old lady basically commands me, "I'm sure she'd like to meet you."
Forget changing tracks and grab hold of that third rail!
Mrs. Tarintino opens the door and releases a giddy croon, just like the one she gave me when I was first escorted to her door step. "Hello, my dear!" she says cheerfully, "Do come in! We were just having breakfast. Please, take a seat!" She guides a young woman into the kitchen and into a chair at the table. "Josie" hesitantly accepts it, but doesn't look like the one to protest.
She has dirty blond hair, very straight, tied back into a ponytail. She wears corrective lenses so she can focus on things within a short distance from her. She's pale, but not gothic white which is unattractive. Well built (not gangly) with a rather healthy look to her..she's actually kind of... comely.
Mrs. Tarintino begins to create a plate for the poor girl and takes this opportunity to divert the attention towards an innocent victim: me. "Josie, this is Vegeta," she introduces us for us, "He'll be your neighbor on the floor above you. If you ever need any heavy lifting done, he's your man."
Josie glances upward at me, but keeps her head bowed as she speaks softly, "Hello, Vegeta."
Argh! That old woman knows how much I hate meeting new people! Quickly, I cram some food into my mouth. "Vegeta?" Mrs. Tarintino looks at me, "Won't you be polite and say hello?" She sets the plate down in front of the new girl.
"Canf tawf," I say, "Mouf if full." She reaches over and smacks with her wooden spoon.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, and don't eat to avoid talking to Josie."
Old hag...always making me do things I hate to do. Vegeta, help me tote the laundry, will you? Vegeta, could you take out the trash? Because it's a bit heavy for me. Vegeta, come meet the new person to the building. Vegeta, stop trying to kill yourself! Vegeta, are you listening? Put the knife down, right now! Vegeta! Don't make me count to three!
"Vegeta..." her voice is almost like a dark rumble crescendoing up to warn me that if I don't say something, there will be some sort of Hell to pay.
"Hi, Josie," I manage to spit out. Then I give her a toothy grin as I say, "I'm an ex-homicial maniac. Or at least, we hope so." I duck to the side to miss Mrs. Tarintino's wooden spoon. I think I moved a bit too fast, as she stares at me with a very confused expression on her face, as if to say, "You moved, but I don't recall seeing you do so."
"We?" Josie quietly questions from her position in the chair, "Are you a MPD?"
"A what?" I ask in reply. Now I'm just about as confused as Mrs. Tarintino.
"MPD. A multiple personality disorder," the young lady explains, only now daring to actually look at me for more than a second.
"No," I shake my head, "Why did you think so?"
"You said 'we hope so', so I thought that maybe.." her voice grows more and more faint towards the end of her sentence.
"Oh. No. I meant we as in Mrs. Tarintino and I. I'd imagine that you probably hope I'm not a homicial maniac also. Sorry for the confusion, but I'm in here because I want to die," I love being blunt with the new people. It usually makes them shy away from me. Josie flinches as I proclaim my reason for having an apartment in this building, but she doesn't say anything further.
"Enough!" the land lady interjects, "Vegeta, stop being so rude and help Josie up to her room when she's done with breakfast, will you? She has quite a few items to carry. Thank you." I know she phrased it and spoke it like a request, but she did not ask me to help out - she made another demand.
It isn't long before we're heading on up. I sling all of Josie's bags over my shoulders and trudge up the steps. Josie follows me rather reluctantly. "T-Thank you," she nearly whispers. We get to her room and she talks to me without looking at me, "I..appreciate your help. ..Thank you. Very much."
"Hey," I try to grab her full attention because the floor seems to steal most of it, "It's nothing against you personally. I just..don't like meeting new people. People don't like me, so I don't like people."
"I think you're nice.." she struggles to express herself.
"Even though I told you I was an ex-homicial maniac?" I ask. She nods. "Good," I respond, smirking, "Because I wasn't lying. I really have killed people. Many people."
"Oh.."
Might as well get this over with now. I don't like it when people get attached to me. They come and go, but I don't. And they never, ever, come back.
"I masturbate every time I get really depressed."
She actually looks at me this time. Probably due to shock.
"I have good weeks and I have bad weeks. Highs and lows. I have just entered a low."
"So..." her face is completely red by now, "How do I know if you're screaming because you're killing yourself or if you're screaming because of....you know.."
"Because I'm jerkin' it?" I ask a bit too happily. I feel like a bastard to embarrass her like this. Well, I guess someone ought to be embarrassed here, but it sure as Hell isn't going to be me. She nods, probably not trusting herself to speak at the moment. Hmm..I have one of two choices. I could lie or tell the truth. I could tell her that there is no difference, but...
"I curse up a storm when I'm about to cum," I don't. I tell her the truth.
She merely nods again. Her whole body looks like it's blushing, and she seems very interested in the door frame (that is away from me in the opposite direction).
"Hope I don't keep you up at night," I say offhandedly as I get back on the staircase.
formerly known as: Untitled (6)
Mrs. Tarintino likes Officers Kimbell and Greenly. She thanks them for taking me out, and for bringing me home. She offers them food (biscuits/cookies) and drink (hot cocoa, coffee, or tea), and they both refuse to take up the offer. I drink a small cup of cocoa in hopes that it would help my throat. Officer Kimbell's voice drops a few decibels and he discusses something with her in low tones that I can't, and don't bother, to make out. She looks over at me - the object of attention, and the obvious conversation piece - and gives a sad, little smile.
"You look exhausted," she proclaims. Then, she comes to me in a few, big strides. She takes the cup from my hands and sets it on the table. "Come now," she ushers me out of her place and up the stairs, "You really need to get to bed."
I don't argue. I don't have the strength to. It takes everything I got just to climb the stairs and they're not even that steep. My head is swimming by the time we reach the fourth floor. I don't even recall what happens between then and my floor, but suddenly I realize that I'm being eased down. Mrs. Tarintino tucks me in, and my eyes instantly shut.
---
When the morning comes, I'm still asleep. I sleep in until the early afternoon. Mrs. Tarintino wakes me by giving me breakfast in bed. She greets me by saying, "Did you sleep well, dear? I made you your favorite: blueberry pancakes with butter, and maple syrup." I still have no idea how she figured out that was my favorite. I never told her, and she still figured it out. It must be the fabled "women's intuition" I've heard of.
I carefully sit up and give a grunt as a response.
"Come on, now," she goes on, "I know your appetite, Mr. Vegeta. Eat up."
She does know. She's seen me when I'm "hungry". And, even though she doesn't announce her plans, I know that she intends to stay until I finish my meal. I do not have the resolve to be stubborn, so I merely pick up the fork and begin to eat.
It's delicious. I only come to realize how famished I was when I start to eat. It doesn't take long before the plates are empty and I'm ready for more. Mrs. Tarintino collects the dishes and picks up the tray. She pauses on the way out to tell me, "Get dressed and come on downstairs for another helping. Bring your dirty laundry with you, will you? That's a lad."
I take my time, but eventually follow her instructions.
"Your breakfast is probably cold by now," she tells me when I come into the kitchen. She doesn't say it accusingly, and she doesn't say it like she's scolding me. It's not like she's disappointed; she just wants me to know.
It tastes just as good, even though it's at room temperature.
I realize that she's staring at me. I look up with one eyebrow raised. She has this warm, content expression on her face, as if watching me eat gives her a good deal of satisfaction. Maybe it does, but I know that's not what her smile is about. She suddenly chuckles, and gives her head a small shake, "Oh, Vegeta..." She addresses me informally, so I know she isn't going to ask me to do anything for her. She stuns me by saying, "You're such a looker."
Heat creeps up my neck and floods my face. I have never taken a compliment well, especially one about my...appearance. I give a pathetic little laugh ("eh-hEh") and leave it at that.
"Well," she speaks up again and changes the subject, "You're going to have a new neighbor today. Another poor suicidal soul like yourself. I think her name is Josie."
Dear Kaioshin in Heaven, please do not let this train of thought continue where I think it is heading.
"I think she should be here soon, in fact," says Mrs. Tarintino too casually.
Derail! Change tracks! Something! Anything!
There was a knock on the door, as if this had been pre-staged. "Stay right here, I bet that's her," the old lady basically commands me, "I'm sure she'd like to meet you."
Forget changing tracks and grab hold of that third rail!
Mrs. Tarintino opens the door and releases a giddy croon, just like the one she gave me when I was first escorted to her door step. "Hello, my dear!" she says cheerfully, "Do come in! We were just having breakfast. Please, take a seat!" She guides a young woman into the kitchen and into a chair at the table. "Josie" hesitantly accepts it, but doesn't look like the one to protest.
She has dirty blond hair, very straight, tied back into a ponytail. She wears corrective lenses so she can focus on things within a short distance from her. She's pale, but not gothic white which is unattractive. Well built (not gangly) with a rather healthy look to her..she's actually kind of... comely.
Mrs. Tarintino begins to create a plate for the poor girl and takes this opportunity to divert the attention towards an innocent victim: me. "Josie, this is Vegeta," she introduces us for us, "He'll be your neighbor on the floor above you. If you ever need any heavy lifting done, he's your man."
Josie glances upward at me, but keeps her head bowed as she speaks softly, "Hello, Vegeta."
Argh! That old woman knows how much I hate meeting new people! Quickly, I cram some food into my mouth. "Vegeta?" Mrs. Tarintino looks at me, "Won't you be polite and say hello?" She sets the plate down in front of the new girl.
"Canf tawf," I say, "Mouf if full." She reaches over and smacks with her wooden spoon.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, and don't eat to avoid talking to Josie."
Old hag...always making me do things I hate to do. Vegeta, help me tote the laundry, will you? Vegeta, could you take out the trash? Because it's a bit heavy for me. Vegeta, come meet the new person to the building. Vegeta, stop trying to kill yourself! Vegeta, are you listening? Put the knife down, right now! Vegeta! Don't make me count to three!
"Vegeta..." her voice is almost like a dark rumble crescendoing up to warn me that if I don't say something, there will be some sort of Hell to pay.
"Hi, Josie," I manage to spit out. Then I give her a toothy grin as I say, "I'm an ex-homicial maniac. Or at least, we hope so." I duck to the side to miss Mrs. Tarintino's wooden spoon. I think I moved a bit too fast, as she stares at me with a very confused expression on her face, as if to say, "You moved, but I don't recall seeing you do so."
"We?" Josie quietly questions from her position in the chair, "Are you a MPD?"
"A what?" I ask in reply. Now I'm just about as confused as Mrs. Tarintino.
"MPD. A multiple personality disorder," the young lady explains, only now daring to actually look at me for more than a second.
"No," I shake my head, "Why did you think so?"
"You said 'we hope so', so I thought that maybe.." her voice grows more and more faint towards the end of her sentence.
"Oh. No. I meant we as in Mrs. Tarintino and I. I'd imagine that you probably hope I'm not a homicial maniac also. Sorry for the confusion, but I'm in here because I want to die," I love being blunt with the new people. It usually makes them shy away from me. Josie flinches as I proclaim my reason for having an apartment in this building, but she doesn't say anything further.
"Enough!" the land lady interjects, "Vegeta, stop being so rude and help Josie up to her room when she's done with breakfast, will you? She has quite a few items to carry. Thank you." I know she phrased it and spoke it like a request, but she did not ask me to help out - she made another demand.
It isn't long before we're heading on up. I sling all of Josie's bags over my shoulders and trudge up the steps. Josie follows me rather reluctantly. "T-Thank you," she nearly whispers. We get to her room and she talks to me without looking at me, "I..appreciate your help. ..Thank you. Very much."
"Hey," I try to grab her full attention because the floor seems to steal most of it, "It's nothing against you personally. I just..don't like meeting new people. People don't like me, so I don't like people."
"I think you're nice.." she struggles to express herself.
"Even though I told you I was an ex-homicial maniac?" I ask. She nods. "Good," I respond, smirking, "Because I wasn't lying. I really have killed people. Many people."
"Oh.."
Might as well get this over with now. I don't like it when people get attached to me. They come and go, but I don't. And they never, ever, come back.
"I masturbate every time I get really depressed."
She actually looks at me this time. Probably due to shock.
"I have good weeks and I have bad weeks. Highs and lows. I have just entered a low."
"So..." her face is completely red by now, "How do I know if you're screaming because you're killing yourself or if you're screaming because of....you know.."
"Because I'm jerkin' it?" I ask a bit too happily. I feel like a bastard to embarrass her like this. Well, I guess someone ought to be embarrassed here, but it sure as Hell isn't going to be me. She nods, probably not trusting herself to speak at the moment. Hmm..I have one of two choices. I could lie or tell the truth. I could tell her that there is no difference, but...
"I curse up a storm when I'm about to cum," I don't. I tell her the truth.
She merely nods again. Her whole body looks like it's blushing, and she seems very interested in the door frame (that is away from me in the opposite direction).
"Hope I don't keep you up at night," I say offhandedly as I get back on the staircase.