Chapter Twenty Seven
22nd December
2154hrs
"Chip! What are you doing here? Its ten o'clock at night!"
"Actually, its 9.54pm".
"Chip".
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at him.
"We had this discussion, I don't like that pedantic side of you".
"That's why you dumped me, I get it".
"And yet here you are at nine fifty fo…"
She glanced over her shoulder to see the clock.
"Nine fifty five PM".
"I've had some troubles lately; I just need a good night's sleep".
"And you want to bed down here, is that right?"
"I'm sorry, Jamie, I know its late and I know you're busy and you've probably got yourself a new boyfriend, man, whatever, but please, just this once, I promise".
"Chip, you're begging, I don't like begging".
"Sorry".
"Don't be sorry, just don't do it".
There was a horribly uncomfortable silence between there. Her breath was hot against the chill of the winter night; his was directed into his scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.
"What do you want?"
She asked when she got sick of the silence.
"Just a couch to sleep on".
"I thought you said you wanted a good night's sleep".
She grumbled sarcastically.
"Some strange things have been happening lately, at Autobot City and at my home, I haven't been able to sleep in either place".
"Its my experience that strange happenings tend to follow you about the place, Chip and with that said, what's to say it won't follow you here? And I have to be completely honest with you, Chip; I don't want any type of your strange happenings being anywhere near my house".
Chip looked defeated, and a little disappointed, he began to pivot his chair on the path in front of the steps.
"Look, I have a small house that I've just gotten, its insured but its in need of some work".
She said suddenly.
"It won't be comfortable, it'll be a little cold and drafty, but it might give you the good night's sleep you want".
Her voice softened.
"Let me get the key".
Chip smiled to himself.
"Wipe that grin off your mug".
She called out from somewhere within the front lounge.
Jamie returned within a few moments with a key attached to a piece of cardboard by a rubber band, on a piece of paper was written an address.
"Like I said, it ain't the Ritz".
--
2247hrs
Jamie hadn't been kidding. The place was a dump. It had a series of wooden steps leading up to the house that for intents and purposes should have been condemned years ago. He literally had to forgo his dignity and leaver himself up onto the hand rail and shimmy along until he reached the door. The key was a little stiff in the lock and it took a few jiggles to get it opened. It creaked open and revealed a rather unpleasant looking mess. In the dim light that forced itself from the street lights he was able to see heavy canvas sheets covering blobs of old furniture.
Chip turned and got back on the rail and down towards his chair. He sat himself on the damp concrete that was half covered in long dirty grass. He collapsed his mobility and then with a rather unnatural upper body strength hurled it up towards the door, it landed about 20cm in the house. He clambered back up the steps and then opened his chair again. It was a pretty sturdy design; it was probably one of the few things Wheeljack had created that hadn't exploded on the testing grounds. He wheeled himself towards the power box with the assistance of a torch and threw the mains switch, a humming sound passed through the house and he hoped he didn't blow the place up because of faulty wiring. With some nervousness he switched on the main light and the place showed its true state.
It was just as unpleasant in the light as it was in the dark. He wheeled about the lower floors, unable of course, to get up the stairs, which when he sat at the bottom of staring up at, he wouldn't be too keen to attempt them even if his legs did work. It took him eight minutes and thirteen seconds to make the discovery that there was no inside toilet, and that if nature called him, he was going to have drag himself down the seven rather uneven concrete and wooden steps, somehow get through the long dead grass that ruptured out of the deadish looking earth and pry the handle less door open to get into the outhouse.
Seesh, Jamie wasn't kidding.
Well, he came to sleep, not poop in an outhouse, and if need be, he'd just prop himself up on the porch and let her rip into the bushes.
A rather crass thought, he reflected. He took the sleeping bag out from the pouch that dangled on the back of his chair, and then removed the small pillow. He lay them down on the tiled floor of the kitchen, as he knew fleas couldn't live on tiles. Ants, roaches, spiders, mice, rats, those things could scurry about at any time of the night, but as long as they stayed confined to the part of his body he couldn't sense very well.
When he woke, he was unsure of the time, though realised it'd have to be early morning, perhaps two, three AM. He had a horrid pain in his shoulder and the most awful pins and needles in his right arm. The house was freezing and he rolled uncomfortably onto his back in an attempt to find a more comfortable part of the tile floor to lie upon. There standing above his head was a man. The elderly gentleman was looking down at him and while the expression on his face was not hiding any thought of malice, he did look surprised at his discovery of this man on the floor of his kitchen.
"Um… hi".
Chip stated, looking up.
"Salutations".
The elderly man replied.
"Can I be rude and ask, who are you?"
The man in discomfort asked.
"Why, good sir upon my floor, my name is Bradley Stewarts and I am the owner of this property you have decided to squat within".
His words came with an accent that was too proper to be American but yet at the same time, still carrying a twinge of a Texan.
"Are you sure?"
Chip pushed himself up with sore arms and turned to face the man, well, as much as a man who couldn't stand could face another.
"I'd be so certain as to this fact, young man. I have just came down from the stairs to see what commotion my lady bride was expressing with much hysterics".
The man stood there and then reached into his pocket and removed a fob watch.
"But Jamie said she owned this place… maybe I'm in the wrong house, I did have trouble getting the key in the lock".
"Perhaps you be in the wrong house, and I do not know any woman by the name of Jamie, I know a woman by the name of Jane, a fine woman indeed, and one I would hope with much sincerity to God that one of my sons would settle with her. She would bear many fine grandchildren for me".
The man beamed with a kind of pride.
"Look, I'm really sorry, I must be in the wrong place, I'll get out".
"Oh! That will not do! I have a reputation in this town as a man of generous heart, if but one of my pesky neighbours were to view me casting a man of such curse out into the chill of the winter air, and so close to Christmas! No sir! I will be no such man! I will allow you to stay within my abode until such time as you sort out your proper location and discuss it in detail with this woman Jamie. And come morning, my lady bride, shall cook you a mighty feast of a breakfast to aide you in your pursuits! However, I must lament that there is no way I can assist you up the stairs as I am but an old man with an old and creaky back. There is a couch in the parlour on which you can rest your weary head".
"Oh, no, no, I'm quite fine where I am here. But thank you so much for your generosity. I haven't had much sleep lately".
"This I can note about you, Chip, it is quite evident from the heavy bags you have placed under your eyes. Now, sleep easy, Chip, my guest, I would ask nothing else of you and expect nothing less of the guests I welcome into my home".
The man turned and walked from the kitchen, his footsteps padding softly with a slight click as the heel touched.
"Sleep well, good guest Chip".
He said as he passed through the door way and into the lounge where his footsteps were lost upon the carpet.
Chip lay himself down and realised how embarrassing the situation he was in. He was going to have to talk to Jamie about how he came to be in the wrong house!! And he certainly wouldn't tell Percy or any one else for that matter. He was supposed to be a highly intelligent man, so to screw up with something as simple as getting the right house.
Poor old man, lucky he didn't have a heart attack, he could have died!!
--
Author's NB: I don't know. I've had horrid writer's block on this story. I know where it's going, I just gotta get there. But after this chapter, I've figured out how to sort the stuff out.
Anyway, this was a story a friend of mine told me a few years back. He was kinda drunk at the time when he crashed in an old condemned house. He woke up in the morning and had a conversation with a guy he thought was the owner. There was mention of stairs. When he sobered up in the morning he remembered the entire conversation and noticed there were no stairs, no owner, and no one. The house was totally empty!!
There were other stories going about the neighbourhood about that particular house, it was a little too close to a place called the "Hanging Tree" (you can probably guess why), so yeah, it was the local haunted shanty.