I was just about to tuck myself into bed, in time for the nightly news, when I heard a faint rumble echo from downstairs. This was not uncharacteristic of the southern regions of my home when (my old roommate) Bernard was living there; but he’d since gone on to a better place. I’m not talking about Heaven. I’m talking about the condominium that he inhabits two miles up the road with those dental assistants. That was a little over two months ago, and the house has been quieter than one of those new hybrid cars ever since; which was why I instantly felt the need to be concerned.
I sleep in the nude, it’s one of the perks of living alone, but I was not about to venture downstairs that way. The last thing I needed was to end up on the front page of the Harris Chronicle, dead, in my birthday suit. So I tiptoed over to the closet and quietly slid the door open. I needed to find something situation-appropriate. I knew that my trendy windbreakers would be too loud, my footie pajamas too warm (if things got heated up), and the belt attached to my robe could easily be used as a sort of strangulation device. So, in all its splendor, I began to walk my naked body down the cold, hard steps; and into the unknown.
Every step was its own obstacle. I found myself struggling to remember where each creak rested as I felt the perspiration dripping down the side of my leg. I could just imagine myself slipping on it, tumbling down the stairs, and being dead before the intruder ever even had the opportunity to bludgeon me to death. Poor guy; what if it was some sort of initiation thing and he had to murder me in order to earn his stripes? Oh well, he was going to have to find another pawn to help him play out his sick game of Checkers.
I took another step forward (down, actually) and accidentally kicked what I could only assume was a spoon. It rang much too loudly to have been a coin; and I instantly recalled having sat there the previous afternoon, having a bowl of peanut butter and wondering what had become of my life. It was just as the ringing of the spoon subsided that another sound came into play; a giggle. It was not the giggle of an imposing and murderous man. It was the giggle of what could have easily been identified as a young child; a young female child. It was at this point that I was certain I’d been caught up in a dream; for there was absolutely no conceivable circumstance in which a young child would have had any reason to have somehow made their way into my home at— I glanced at my, well, where my watch should’ve been; and then I realized that I hadn’t worn one since 1998. I may not have known what time it was, but I did know that it was time to get it on.
“Who’s there?!” I shouted, attempting to assert myself and claim authority over the situation. It was then that my blood boiled at a temperature that would’ve transformed white rice to a golden brown in mere seconds; for my question was answered, by another giggle, but this time there were two. “Let’s just do it already.” was the loud whisper of a man that followed. This was my cue for a preemptive strike. I let out a type of shriek that could only have been matched by Robert Plant himself and darted down the stairs, into the darkness. It was at the exact moment that I stepped off of the bottom stair that the lights when on, and that’s when I heard, “Surprise!!!!!!!!” There had never been so many people in my home at once. I scanned the room, and everywhere you looked were balloons and signs expressing the happy birthday sentiment. I’d been so wrapped up in my work lately that it seemed to have slipped my mind. How had I forgotten? Today was my birthday. How ironic, that I stood there in front of my forty plus friends, in my birthday suit.
Vincent J. Vera
