wildheart4vr
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Current Resident/Collaboration
Awhile back my boyfriend and I were exchanging humorous ideas about Current Resident in regards to the junk mail that comes to everyones home addressed to Current Resident. The first story that follows is my attempts to put together some of the ideas that we threw around and add my own flair to it. The second story that follows is a collaboration attempt by myself and another creative soul on another creative forum I belong to.
Current Resident
A mysterious being that lives in our house day in and day out, we receive mail for this person. The mail accumulates in various piles throughout the week. On Monday the day I choose to thoroughly clean the house I gather at least a half a trash can of mail addressed to this curious individual
It never shows its face instead it chooses to take on an anonymous role within the confines of this structure.
Makes me wonder though when I enter a room and notice something slightly askew that wasn't in the manner I once left it, if current resident has been about while I have been absent from the house.
To give an example, the water on the kitchen floor that was not there when I left to run an errand that has suddenly appeared when I arrive home. Or the remote controls that takes little legs and moves themselves somewhere when I swore I set them down in a particular spot.
The mail man tells me I have to accept mail for Current Resident; I grudgingly take its mail wondering why it never comes to the mail box to get its own mail. The boyfriend and I think we should start charging it rent, but it is never around to discuss these things with. So it continues to exist here without responsibility and reason to share in any of the day to day operations of running the house.
I wonder how many other Current Residents exist in our midst that are not paying rent and eating our food, and using our utilities. Ponder that.
©2006 by Wildheart4vr
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Current Resident Collaboration
I know this may be wild accusations even at best wild guesses but Miss Heart knew there have always been mysterious beings among us. When the forest got thin, and the tree few there weren’t many places they could hide anymore. So they got—civilized, domesticated like all wild animals do. Hiding out in homes—little people of sorts that can’t be seen in the shadows; bored of what they feel is a meaningless life. Often whenever a chance would arise, they would do something, like taking a small bucket of water—dump it on the kitchen floor. Coming back from running an errand Miss Heart found herself standing in a small pool of water; then suddenly realize they were hiding in some corner watching, watching and laughing their asses off. But like the outer realm has a way of showing itself. This lady was on to them. Keep getting mail addressed to the current resident; always a dead giveaway some other resident is around. Frustrated they weren’t paying their share of the utilities, or for that matter freeloading by not helping out with the rent. You know the types—freeloaders! That in itself not being enough, they’d flip a light on in the middle of the night and not turn it off. She knew it wasn’t just her being forgetful. She’d look in the cupboard and they’d be torn open food containers where they’d helped themselves. Think—mice my ass. No mouse with any sense of one's own proper dignity would go off in a corner; not take a dump right next to where they just ate. She’d walk into a room and notice something slightly askew that wasn’t in the manner it was before. So she started to carry around a small insect net, seemed to make sense. They were nothing but blood sucking mosquitoes walking around on two legs. Give-um a change and they’d be sneaking into her bedroom while she was asleep. Stick a little needle in her leg; fill their glasses, knock them together, toast to their victory. Wasn’t going to happen. She was on to them. Leave the remote controls in one place and it would seem to take on little legs and go off some place when she’d turn her head. You know how it is; I’m sure it’s happened to you. She started yelling at them and told them if they were going to be around—at least be useful. Help clean up the house. They were like any unwelcome guest who thought they were family; thought they ought not to do anything. Her boyfriend thought she was crazy talking to someone that wasn’t there. For a while things seemed to quiet down a bit until she went and checked the mail. Surprised to not find no current resident mail. In fact nothing at all when she reach clear to the back. Pushed up against what wasn’t there and then heard a voice.
“I live here but I do not know who you are. Alas others do. So please collect my mail and I will read it later.”
Shouting in the box she screamed, “Okay! I know you’ve been hiding somewhere. Now pay up! Two years back rent! Hand it over!”
Then a soft voice inside, “Talk to the others who know who I am.”
“You’re not fooling me. I think you’re working with these other guys trying to sell me something.”
It’s voice sudden like coming from another side of a deep tunnel. “Contact them.”
“So they’ve going to pay your back rent?” Waits for a while for a reply.
“No but they’d also like some money.” Pauses, “ Contact them.”
“Oh I’ll contact them alright. I’ll tell them the Current Resident doesn’t live here!”
“You can’t do that.”
Pauses,“Why not?”
“You’re the only current resident that anyone knows; lives here. They’ll think your crazy.”
Pissed she screams, “I’ll show you crazy! I’ll tear your head off!”
“You won’t do that.”
Clams down being curious, “Why not?”
“You’re the only current resident. You can’t tear off the head of what only exist in your mind.”
Bewildered, “Oh? I never thought of it that way. Well? Can you at least contact these people and tell them to stop sending me mail?”
“I can’t do that.” Pauses, “ I don’t know you.”
She notices something, “Alright hold everything! I just saw one with butterfly wings. I got to. Get my net.” Picks it up lying on the ground next to her. Hears a distant voice as she runs off.
“Okay do what is current in your mind. But I’m never leaving.”
Lost in her own world, “Oh look what a wonderful butterfly. Got you!” Turns around and goes back to the mailbox and looks inside, “Okay where did you go Current Resident? I still want to talk about this mail stuff with you.” Shouts, “Where did you go? Talk to me?” People walking by stop and start staring at her and she becomes self-conscious. “ Darn this always happen to me. I get so confused. Oh? I just remembered it’s Sunday. He doesn’t get any mail today.” Then notices her boyfriend walking up the driveway toward her.
“Come dear. You’re having one of your episodes again. Come home and take you meds. You’ll feel better soon.” And takes her by the hand.
She gets ferocious and tries to pull away from him, “No! I tell you my meds won’t make this Current Resident go away.”
“Here we’ll just unbolt this mailbox and put it in your net. There you go now. We’ll just take him inside of the house with us.”
She looks around as if she’s looking for someone. “He won’t get any mail in there? Will he?”
“No dear. None at all. He’ll just go away.” Leads her toward the house.
She smiles, “Thank you. It’s about time someone did something. This whole affair is driving me crazy.”
“I know dear. I know more than you’ll ever know.”
“I know you think I’m crazy. But I tell you he talked to me.”
“I know dear.” Then unknown to him the unseen little guy slips threw a hole in the net and jumps on his shoulder whispers in his ear and he repeats what he hears. “ It was the Current Resident.”
© 2006 by Merlyn Hearn and Wildheart4vr
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Be Your Best, Do What It Takes, Have What You Want!!!
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You can achieve your personal best!! |
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May/29/2006, 11:14 pm
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Merilun
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Re: Current Resident/Collaboration
Gee golly whiz this is wonderful stuff. Reminds me of the guy with straw coming out of his sleeves, flying monkeys, a broomstick, and a bucket of water to make it melt away. Sounds like this collaborator is one donut drunker with his hat on straight. The two of you guys write anything else? Sure could use something to wash it all down. A good stuff drink sounds good right about now. I was walking Red home and this guy jumps out of the bushes with long teeth, long ears, and asks if I got some change. Scared the wit-so out of me. Ah—what little I have left. So I ran over to granny’s house to hide out. Sure hope he didn’t follow me. Hold on someone’s knocking on the door. “Do the three little pigs leave here?” Dah I don’t think so. –closes the door-- Man that was crazy. That was the same guy. Only this time he was warring granny’s underwear. Now how strange is that?
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May/31/2006, 10:22 pm
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The F0NZ
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Re: Current Resident/Collaboration
quote:
Merilun wrote:
Gee golly whiz this is wonderful stuff. Reminds me of the guy with straw coming out of his sleeves, flying monkeys, a broomstick, and a bucket of water to make it melt away.
PML!!!!!
To be honest that is a really clever way of writing, the narrating comes across as almost script-like in its deliverance, but yeah I found it really enjoyable. The rest of the writing shows some serious skill, not to mention I chuckled several times throughout, and laughed out loud twice!
"I wonder how many other Current Residents exist in our midst that are not paying rent and eating our food, and using our utilities. Ponder that. " PML!! I'm pondering as i type....
--- "Aaayyh! check out FWU" |
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Jun/1/2006, 7:26 am
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Merilun
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Re: Current Resident/Collaboration
Gee The F0NZ! Aaahyh—hew! Excuse me I think I got a little Popsy up my noise. I’m just cutting up some ham. Just looking forward to all those happy days. How come every time I see you, you got your thumb up in the air? You looking to hitch a ride? Not—too—cool nowadays. Some people out there make that other guy I was talking about warring granny’s underwear look like Tinker Bell. If-in you know what I mean. Heck I was just talking to a small buddy of mine who said he was just sitting around minding his own business when some guy came by banging on the door demanding to be let in. He told him to go away. The guy got all pissed off and blew his house down and tried to make bacon bits out of him. Skill? Yeah I got some skill. Let me see now. Got a skill saw. Does that count? I feel I got to let you on in a little secret. Okay. Since you seem to have your hat on straight. I’ll give you a clue. Merilum is old middle English from Anglo-Norman means Merlin. Take at look at that collaborator’s first name and see if you can figure who I am.
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Jun/2/2006, 3:50 am
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Merilun
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Re: Current Resident/Collaboration
Dernier cri and rhapsodize Wildheart! Makes the Wiz feel like taking his fizzle whistle straw out of his mystical effervesce diet soda and wave it in the air and say, “Stizostedium vitreum!” Have a walleyed wiggle fish burger materialize with coconut seasoned seaweed fires. Then wolf it all down while watching a tequila sunrise; not even aware of the fizzy tingles in his magical toes stuck in the sand on some beach somewhere with nothing but blue water, coconut trees and Hula girls.
Just a minute someone is knocking on the door.
–opens door—A clean shaved fellow with fur on his noise is standing in the doorway hanging on to strings of different colored floating party balloons, and a rectangular box with a clipboard on top of it. Raises his eyebrows, grins and said, “Congratulations you’ve just won a twenty-five-year-old box of chocolates!” --holds out the clipboard-- “Just sign here on the dotted line and give me a check for fifty-three dollars and eighty cents for taxes, handling and promotional fees and I’ll give you your free prize.
“I already give at the office.” –slams the door shut—
How strange is that? It was that same guy; only this time warring a pig skin hat with slits on the sides for his pointed long ears, golden locks of hair hanging from the ban and a large turkey feather sticking out the back; sporting a bear skin coat and Rocky Raccoon wingtips shoes. As if that wasn’t ridiculous enough a full marching band was standing behind him.
© 2006 by Merlyn Hearn
All rights reserved
“The great events of life often leave one unmoved; they pass out of consciousness, and, when one thinks of them, become unreal. Even the scarlet flowers of passion seem to grow in the same meadow as the poppies of oblivion.”-- Oscar Wilde; Irish Poet, Novelist, Dramatist and Critic, 1854-1900
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Jun/6/2006, 7:47 am
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