The Bucket

Art rose and faced upstairs, the dustpan and its yolky contents in his left hand and a messy brush in his right one.

The sound of footsteps was getting closer, and a short man clasping a folded shopping bag appeared. Ralph Meier—Janitor Meier's son and her resident spy—greeted him cheerfully. "Hey, Art."

"Morning, Ralph."

They had talked before. Ralph worked at some bank, and he usually wore a suit and a tie and was armed with a briefcase, looking all lower-echelon clerkdom. But today he was dressed in jeans and a fake-felt padded jacket.

The man stopped and scrutinized Art's tools with a gnomish smirk. "What are you doing with these?" He stopped on the bottommost step of the stairs, which placed his gray eyes on a level with Art's.

"Cleaning. Someone dropped an egg here."

"Oh, did they?" Ralph viewed the smeared egg-remains smeared over the floor. "And they didn't bother to clean up?"

"Nope."

"Hm, I wouldn't put it past some people here to do that." He gave Art a grin and winked.

Art shrugged. He didn't want to be dragged into the man's speculations of who might be the perpetrator.

Ralph glanced at the door leading to the janitor's apartment. "Well, I'll need to discuss this affair with my mother, later. But let me tell you one thing." He lowered his voice and moved closer to Art, who took a step back. "Some things have got to change in this house."

Art raised his eyebrows, waiting for the man to continue.

"My mother will talk to the owner, about some of the people here..." Ralph whispered. "But now I've got to go shopping." As if to prove this wild statement, he raised his shopping bag and shook it in before of Art's face. Then he tiptoed over the mess on the landing. "See ya later!" he said, now looking up at Art. He nodded, then he turned towards the exit.

"Bye." Art waved the brush after his neighbor, but it was a vain gesture since it was directed at the back of the man's head, which was covered by undulated, dark hair that thinned out towards the apex. The hairdo was strangely reminiscent of Mrs. Meier's coppery waves, except for the near-baldness at its top. Art briefly wondered if it was a perm. Then he realized that his brush was dripping egg goo onto the floor. He quickly held it over the dustpan.

After removing all traces of egg from the floor, retreating to his apartment, cleaning the dustpan, trying to clean the brush, and showering, he finally opened his fridge to prepare himself a fine breakfast. Originally, he had planned for scrambled eggs, but after this morning's adventures he decided on a box of instant muesli instead.

He sat down at the table in his tiny kitchen and glared at the pinboard on the wall beside it. It held a brief shopping list (milk, fruit, microwavables) and the roster Janitor Meier had bestowed upon him when he had moved in.

The roster. It outlined his duties of today. 'Sweep stairs & clean staircase windows,' Mrs. Meier's handwriting was precise. He hadn't done any sweeping yet, just egg removal. And he had completely forgotten about the windows.

With a sigh, he unpinned the shopping list and added the words 'window cleaner' to it.

As he was about to leave the apartment, he heard voices from beyond his door. One of them was Mrs. Knooch's rasp, the second one was a younger woman's. He hesitated, unwilling to face the turtle again—she might have more chores for him in mind.

The sound of a closing door stopped the babble. The footfalls of someone walking the stairs ebbed away.

He consulted the spyhole and found his landing deserted. Quickly, he left his apartment and descended to the ground floor. There was no one in sight. The bottom landing was egg-free, so Knooch should be happy for now.

He heard a key being inserted into the lock of the front door.

Oh my, another one of my neighbors.

But the young man entering wasn't anyone Art had seen before. And he had seen all of the tenants, or at least he thought so.

"Hey." The stranger's smile showed a set of dazzling white teeth in a tanned face. He looked like someone from a magazine—tall, muscular, handsome. His blond hair was cropped short at the sides of his head but was longer and gelled at its top.

The sight took Art by surprise. The stranger would blend in perfectly on a California beach, but he looked so out of place in this house. "Er... hello."

"Oh, don't be alarmed." The man's smile grew even broader. "You must be my Aunt's new neighbor. I'm Jake."

"Art." Art wondered if he should shake hands with him, but Jake held a bag in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other.

"Yeah, groceries." Jake shook the full bag. "I'm my aunt's grocery delivery man."

"Ah, I see." Art had a hard time placing the dashing guy as a relative of the turtle.

Jake stepped aside to let Art pass. "Please." His key-hand motioned toward the open door. "I'll lock up behind you."

"Thanks." Art nodded and stepped out. "Have a nice day."

"Same to you."

The door banged shut behind Art.




To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Dan

Disaster has struck at Dumstreet 9. (FYI: Dumstreet 9 is where I live.)

An egg! Someone left a broken egg in the staircase! In a puddle of its goo. I don't know who it was, but I think that investigations by the local authorities are underway (the authorities being the janitor, assisted by her grown-up son Ralph).

And guess who had to clean the mess away? Yes, that was me. My neighbor, that elderly lady I wrote you about, rang me out of bed early in the morning, dragged me down the stairs, and nearly pushed my nose into the yolk. Just because it's my turn to sweep the stairs. She made me feel like a felon caught in the act.

Did I tell you that she looks like a turtle? But then, I guess, growing old may not be that easy. I wonder if I'll end up all turtlish, too.

TBH: I find it hard to interact with my neighbors—they are weird... and foreign. But then, the foreigner here is probably me, and I guess they think I'm the weird one.

Best

Art



He reread the mail, then sent it off with a violent tap onto his laptop's trackpad. It left his finger tingling.

What a place, what tenants, and what a day!

Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top