The reluctant I, "The Doyle"

THE DOYLE

When waking up with a start like this the first thought that crosses your mind is: I don’t remember my name.  This has to be a dream… a very vivid and visceral dream.

But it does not feel like a dream.

The room is dark save for a lone bulb dangling from the ceiling.  There must have been something in the drink from the party. What was it? Possibly a Jegerbomb? Maybe a Scooby snack? Bad Cheese? What ever it was only one conclusion can be drawn. Somebody slipped me a Mickey. Must have been a good one too, judging from the fact that worry and concern are the furthest of thoughts at the moment. 

The light above the table sways gently.  A slight amount of dusts flutters down from the cracks in the water stained ceiling tiles.  The whole place smells old and the air tastes like death; In fact this whole place looks like a scene out of every building inspector’s nightmare.  Every time the light sways towards a wall bugs flee in terror. Mold and mildew seem to be trying to eat the walls. Vague noises of vermin and other pests sound from all around the room. 

The light starts swaying a little more as shoe steps grow closer and closer. All attention is focused on the door as even the pests become silent. The rusty doorknob slowly turns and the old door creaks open and you know what? It sounds just like one of those fucking creaky doors in a movie! After years of hating on that sound the irony is not lost in the situation.

An old Nazi looking guy comes and looks over the room. All kidding aside, somewhere along this fucker’s bloodline his relatives torched some Jews. He walks like a Nazi, he slicks his hairs like a Nazi, he even breathes like a Nazi. He looks down over his horn-rimmed glasses and smiles. For a dude that looks so tidy he does not know how to clean his teeth. His thin lips pulled back to reveal a jagged set of coffee and cigarette stained teeth that would make any orthodontist faint. He begins to talk into an old time tape recorder. He says that he ‘had administered an anesthetic that made the patient’s system unresponsive and therefore the surgery should begin immediately.’ He very slowly and deliberately leaned underneath the table and pulled out a knife as big as… a really big fucking knife.

As he begins to cut the table sways just randomly enough to be annoying. His fucking Nazi breathing quickens. Toward the floor a dripping noise begins to fill the room. Something is making squish-squishy noises. Occasionally the sound of tendons and cartilage snapping would ring out and remind me of fried chicken.  He pulls something free and rings a bell like one you might find at a hotel check in counter.

Silently, except for that damn creaky door, an attendant dressed in a black rubber apron walks in with a small red cooler in hand and stands at the foot of the table. Slowly, almost lovingly, this Nazi looking fuck picks up a slimy, bloody, organ-y looking bag and places it into the cooler.  The attendant leaves noiselessly only to return soon after with a new cooler. 

Emptiness begins to take hold as the world starts to turn sideways.

The dripping has increased to the point of madness.

Thoughts begin to grow more and more disjointed.

It is hard to concentrate on things.

The Nazi reaches down and with a tug and a snap puts something in front of my face.

A heart. The bell rings.

The attendant walks in as the room dims.

The Nazi leans close. Our lips almost touching.

As I exhale one last time, He breathes in. 

END

Final Word Count: 633 

Coming clean ahead of time, I used 2 'I's, 2 'Me's, and 2 'My's.