Wednesday, March 5, 2014

The Morning Visit (Part 1)

        The bacon was perfect, the eggs were fluffy, and the hash browns were tenderly warm and encased in brown crispness. Everything was seasoned to his liking, and nothing was out of place. His coffee sat on the end table to his right, tickling his nose with it’s aromatic steam. 
        He grabbed a slice of bacon and ripped off a mouthful. He then delicately grabbed his mug and introduced the coffee to the bacon. The salty taste of the bacon intermingled with the bitter liquid in a pleasant marriage. 
        He closed his eyes and wallowed in the atmosphere of the morning. It was a good day, and nothing interruptive nor bothersome would be allowed to dampen the mood.
        Then came the knocks on the door. 
        After the first rap, his body tensed with surprise, but after the continued knocks of the second and third raps, his body began to cramp.
        “I’m not home!” He made no effort to sound decorous. He shoved a spoonful of hash browns down without tasting it. 
        “Oh, of course you’re not!” Replied a man’s voice beyond the door. “To whom am I speaking, then? A phantom?” 
        “What do you want?”
        “I want to visit. Can I enter, Miles?”    
        Miles looked at the door with a quizzical look. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”
        “I am someone you can trust, and I know your name because I can be trusted.”
        He couldn’t follow the logic, nor did he care to try. “Sorry, you’ve come to the wrong house.”
        “I don’t make mistakes, Miles! I am at the right house at the right time to see the right person--you.”
        “Well, you interrupted my breakfast! That is not the right time.”
        “I wouldn't say that I interrupted,” the voice said. “I came to join you in eating breakfast.” 
        How presumptuous! 
        “Join me? The nerve!” Miles bemoaned.
        “Did you make enough bacon for me? I can smell it, and boy, do I like bacon!”
        Miles glared at the door. “All out of bacon, sorry. Looks like you’ll have to go.”
        After a lengthy pause, Miles began to think that the Annoyance at the door had left. He sighed and slightly relaxed his shoulders, which had still been tight since the Annoyance knocked. He ate a spoonful of eggs and forced a smile.
        Now...where was I....
        “Enough of this!” Shouted the Annoyance, who was still very present.
        The door burst open before Miles could break his contrived smile, and with such a nonplussed look he stared at the open door where the Annoyance stood silhouetted against the morning sunlight. 
        The door was locked. He broke it!
        “How dare you!” Miles yelled. “That’ll cost you.”
        “Cost me what? The door?” He inspected the door and lock. “Nothing’s broken.”
        “Yup. Now, may I come in?”
        “No! I told you already. How do you think I’ll let you in after breaking my door?”
        “I didn’t break it, and don’t worry, I won’t step on any toes.”
        “You’re already stepping on them," Miles complained. “Besides, what can you possibly offer me in return for your visit, anyway?”
        “What do you mean? Can I not simply want to visit? Must I offer something in return? Since when is a visit not a form of payment?”
        “You must have some motive.”
        “Well....” The Annoyance began. “I am here for one reason.”
        “Ha! I knew it! Ulterior motives.”
        “No. Please, let me explain.” 
        Miles raised his eyebrows.
        The Annoyance took a breath. “You need me.”
        “Excuse me? Does it look like I need you?” Miles waved his hand, pointing haphazardly around his home. 
        “Well, yes, actually.”
        “How dare you and your presumptuous insistence! I don’t need you--I don’t need anyone. Get out of my house!”
        “I’m not in your house yet, and in time, you will see that you do need me.”
        When Miles kept silent, the Annoyance continued his plea. “OK. How about I visit for a little while,” he glanced at the clock, “‘til 8, and then if you still want me gone, I will be gone forever.”
        “Deal! If that’s what it will take to be rid of you.” 
        “All-righty!” The Annoyance cheered. 
        He reached down and picked up a suitcase that was previously out of Miles’s sight and stormed in.
        “Make yourself at home.” Miles said sarcastically.
        “Why, thank you!” The Annoyance exclaimed. “I will.”
        “No! I meant....Oh, never mind.” 
        “Sounds good.”
        The Annoyance placed his suitcase on the kitchen counter, and began rummaging through the cupboards. “Where are your plates?”
        “The one to the left of the sink.” Miles said.
        “Thank you.” He opened it and sifted through the assortment of plates.
        “Just pick one!”
        “I’ve got to find just the right one. It affects the taste.”     
        Miles exhaled loudly and glanced down at his plate. There was a fly dancing on his eggs, and the bacon was now dry and looked quite unappetizing. The ketchup in the hash browns had lost its luster and it made the mix look like cat vomit. 
        His breakfast was now lost to the decay of intrusion.
        “It’s still good, just stir it up a bit.” The Annoyance said before he plopped down next to Miles on the couch.
        Miles eyed him closely while he shoveled up a spoonful of eggs. The man’s face resembled a clown without makeup. His protruding cheeks, round nose, enormous lips and brambly hair made him look deranged. If it wasn’t for his tainted mood, Miles would have burst out laughing at such an appearance.
        “So...what’s your name?” 
        “Your last name?”
        Smith bit into a slice of bacon. “Both.”
        Miles squinted. “You’re name is ‘Smith Smith’? Really?”
        He smiled, a bit of egg hanging from his upper lip. “Well, it’s ‘Smith S. Smith.’”
        “Let me guess, your middle name is ‘Smith,’ as well?”  
        “Nope. It’s Steve.”
        “Oh I thought for sure it would be--”
        “--No! Just kidding. It is ‘Smith’! You were right; how’d you know?”
        “Lucky guess.”
        Smith smiled. “Most people call me ‘Smith,’ though.”
        Smith continued tearing into his food. He bit into the bacon and then stopped suddenly. He took it out of his mouth and examined it before meticulously tearing off a chewy, fatty segment.
        “Yucky fat.” Smith replied in response to Miles’s confused look.
        “It is fat. That’s what bacon is.”
        “Yes, but it must be cooked, not raw. Want me to teach you how to cook it?”
        Miles stared at Smith’s food with envy. Those were his seconds, and now a guy named Smith Smith Smith was chowing them down right in front of him. 
        What a morning!
        Miles stood up to throw his breakfast away. 
        He was about to lift the lid to the trash can when Smith reminded, “I told you it was still good!”
        “Nope.” Miles opened the lid and swiped the food into the abyss. 
        Even the trash has had its breakfast.
        Still hungry, he went to the fridge and took out more eggs and bacon to remake his meal. He decided to skip the hash browns this time since the sight of the “cat vomit” deterred him from giving them a second chance. 
        He turned the stovetop on and went to the countertop to prepare the eggs. It was then that he was reminded of the suitcase’s presence, which had overwhelmed all available counter space.
        “Smith, why do you need this?” Miles said, pointing to the suitcase. 
        “You never know!” Smith said without taking his attention away from his hash browns.
        Of course. The ever-ready traveller. 
        The sunlight continued to shine through the window with it’s golden warmth, but Miles was no longer basking in it. He mundanely remade his breakfast and sat down at the table, away from Smith, with his eggs and bacon. He never even took a cursory glance at Smith. 
        From the couch, Smith sat in silence after he had finished his breakfast. He watched Miles swallow his last mouthful, and asked him, “So, now what do we do?”
        “I don’t know. You tell me.” Miles said without looking at him. 
        Smith jumped up from the couch and ran to his suitcase. “I thought you would never ask!” 
        His sudden move and alarmingly curious statement made Miles nervous, and he turned to watch him. 
        “What are you doing?” He asked.
        Smith didn’t reply. He opened his suitcase and smiled after looking inside. He then looked up at Miles with an overjoyed smile that creeped Miles out. “I thought you would never ask.” He repeated.
        Miles regretted letting Smith Smith Smith into his home. His morning was ruined, but little did Miles know that his whole life would shortly be ruined as well.

-------------------> Read Part 2 Here! <---------------------

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