Audio Geezer Teaser — an AirBnB Tale

the window is open

the cold rain and snow thirty four and moaning outside moving around the brooklyn brownstone being no match for the dry desert wind that belches into the room blistering the seven layers and a hundred years of paint coating the ancient ornamental vent cover ooze-popping corpuscles doing the prima donna peter max blending swirling running

a tammy faye mascara medley mixed with news of jimmy’s infidelities

a beastly breath burped exhaled excreted passed across this zitacious vent drawn from down deep from the extended windpipe of what must belong to must be attached to be a part of an extension tentacle of some horrid gator-skinned barrel-chested hydra residing within the depths of the basement feeding on coal oil gas and the parts and pieces of random neighborhood children

who once happened to question authority

whose lasting memorials provide content for milk cartons and amber alerts

while the melody of sterling place in brooklyn deep within crown heights drifts up sneaks through the window drafting on the cold weaving betwixt the belches a deep night lullaby the low rumblings of the occasional random car slowed to a crawl to tickle the mid-block traffic bump the murmurs giggles laughs of the passersby the come on max just take a shit for chrissake urgings of the late night early morning dog walker the scratchy clacking of the winter-bare wind-stirred tree branches

a meld a mingle an auditory wondering

wandering

real remembered and contrived a steady rhythm synching and re-synching with the rising falling of his chest an r.e.m. sine wave wrapping around and seeping into his blanket-burrowed body stoned drunken love still simmering still self-satisfied still selfishly free-styling to some sappy seventies jim croce or gordon lightfoot ditty about familial love the father son kind of love the kind of love that sort of sprinkles behind you as you prance dance dally down the sidewalk

like some unicorn farting fluffy flowers out of its magical ass

a lovely meandering through neverland floating down his slumber stream gently gently down the stream as innocent as one’s sleep allows

until he is not

until he is awake

not knowing exactly when he became awake not knowing when the leap from sleep to not sleep occurred his dream his sleeping dream seems to have morphed into a here and now

a hear and how

did i get here

and

what do i do now that i am here

the darkness is not so dark so his eyes must be open shadows float from the windows across the room there is a scraping from below from the floor below an opening of a door the jingle jingle of a set of keys or maybe the little victorian bell attached to the door for the expressed purpose of announcing the arrival of guests

wanted or not

wanted dead or alive

but he is not the type to linger upon the details of his surroundings seeks instead his spot that spot that place in space sans stimulus

and hadn’t noticed if such a bell indeed existed the jingling nevertheless doing the jangle a little jiggling followed by some giggling and he is most certain some wiggling as he heard the oh my’s and the oh yessss’s in two different octaves

followed by music millennial music that electro gonna bump techno synth drum groovy grab sort of thing with smooth crooning laid atop

everyone everything got a hook

and these hooks were not conducive to easing back into his spot his place in space his phone says four thirty in the a.m. and the music seems to go behind a door a muffling a dulling leaving mostly the rhythm coming up through the floor through the wall wherever

a bada bada ba bada bada ba

tip tapping him into a slumber finding his own rhythm his own heartbeat his own breathing eyelid theater whirring up a multiplex of happenings the sandman doing his thing sheep doing a honey-pouring slow belly dance outside around the barn

until the door is opened

letting back in the hook that hook mo’ millennial music mo’ gigglin’ probably mo’ wigglin’ shoed feet giving way to bare feet shuffling across the wooden floors the pop pop fizz fizz of some beer pellegrini diet coke whatever

his place in space is shaken and stirred he gets up to take a piss might as well ponders whether he should go say something goes through the possibilities

they’re probably drunk been out drinking probably not rational the range of responses could go from the oh wow geeze man i’m sooooooo sorry we didn’t realize whoooooaaaa and then go on and on and on so burdened with guilt that they’d be begging for forgiveness all night that he’d not be able to go to sleep anyway

or all the way over to surly pissed off drunk words could be had things get ugly nobody wins girlfriend runs off crying boyfriend runs off crying he runs off crying

ah geeze he shakes his own cock shaking out the last drops

or maybe they’re trippin’ balls been out all night doing the rave thing still dripping with sweat and sliding down the bitter strychnine skid shell shocked smoking cigs like breathing they would have no idea of the concept of sleep only something out there in the distant future a prize to be earned perhaps if they’re lucky

some day

figures all possibilities ends in endless fucked-uppedness not worth the effort he takes a long drag on his vape pen coughs and slides back into the blankets beneath the sheets

and then the door closes again the soft tap tapping the oozing down into sleep

until the door opens and then it closes

and again and again for like an hour just enough time to begin to understand to get a glimpse of insanity it ain’t so different from

regular

until the door it finally closes and the music it stops

all of a sudden

and the vape tickles his eyeballs turns them inside out lets them air out lets them breathe breaks into step with his rising chest his own horrid breath

and his dream machine has the choke wide open allowing in a little more oxygen more sounds brought to him through the wall begins with a little oooh a little ahhh

yes through the wall

voices from the room next door his bed their bed wall in between

and then

the oh my giggle the oh no you don’t the oh my i guess you will the don’t you stop the i will slit your throat if you stop his dream machine suggesting there is some serious hair pulling by this time he ain’t heard him only her he figures she has him by some hipster manbun using it like a bridle pushing his head down there where she needs it to be a leg lock around the back of his head

demanding guiding navigating begging threatening

in a deep and growling and alien some liza minnelli meets marlene dietrich meets the vienna boys choir voice

until she says dead serious and calm and paced she says

now

give it to me now

and the wall grunts and knocks and scrapes and still he hears only her only a moan a groan a howl a guttural uttering of emphatics a medley of harder and faster and no slow go slow no no no harder oh for god’s sake just fuck me

and energy erupts and the wall screams

and then it all goes silent maybe a good two count followed finally by a second voice a long deep bovine-ish grunt filled with buckets of satisfaction relief confusion like this orgasm is a kill shot in the back of his head

and then silence

a barely heard oh baby duet

and then nothing but sterling place lullabies outside and a floating into neverland his dream machine grateful for the input from next door giving it a i got it from here wink and a grin

air b and b adventure and all that