A Nut a Paranoid and a Stick

Friday night: I had taken in an evening of theatre. Theatre going can tax the body and mind to their limits and Friday night proved the first part of this sentence true. Frequently, I don't take care of myself which is why a good friend of mine joked that I looked like an AIDS patient. Since he didn't specify on what continent or what decade I'm not taking it as an insult--I figured he just meant I'm thin and not having sex. Though, every now and again I listen to my body's needs, Friday was such an occassion. After the play I said to myself, "You know what? I've just seen a Bertolt Brecht play from his 'early years'. I am wiped out. I think I'll go to bed and get some rest." So I came home and went to bed.

The End.

Or is it?

Yes, I went to bed and fell asleep. Then at 4:10 am my bedroom door, situated across the room from my bed crept open. (Across the room in this Brooklyn bedroom is 7 feet.) The opening door woke me up for some reason. Typically, I am the type who could sleep through a Black Flag concert. But Saturday in the wee hours I awoke to my door creeking open. A hand I've never seen before snuck it's way into my room and flicked my light on. OH MY GOD!!!! We're being robbed. HOLY SHIT!!! this is it someone is going to rape and kill me. AHHHH!!! A hundred variations of my mutilation sped through my head. 3 seconds later I screamed aloud, "Get the fuck out of my room!!!" The hand shut the light off withdrew and shut the door. I quickly turned on my lamp next to my bed, and grabbed my 5.5 foot stick I keep next to my bed. Yes, I keep a large stick next to my bed, because I knew this night would come. If the nightly evening news has taught me anything it's that one day I'll be murdered in my sleep. I sat with my stick poised to take on that arm and the body or bodies attached to it. I practiced a few moves to warm up for my big battle. The big stick is a little too big for my furnished 8x11 bedroom... and... ahh... well, the dresser and the desk kind of get in the way of side strikes. I figured the only logistical move I could execute was to hurl myself and the stick straight at the intruders when they returned through my bedroom door. I didn't want them to return, I just wanted them to take the TV and be on their way. As much as I've fantasized about being a hero when the hero moments actually arrive I just want to hide and weep.

A knock on my bedroom door. I prayed it was the raven, but nevermore. I stayed silent and left the door closed. Why? Because I'm not stupid. I've seen those scary picture shows and I've caught a television program in my day. I also used to read Bobsie Twin Novels. I'd sooner go out my bedroom window than open that door. My fingers tightened around the staff. A little voice came from the other side of the door. It was a woman's voice. It was...was...It was my roommate's girlfriend. The one who gave me a drunken psychic reading in July last time she was in town. She asked from behind the door, "Rachael, are you OK?"
I still don't know what's going on out there. I still don't open the door. "What happened? what's going on?" I asked from my bed.
"Did they come into your room?"
"Who? Are you OK?"
It's over I thought. I opened the door. She saw me with the broom handle in my hands. "They're just kids. Just some kids who were at Ripple." Ripple is a bar in my neighborhood. She had brought a few people over to our apartment after the bar closed. Aparently NYC's alcohol laws are too strict with the mandate that bars stop serving liquor at 4am. She says, "They came into your room." "They did?" I ask. I freak out. "Oh my god! What did they do to me while I was sleeping? Oh shit!" Turns out she was asking me if they had been in my room. "No, just a hand and forearm."

She drunkenly hugs me, and says, "I'm so protective of you." I'm thinking if you are so protective of me why are you bringing drunken strangers into my apartment at 4 or in the morning? Not to mention my roommate's girlfriend is one of the few adults who weighs less than me which makes sense because she's about two inches shorter than me.

So this waif decided to have a little party in my apartment with stangers, excuse me her new best friends for the evening while my roommate, her boyfriend was sleeping in his room.

After I settled down, I realized the world is full of warmth and amazement. My roommate's girlfriend is insane. Completely nutty and scatter- brained. Really out of her skull. And my roommate loves her anyway. I think that's awesome. What I think is more awesome is that she is not my girlfriend. And even better than that she lives in Colorado.


Carolyn said…
Dude - is she still in college? WTF?!
rachael said…
would you believe she turned 50 on friday? Cuz she did.
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