New Title 1 (8 page)

    
The smile abruptly slid off her face.

    “
What do you mean, you have no idea what I’m talking about? I’m talking about…” She trailed off. “Oh forget it. You’ll never understand. Proving yet again why we weren’t meant to be together.”

    
Drumming her fingers against her knees, she waited as the wall stammered around, trying to make excuses for his rudeness.

    
But the woman wanted no part of it. She stood up and said, “I’m sure the power will be back on soon enough. The street light will come on and you can have your little nightlight back.”

    
She blew out the candles. “No, you can’t keep them. That would be a fire hazard because, frankly, I just don’t trust you with fire.”

    
Satisfied that she had really stuck it to him, she went back upstairs and fell asleep without giving another thought to his fearful whimpers.

* * * * *

    
She no longer felt comfortable being in the living room in just her underwear and told the wall so with more than a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

    “
Yes, I know you’ve seen it all before, but now it’s different. I mean, you don’t even have the common decency to look away, for crying out loud. That’s not very gentlemanly, if you ask me.”

    
Wearing a robe despite the fact that the temperature was pushing 90 degrees, she stood in the center of the room, a bottle of nail polish in her hand.

    “
It’s not very fair that a woman can’t even paint her toe nails in the privacy of her own living room if she feels like it. Did that ever occur to you, Wally? That I might enjoy having the damn living room to myself once in a while? No, I’m sure it didn’t. Because you are truly the most selfish ex-boyfriend and current roommate that I have ever known in my entire life. Just once, I’d like to be comfortable down here without you ogling me. And don’t try to deny it. We were together for quite a while, if you recall. I can sense when you are ogling me in that way.”

    
Disgusted, she took her nail polish up to the bedroom, where it was at least five degrees hotter, but at least she didn’t have to feel like a sexual object or listen to the wall’s pathetic denials. The way he insisted he was so innocent was almost enough to make her puke.

* * * * *

    
Trying out a new hobby seemed like just the thing to get her spirits up and this time, the woman chose meditation as her latest endeavor.

    
Since the living room was the biggest open place she had, that was where she settled herself, on a big pillow in the center of the room. In one corner, incense burned, while in another a candle flickered though it was still early afternoon.

    
She assumed the lotus position and closed her eyes, trying to find her center. After a moment, she said, “Shh.”

    
Straightening her back, she inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly, concentrating on the air moving in and out of her lungs. She’d managed another two breaths before once again saying “Shh.”

    
Focus
, she thought.
Just ignore him and focus.

    
Less than 30 seconds passed before her eyes flew open. “
SHHHH!”

    
Trying a different technique, she began counting her breaths to herself. She was just starting to find the rhythm when she suddenly screamed, “
Will you please shut the fuck up? Can’t you see I’m trying to meditate here?”

    
But the wall refused to shut up.

    
She knew he was doing it on purpose, trying to piss her off and she hated herself for showing him exactly how well his little game was working, but she couldn’t help it. She felt the old rage boiling up inside, her pulse racing, the blood pounding in her head and when she opened her eyes, all she could see was red.

    “
You motherfucker!”
she screamed, leaping to her feet and lunging at the wall, kicking and punching and scratching just like she used to do when he was the one who was red and she’d chalked up her anger to passion.

    
Now she knew differently.

    
She flat-out
hated
the wall.
Despised
it. Wished death upon it.

    “
I’ll show you, you motherfucker!” she roared. “I’ll shut you up
forever!
”

    
Her first instinct was to run and find her hammer and bash the wall into rubble, but instead she calmed her nerves, gathered her car keys and left the house.

    
Her destination: the Home Depot.

* * * * *

    
When she returned, she grinned maniacally at the wall, showing it the plastic sack with the store’s logo on it. “You know what’s in here, you fucking prick? Something to really fix your wagon, that’s what. You won’t be Mr. Macho tough guy when I’m through with you.”

    
With more delight than she could ever have imagined, she pulled out the roll of wallpaper and held it up to Wally. She was so happy, she felt like dancing.

    “
And that’s not all,” she said. “Look at it, Wally. It’s got
flowers.
It’s a
floral
pattern. Big
pink flowers
!”

    
She laughed uproariously when the wall begged, pleaded, apologized and promised. “Fuck you, Wally,” she said between her fits of laughter. “I’m going to emasculate you forever. I know for you, that’s a fate worse than death.”

    
And she immediately got to work doing just that.

* * * * *

    
Unfortunately for the woman, the floral print wallpaper only made the wall furious. She could no longer sleep at night, even after covering her head with two pillows. On and on he raged, never giving her a moment’s peace.

    
Somewhere around 2 am, she sat up in bed and screamed,
“Shut up, you motherfucker
!
I am NOT crazy
!
You’re the crazy one!
You’re the one who needs a shrink! You hear me, motherfucker? It’s YOU who’s crazy! YOU!”

    
There was no shutting him up, though. Once again, what she had thought had been a brilliant plan had gone astray. There was just no fixing that wall.

    
Finally, she jumped out of bed and did what instinct had told her to do before she’d gone to get the wallpaper: she went for her hammer.

    
She charged into the living room, hammer held high above her head. “
I’m crazy?”
she screamed at the wall.
“I’m crazy? We’ll just see who’s fucking crazy!”

    
In the dark, she slammed the hammer into the wall as hard as she could. Wallpaper tore. Sheetrock shattered. Three layers of paint disintegrated.

    
Again and again, she hit the wall. Her hair hung in tangles across her face, her eyes wild and rolling. She smashed the wall until her muscles ached and then she kept on smashing it. Blinded by sheetrock dust, spitting wallpaper glue and paint chips, she was a killing machine and still the wall wouldn’t shut up, wouldn’t stop yelling that she was insane, wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop,
wouldn’t stop…

* * * * *

    
Eventually, though, the woman had to stop. There were men there who made her stop and then they took her away somewhere but even after that, she swore that she could still hear the wall. It was faint, speaking to her from far away, that was true, but still, it
was
speaking to her. Telling her that it loved her, that she was the most beautiful woman it had ever known, that it could make her happy, and she would know that if only she would give it a single sweet kiss.

About the Author

    
Gina Ranalli is an author of bizarro fiction, including the novels
House of Fallen Trees
,
Sky Tongues
,
Swarm of Flying Eyeballs
,
Chemical Gardens
,
Suicide Girls in the Afterlife
, and
Mother Puncher
. Her short story collection
13 Thorns
(with outsider artist Gus Fink) won the Wonderland Book Award for best collection of 2007 Her short fiction has appeared in
Bits of the Dead
,
Horror Library Vol. 3
,
Northern Haunts
,
The Dream People
,
Dead Science
, and
The Bizarro Starter Kit (Orange)
.

    
Visit her online at
www.ginaranalli.com