The Night Before

[Wes Corona]

It’s once again, the night before. You wonder now, the night before what? It’s unknown, since the next day’s events cannot be predicted. On this particular night before, something was unremarkably different. This has become my paradox.

If it is unremarkable, then why write about it, you may think. Because, with each previous night before, there has been an anticipation of what possibilities may be yet to come. No such feeling has yet possessed my about what is to come tomorrow.

As I am thinking about this, the doorbell rings, followed by a furious knocking at the door knocker. Someone is indeed attempting to gain my attention, I hurry to the door, and find a white paper envelope placed under the door mat.

I carefully remove the envelope and look at it. It has my name written on the middle of the front surface. It is sealed. I hold it up to the light in an effort to ascertain what the contents might be. It’s one of those security envelopes that you can’t see through. I shake it, and listen, and feel it. Nothing.

I look around through the neighborhood. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything looks normal. I sniff the envelope. It smelled like paper. My wife often asks me to sample those scratch and sniff advertisements in magazines. She gets mad every time I tell her that it smells like paper.

I take the envelope into the kitchen, lay it down on the table, and carefully, very carefully slip a knife into the sealed flap on the back, and slice it open. I then squeeze it open and find a folded paper inside. No powder, no apparent dangerous material resides inside. Maybe I’m paranoid.

I unfold the paper, and find three typed words:

STAY HOME TOMORROW

Suddenly, the night before has taken on a very sinister meaning. Now, I begin to fret and worry. Why would someone tell me to stay home? I am alone tonight, so I cannot discuss the note with anyone. I start to pace. I look at the note again, inspecting it for some additional information. A clue of some sort. STAY HOME TOMORROW. What can it mean?

I am feeling nervous now. I go the cupboard and take out a bottle of Gentleman Jack. I pour three fingers of Jack into a glass. I normally sip and savor the Jack. Not this time. I down the three fingers, and pour another three fingers. Down again. The Jack warms my insides, and my spirit lifts.

So what could this mean? Perhaps it’s the Publisher’s Clearing House setting up one of those photo shoots when someone wins a million bucks a week for life. Yeah, fat chance. One more Jack. Two fingers this time. Can’t let this stuff get ahead of me.

I’m feeling better, a slight buzz and a giddy feeling. Has to be the Jack. STAY HOME TOMORROW. Why? No signature. I begin to worry again. Who? Why? Why me?

I must keep a level head about this. The night before. Before what? Why had I had the feeling earlier? What was different? I hadn’t noticed, but it was now dark outside. I checked the clock. 10:00 P.M.

I turn on the 10 o’clock news. Maybe the local drivel will take my mind off the note, and the feeling of dread now upon me, like plastic bag over my head, smothering my soul.

Halfway through the news, it hits me. “TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE, TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE, TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS.

That’s it! Sure. But no, it’s only August. That can’t be it.

I walk to the front door, turn on the porch light, and open the door. I look around. Nothing. I raise the door mat, just to check and see if I missed something. Nothing there. I turn around, and see the front door. There are three moths taped to the door. Each moth is different from the others. Each is beautiful in it’s own way. The sight takes me aback.

Now, they have me! I am truly fearful. I hurry back inside and down the basement stairs. I find the Barretta 9 mm and ammunition. I load two fourteen round magazines. I put one mag into the pistol and keep the other as a spare. Can’t be too cautious.

I pour another three fingers of Jack and sit down in front of the TV. I sip the Jack, once again savoring the flavor, and wait. The night before will soon end, and tomorrow will come, and I will be ready for what comes.

[YesNo]

This looks like a good chapter 1. Now to see what is about to happen.

[Wes Corona]

It was about 5 A.M. and I had to pee. I got up from the bed, hmmm, wonder how I got here? I half walked, half staggered to the commode. On the way, I thought stagger, stagger, crawl, crawl, what movie was that from? Oh yeah, Yellow Beard, ha! Well, Mister Beard, you’ll not find me crawling to the potty, no siree.

I get to the pot, and sit. Yeah, I said sit! It’s been more than a few years since I could stand and pee. The old prostate just gives me too much grief to try to stand for five minutes each time I have to empty my bladder. I found it’s easier to sit and press down on the area below my abdomen to get full relief. It’s just a male thing. And women think they have all the problems when getting old. Hurrumph!

I get back to the bedroom and find the now empty bottle of Gentleman Jack on the nightstand. Wonder when I finished that? I must have passed out sometime after the 10 o’clock news. My head is a little achy and my stomach has done a couple of flip-flops since standing up. Then I remember that I hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch. The doorbell rang, and the note was there, and I forgot about normal things after that. Had I let the dogs out? Did I feed them? I just don’t remember. I better let them out and give them an early breakfast. Then I can go to McDonalds and get a couple of those sausage and egg sandwiches. They always taste pretty good. But, then it once again dawns on me, STAY HOME TOMORROW.

Yeah, there is that. Well, first the dogs. I’ll want them on my side if trouble comes walking through my door. Keep ‘em fed and happy. I don’t know how much help they would be if tested. They, individually have shown different temperaments relative to protection. I think, if push came to shove, the oldest and smallest of the three is by far, the most ferocious. She has demonstrated her protectiveness towards me since we rescued her several years back. The other two, littermates, and a couple of years younger than the rescue, would certainly join in if either one of them was threatened. I have never seen two dogs more devoted to each other than these two. I believe they have courage, and would certainly come to my aid if I was in danger.

Now, I think, have I done everything I can do to protect myself? I’ve got the Barretta, loaded with hollow point ammo. I think this is better and has more stopping power than the typical 9 mm dum-dum ammo you can still buy at Wally World. It’s not as good as cutter ammo, but that is outlawed, and hard to come by these days. There is a combat / survival knife somewhere down the basement. If it comes to a hand to hand situation, I think this might give me an edge. Speaking of edges, this knife, when it arrived had no edge at all. It wouldn’t cut a ripe banana. I had it professionally sharpened and now it sports a surgical edge on both the top and bottom edges. If I had to swing it or stab with it, I’m pretty sure it would inflict some major damage on whomever it came in contact with.

So, I go down the stairs to the basement, find the knife and an old pistol belt with a holster for the Barretta, and strap it on. I’ll be ready for whatever.

Okay, let the dogs out after doing a look around. House is secure, nothing out of the ordinary outside. Let them out, feed them, and start to wait for what’s coming.

Dogs are good, fed, and napping on the furniture, as always, a normal day for them.

I check the phone. I still have a landline, one of the few hold-outs remaining. The wife is always after me to drop it. Then I tell her, what would those poor computer repair guys do if they didn’t have us to call? I love to play with them when they call. “WE must check your Windows Computer.” I haven’t owned a Windows based computer for over ten years, but they still call, twice a week.

“Why not just use your cell phone, and drop the land-line?” she says every time the bill comes due. Well, the cell / smart phone is another story. It will ring, usually when it’s across the room. I jump up, hustle over to the phone, and usually catch it by the third ring. Then I have to swipe the screen, answer a question as to whether I want to accept the call, or not, and try to figure our how to make it actually connect to who’s calling. By this time, the caller has hung up. I have just given up on trying to make the thing work. Whatever happened to picking up a ringing phone and saying “Hello”? I guess that was the old way to do things, before we stopped talking to each other and started texting or twittering, or instant messaging, or whatever they call it today, hash tag.


So, now it’s eight A.M, and I begin my wait. What is going to happen? I am running the possibilities through my mind, and most don’t end well. How will it happen? Will there be one guy, two, or a gang? What do they want with me anyway? What have I done, in my life to deserve this? No matter what comes, I’m going to be ready. This I promise myself. I look out the front windows. Some guys are cutting down a tree across the street. A furniture delivery truck has just pulled up next door. I decide to go outside and make an inspection tour around the property. Just a look-see. I roust the dogs from their dreams, and say, you guys want to go outside?” Big stretches, much wagging of tails and lots of anticipation and happy barking. Okay, we’re set. Let’s go, come whatever. The dogs come outside with me, spot a deer at the edge of the woods, and begin to give chase. The deer runs off, and the dogs lose interest pretty fast. On to sniffing where the buck had been. I look, and see he has eaten the last of this year’s crop of tomatoes. I guess if things work out well today, I can clear the plants away to the composter tomorrow.

Everything appears normal outside. We go back in, and I have a second cup of coffee, and wonder what the neighbors think if they have seen me in carrying my protection. Well, nobody pays much attention around here, since I’m up the hill, away from everyone else. Drink your coffee, eat a bagel and check your email. So, now it’s about noon. Time for the Noon Report. Turn on the TV. Nothing new. A couple of fires, a couple of shootings, a stabbing, trial dates set, weather, sports. Steelers lost again. The coach comes out with the usual excuses and rhetoric. We need to stop making mistakes, get back to basics, keep our head in the game for 60 minutes and on and on. Same crap, every week. I think it’s time for a new coach, with a new set of words. I’ve been listening to this guy for far too long. So, the Noon Report is over. The phone rings. I answer, but no one is there. Maybe they’re checking up on me. The caller ID says “UNAVAILABLE”. Well, this isn’t the first time I got this message, but now it seems sinister.

The worrying returns. I check the Barretta. Safety is off. I chamber a round, just in case. I check the front yard. Tree guys are still there. Furniture delivery truck has departed. I see the mail truck coming up the street. When he gets to my drive, he drives up. Hmmm, must be a package today. I go outside after dropping the gun belt. No use having to explain this situation to him. He hands me the package, and we exchange our usual banter. He bugs me about the Browns (having come here from Cleveland some years back) and I counter about the once great Steelers who now would have a hard time winning under Friday Night Lights against one of the power house high schools.

Mailman leaves, and the waiting continues. I check the house again. I’m pacing. Then I notice, I’ve left the gun belt in the garage. The doorbell rings. NOW WHAT?!
The doorbell rings again. There is a knock, and another. What should I do? I go out to the garage, and get the gun belt, strap it on, and figure, I’ll go around the house and surprise them from behind. As I approach the front door, a guy steps off the porch, stops dead in his tracks when he sees the gun and the knife.

I say to him, “Who are you, and what do you want around here?”

“I’m the cable guy. I’ve got your new router.”

”Are you the one who left the note yesterday?”

“Why, yeah, I was going to deliver the router yesterday, but the box had been opened, and I didn’t want to take a chance that it had been returned. So, I stopped in at the warehouse this morning to pick up a new one.”

“What was the idea of the three moths, taped to the door?” I asked.

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

I went over to the door, and then it dawned on me. I had painted the front door earlier yesterday, and the moths just got stuck on the wet paint. They weren’t taped to the door as I had imagined.

“Well let’s get that router installed, what do you think?” I said to him, trying to reassure him I wasn’t a nutcase.

“Okay, but can you lose the gun and the knife? I’d feel a lot better if you weren’t toting those things around.”

“Sure enough.”

Well the cable is fixed, and now I can finally watch Netflix without any problems. All is well. Think I’ll go out for some hamburgers at McDonalds.