A. From the bed, after a troubled night of sleep (much tossing and sweating), my memory, my "vision" of the object (and its place), is cloudy and confused. I remember a box, and a light, and an open feeling of knowledge, but not much more. Also, I think there are animals involved somehow, as I recall a dozen or more "tails", for lack of a better word. And (as the intellectual clouds begin to part) I'm seeing a dispenser of tape, and a flashlight, and a roll of toilet paper. As a matter of fact, there seems to be a lot of paper: 3 x 5 cards, Post-it notes, napkins, 8 1/2" x 11" sheets of printer paper, envelopes, receipts. There are even books, if I'm not mistaken, and this is difficult to wrap my head around. If there are books, and they are "my" books, then why am I still in this soaked bed? I must rise!
[An unspecified amount of time is spent, first getting dressed, and then wandering the facility, going from room to room, exercising my driving interest in the object. Dozens of doorknobs go cold in my hands, but I will not be deterred.]
B. I have entered what must be the correct room, as I have noticed a large wooden cabinet against the far wall, and it "feels" right. It stands about 5 1/2 feet tall, and is approximately 3 feet wide. It has double doors on its front, and they appear to be made of stained oak. It stands on 4 round "feet", and is raised about 3 inches from the floor. In the crack between the doors, I can see light emanating from within, and I can feel an inviting warmth beginning to fill the room, and, in turn, my chest cavity and knees. Also, I can smell paper and electricity, and this excites me. I will approach it, but first I must determine how to engage its formidable guardian: a black, 52" plasma flat screen television, which rests menacingly above it.
[It turns out the television was not menacing at all, but, actually, quite friendly, and I was able to acquire an all-access pass to the cabinet for the 23rd of February. The only issue now is the waiting, which will be done on a stuffed green ottoman, beside the sewing machine table. (I've procured a gallon of water, a loaf of 9-grain bread, and a book of "medium difficulty" sudoku puzzles to help pass the time.)]
C. The day has come. The doors, when viewed from a closer vantage point, are gorgeously detailed. Whoever spent the time to hand carve this cabinet did a wonderful job, and deserves to be commended. However, upon up-close inspection, there is a good deal of dust collected in the many crevices of the fine carvings, and I begin to wonder about the object's upkeep. Who's responsible for taking care of this thing? (I'll have to have words with the television.) Anyway, I spend about a half an hour licking my fingers, and then running them along the grooves of the doors in an attempt to remove as much of the dust as possible. I manage to do quite a good job, and spend another ten minutes admiring my spit-shined work. The doors actually begin to glow, like, literally. I wonder if I've set off some sort of defense mechanism, or something, and I step back in fear. But, just as I do that, the glowing suddenly stops. Then, I remember that I was supposed to tie a ribbon around one of the door handles, and pull on it to open the cabinet. So, I pull a red ribbon from my pants pocket, and I do just that. Then, I give it a tug, and POP, it's open.
[There is a moment where my eyes are closed, and I'm afraid to reopen them. I briefly fear I may have gone blind, but this quickly proves to be an incorrect assumption.]
D. I open my eyes, and a dropping cloud of dust is before them. It is so thick, that I cannot see into the cabinet. Also, it is making it difficult for me to breathe, so I step back and don a protective mask that I had brought with me. The light within the cabinet has gone quite dim, and I immediately have trouble making out the many objects that are present. I reach, almost blindly, into the cabinet, and feel around for some sort of secondary light source. I feel what seems to be a power strip, and, after a second or two, find what I assume is the "on" button, and I tap it. There is a great moaning sound, and then the squeal of machines coming to life, but no additional light. This is frustrating, so I return briefly to the ottoman to grab my trusty flashlight, but it has disappeared. As a matter of fact, all of my belongings are gone. And then, with my back to the cabinet, there is a sudden burst of light in the room. Something has come to life behind me.
[I have previously described a small, fortified island with a lighthouse, and a catacomb of tunnels beneath it, but this is nothing like that. This is almost beyond description, but not quite. Also, I failed to mention the presence of two small rabbits, who have been darting in and out of the shadows at the corners of the room. There is a black one, with a white tail and a brown "mohawk"; and there is a "peaches and cream" colored one who has thumped at me on several occasions. I wonder if they are friendly, and I wonder to whom they belong. This is a strange place, not unlike the fortified island.]
E. The area has gone very dry, and I resist the urge to cough. I realize that in order to get a better understanding of what has occurred behind me, I must turn around. However, I am very afraid. Suddenly, there is a black rabbit at my feet, and he is standing on his hind legs, motioning to me. I wonder what he wants? Just as I bend down to engage with him, he darts between my legs, toward the illuminated cabinet. Slowly, I begin to turn around, and I can feel the heat of the light on my face and forearms. When fully turned around, I am surprised to find out that all the light is coming from just one side of the cabinet, as I have still only opened one of the doors. The light is so bright, that I still can't really make out what is inside the cabinet. But, I do notice the little black rabbit, at the base of the cabinet, running back and forth in an apparent attempt to indicate something. I dig into my pocket, and I pull out a pair of scratched-up sunglasses, and I place them on my face, as I move back toward the object, and the rabbit.
[In 1992, I acquired said sunglasses at the Pine Knob Music Theater, after an older pair had been destroyed by a group of rioting concertgoers. They cost me $17.99, and have been very durable, especially considering the relatively inexpensive price. Also, many people have told me that they are similar to the sunglasses worn in the 1980 motion picture, The Blues Brothers, starring Dan Ackroyd and John Belushi.]
F. The little black rabbit stopped in front of the left door, which remained unopened. He motioned, with his ears, to the red ribbon still tied around the handle of the right door, which I had previously opened. I realized that he meant to have me tie the ribbon around the handle of the left door, so that I might open it. So, I did just that. With great patience, the rabbit waited for me to finish the task. When completed, we both stepped back a bit, still struggling with the blinding light, and I tugged the left door open. We were absolutely engulfed by the light, and we both immediately began sweating, as the heat was quite unbearable. I looked down to him and asked: "What might we do about this light, and this heat?" Without any hesitation, he hopped up into the cabinet, and out of sight.
[I counted the laces on my shoes, and the nails on my fingers, and the hairs upon my arms, and rode the second hand around many times. The sweat was drenching my t-shirt, and my shorts, and my coon-skin cap. I was hot, both literally, and figuratively. Needless to say, the little black rabbit was gone for what seemed like an eternity.]
G. Soon, I began to see the light as a sort of deity, and I started to compose prayers and devise rituals of worship. I fashioned a staff from a nearby curtain rod and carved a complex series of hieroglyphics into one end of it. Also, I took to collecting sweat in the bowl of my coon-skin cap to assist in the potential moistening of any future sacrificial subjects. I removed my shorts and strung them up onto another curtain rod. I painted them with blood samples and fecal matter, and then hoisted them high. This was the flag of my new state: The State of Universal Reckoning. I would be the governor of this new state, and the little black rabbit would be my secretary of state, if he ever returned from the light. And, speaking of rabbits, the "peaches and cream" colored one has joined me, and together we are preparing for our first state of the state address, when, without any warning, the light goes out, and the two of us stand face to face with the little black rabbit. He is clearly and easily visible, and he is cool (of temperature, that is).
[Apparently, the "peaches and cream” colored rabbit is actually called "Peaches". She and I struck up quite a friendship waiting for the little black rabbit. His name is "Beauregard". They are a little southern couple, hailing from Macon, Georgia, home of the Allman Brothers Band, and James Brown. They've been in the employ of the television for the last few years, and are quite fond of their work. However, they get very few chances to meet with other people, so they are grateful for the opportunity they've had with me. Unfortunately, they are rather tight-lipped about the cabinet, and I'm afraid I may have insulted them with my persistent badgering.]
H. The little black rabbit jumped back down from the cabinet, and joined his wife at my feet. I was so distracted by the two of them that I initially failed to notice what had opened up before me. The three of us took turns wiping our brows with a Pittsburgh Steelers "Terrible Towel" (in honor of their recent Super Bowl appearance) and swapping stories about other rooms we had seen and experienced. Beauregard had been to the bathroom, which I had never seen, and Peaches had spent a summer in the closet. (I too had been in the closet, but certainly not for an entire summer.) Beauregard showed me his fishing waders and his racing paws, and Peaches demonstrated the proper procedure required for cleaning her long, flowing ears. The three of us sat talking for hours on end, as if we were having a picnic, or a city council meeting. Then, at the height of our joyous activities, we were suddenly startled by a loud and booming voice. It was the television, and he had something to say about the upcoming programming. We all sat still, giving the giant guardian our strictest attentions.
[I do not object to this.]
I. "What you may or may not have noticed is that the light has been rendered mild. This is thanks to the efforts of Mr. Beauregard, our friendly and accommodating attendant. Please take note of all the splendor before you. There is much here to see, but, you must remember, this is not the work of any god. It is, simply, the work. I am aware of your recent preparations, pious visitor, to worship at the altar of our beloved cabinet, but you must not offer your prayers and sacrifices herein. This is a secular territory, and it must remain as such, in order to maintain its government subsidized standing as an historical monument. Please refrain from any bowing, kneeling, or other such activity that might be mistaken for religious action. We want you to enjoy your time in the cabinet, but ask that you respect the rules and regulations that we have set forth. If there are no questions, I leave you to your exploration. Have a great time, and enjoy your stay."
[I will now take stock of everything on my person: A pocket-size notebook. An extra-fine point, blue ink pen. A black retractable pencil with 0.5 lead. A red, retractable eraser. A clear plastic, flexible ruler. A hiking and hunting compass. An old-fashioned stopwatch. An artist's sketch pad. A coon-skin cap. A gray pair of Hanes boxer-brief underpants. A brown leather, trifold wallet. A black, fine-tooth comb. A pair of size 13 Nike tennis shoes. A sweat-soaked, navy blue t-shirt. A key ring, containing seven keys. A slightly used magic wand. A set of red and green paper clips. A back brace. A copy of the Websters new abridged dictionary. A portable cheese grater. A pair of khaki cargo shorts with a 44 inch waist. A 50 inch, brown leather belt. A copy of the "Jesus Christ, Superstar" soundtrack, on cassette. A purple cell phone (turned off). Two white tube socks. A white gold band wedding ring. A "get out of jail free" card. Three long stem carrots (borrowed).]
J. I am frozen in a moment of time, with two rabbits as my companions. I just want to stand there, listening to my self breathing, and to experience the "fresh laundry" smell of Peaches and Beauregard. I know there is a good deal for me to experience in the time ahead of me, and preparation is key to the process. I am tingling with expectation, and the hair on the backs of my legs is standing on end in anticipation. I am willing to embrace everything that is before me, and I will do so with an open heart, and an engaged mind. I take one last deep breath, and then turn to say farewell to my two new friends. Beauregard is quick to thump at me, and his curiosity will inspire my future endeavors. Peaches, who has become like a sister to me, embraces me with a whiskery smile, and then runs away. I am alone now with the greatest task of my life, and I turn to walk toward it.
[It is at this moment that we must take the opportunity to acknowledge our sponsors: The Old Solarium at the base of the DVD rack, cardboard, the eight empty record crates, Brutester, 7-Eleven, the flower ramp scratch pad, the greens plate, the nesting tables, Meijer fencing, Willow Tunnel, soy candles, and Alice Notley's latest collection of poetry, Culture of One, in stores on March 29th, 2011.]
K. The first item that I take notice of is the computer. It is an Apple iMac with a 21.5-inch screen. It is currently turned off. The screen is big enough that, if it were a window, I'd be able to put my head through it. It rests on a pedestal, and the whole of it is a sort of gray/silver color, except the frame of the screen, which is a fantastic plastic black. From its behind runs a series of cables, connecting it to an external hard drive, a printer, an iPod station, and several other things. I reach around the back and switch it on. Within seconds, a dozen or more icons appear at the bottom of the screen, and a wallpaper photo featuring Peaches and Beauregard is glowing before me. There are icon options for Safari, Firefox, iPhoto, iTunes, iMovie, Garage Band, TextEdit, Pages, Numbers, and several more. I feel as if the entire world is within my reach, and I am suddenly inspired to write a poem.
[bass
plectrum applies to flatwound
a ceremony
possessing hollow cavities
immutable will and sound
initiate the instrument
finger to fret an eternity!
woofer to ear eternal!
this is creation
an invocation
and the blind girl cries:
"let me feel it become one with it
immerse me in it"
she exclaims:
"I can hear the shades"]
L. The printer is a Hewlet Packard Officejet J4680 All-in-One, and it features a shiny green power button, as well as silver number buttons, an LED display, and several other variously sized buttons. It has both a top-loading option, as well as the standard front-loading option, where a small stack of approximately 40 sheets of paper is currently resting. There are two cables coming from behind it: one which connects it to the computer, and another which connects it to a power strip, which is mounted on the wall behind it. Also, it features a fax machine option, so there is an outlet for that, as well. Inside the machine, there is a black ribbon, and also canisters for black ink and color ink (the color ink canister is currently removed). Finally, there is an option to allow you to make a photo copy, one of which I have included herein.
M. There are several dozen CDs in three separate piles. Included among them are works by legendary jazz composer, Charles Mingus; pioneering electronic musician, Brian Eno; Indian slide guitar virtuoso, Debashish Bhattacharya; iconic '80s noise-rock band, Scratch Acid; bluegrass dobro phenom, Jerry Douglas; beloved upright bass improvisor, Peter Kowald; one hit dance wonder, Deee-Lite; soundscape engineer, Paul Schutze; and indie rock darlings, Yo La Tengo. I get the distinct impression that these CDs are just a few selections from a much larger collection, which I assume occupies an entirely different room of the facility. I am curious to know how they arrived in the cabinet, as the two little rabbits don't seem physically capable of the feat. Are there other, as yet unknown, entities lurking about?
["I am the as-yet-unknown entity. I have fabulous taste in music, as well as literature, art, movies, fashion, and architecture. I drive a red, late model Lamborghini, and I carry a Smith and Wesson revolver in a thigh holster. I am dangerous in more than one way. I am also mysterious and unidentifiable, like Banksy."]
N. There are five books scattered throughout the cabinet space. The first, far to the left, is a well-worn copy of Georges Perec's Species of Spaces and Other Pieces. Clearly somebody has spent a good deal of time with this book, as it is quite dog-eared and beaten. Somebody loves this book. The second is Barrett Watten's Bad History, which I found collecting dust behind the computer screen. It contains a bookmark marking the chapter entitled XII: No Man's Land. This seems ironic, and possibly even significant, given the "location" of the book in the cabinet. The third book is a narrow, hard-bound edition of Luigi Russolo's The Art of Noises. It has a plain, pine green cover, and is in pristine condition. I get the impression this book is very important to someone. The fourth book is a tattered copy of Alice Notley's Disobedience, and it is actually laying open, atop the printer, to a poem entitled "ECHOES THE PAST FUCKS ME OVER AND OVER". This speaks for itself. The fifth book is a handwritten journal, containing meticulously documented details of all that has happened in the cabinet since September of 2009. I have not yet been introduced.
[September 1, 2009 -- Tonight we fled from our room in the basement of Erika's parent's house, knowing that we would never see the rabbits again. We cried for hours afterwards in a cramped, humid motel room, and tried to piece together just what had gone wrong. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I can't see any other way to explain it.]
O. The telephone, mounted on the back wall of the cabinet, to the far right, is a pink, Hello Kitty phone with a built-in answering machine. It is quite old looking, and it was manufactured by GE. The buttons glow green, and are somewhat difficult to depress. There are two wires rising from behind the body of the phone, and they go off to some unknown location behind the cabinet. I attempted to make several phone calls, but due to the fact that they were long distance calls, I was unable to get an outside line. It is at this point that I begin to regret not bringing along my cellular phone, as I had decided I would really enjoy some carry-out.
["Hello, Kitty? Yeah, I'd like to place a carry-out order..."]
P. There's a lot of paper. As a matter of fact, there are literally reams and reams of paper. Some is, of course, blank and ready for use. Some has statistical information printed on it. Some is crumpled up into discarded wads. Some is folded over, and left behind a pen and pencil cozy. Some is posted in order to be more readily visible. Some is dusty beneath the printer. Some is decorative, and on a spool. Some has stains on it (grease, mustard, blood). Some sheets feature strange poetic works by an unnamed author. Some is clearly meant for starting fires. Some is attached to a clipboard. Some is in folders, and binders, and notebooks, and files, and envelopes, and other miscellaneous holders. Some is sticky, and some is not. One particular piece of paper features a note written by me.
[To whom it may concern:
I've come as an approved guest to your cabinet, and I am stunned by the "life" you have managed to contain within it. I feel very strongly that I would be able to sustain myself within your cabinet, and I commend you for your efforts. One thing I would like to mention, however, is the absence of edibles. Would it not be possible to stock the back left corner with some crackers, or cookies, or possibly some beef jerky. Also, a water fountain would be nice. Of course, these are just suggestions. Things are lovely, regardless.
Sincerely,
XXXXXXXXXXX
Pass # 0856-55583]
Q. In my initial post-dream state, I recalled several "tails" within the confines of the space. Turns out, these tails belong to the various electronic "animals" within: the computer, the printer, the lamp, etc. There is an abundance of cables, connecting a modem and an external hard drive to the computer and its printer. There are three power strips, connecting everything to an unseen wall outlet. There are the previously mentioned phone cords. There is even one completely separate cord, which I can't seem to figure out. It doesn't appear to be connected to anything, yet, when I pull on it, it is secure. It is black, but nothing else matches its color. It is very thick, like the cord of an outdoor appliance, yet we are clearly inside. And, there are the "actual" tails, left behind by Peaches and Beauregard. I'll have to make sure I mention this on my way out. I'm sure they would rather not be without them for any considerable period of time.
[Beauregard: "Honey, have you seen my tail?"
Peaches: "What tail?"
Beauregard: "The white one with the fluffy tips."
Peaches: "Oh, I threw that old thing away."
Beauregard: "What?! You know I love that tail. You purposely threw it away to annoy me."
Peaches: "Just kidding. We both left our tails behind in the cabinet."
Beauregard: "Oh my god! I was so scared, and pissed."
Peaches: "You're so gullible."
Beauregard: "Whatever..."]
R. Throughout the entire cabinet, in all corners and on all surfaces, you can find some sort of writing utensil. There are black and blue Sharpie's. There are three wooden pens, carved into the shapes of roosters (fat, white polka-dotted; long, red breasted; squat, metallic green bodied). There are fine-tipped red markers, and fat-tipped yellow highlighters. There are several crayons, mostly in some shade of brown. There are wooden #2 pencils, and retractable ones (with and without erasers). There are even an abundance of cheap Bic pens, the see-thru kind with the removable caps. Then, there is a big plastic container holding hundreds of varied instruments, most of which no longer actually write. (It is important to note that this container is marked with the ominous skull and crossbones insignia.)
[BEWARE OF BROKEN
WRITING UTENSILS]
S. The light, or lamp, as some may prefer to call it, is approximately 10 inches tall, and features a cloudy glass dome and a 30-watt compact fluorescent bulb. It stands behind the computer screen, giving everything a sort of backlit feel. (This was obviously not the original, blinding light source we first encountered in the cabinet. This still remains unknown to me.) It has a rolling on/off switch, which is attached to a see-thru power cord, and this runs about 3 feet in length, and is attached to one of the power strips. This is the only readily available light source for the cabinet, and it is sufficient, given you've some kind of room light behind you. It is a mild light; exactly the kind one would look to employ if he were composing poetry, or writing his thoughts down in a personal journal.
[I have long looked for the light, throughout this ravaged land, and I find it almost absurd that I have encountered it here, of all places. Is this not a closet, or some sort of pantry? Regardless, I am delighted to finally be with the light, and its magical rays. These are the rays of my existence, and I am proudly illuminated within them. All hail the light! My people!]
T. The inside of the left door features several greeting cards tacked up. Several of them seem to feature messages from a mother to a son, and are of the "sentimental" variety. One, featuring a pink heart about to burst, contains a Mark Twain quote: "To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with." There are also a couple of cards featuring rabbits, though neither of them appear to showcase Peaches and/or Beauregard. Nonetheless, the rabbits are extremely cute. There are a couple different types of postage stamps, and a few receipts. There are two 3 x 5 cards, with personal information written on them. One contains ID numbers and passwords for various online accounts. Curiously, there is a postcard featuring a painting by American Tonalist painter, James Abbott Whistler. The painting, done in 1874, is entitled Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket. It is a very odd piece, but seems quite at home on the inside of the left door. Lastly, there is a cardboard cutout of two embracing gnomes: one wearing a large green conical hat and a pointy red beard, and the other a crown, fairy wings, and a striking yellow dress. This appears to have been artwork used as the topper on somebody's wedding cake. I wonder if this belongs to Peaches and Beauregard?
[I am a card collector. I collect cards of rabbits and famous works of art. I am a card. I collect rabbits and works of art. I am sentimental. I am married to a gnome. I am not married to another gnome. I have a mother who is also sentimental, and was also once married to a gnome. She is currently unmarried, though she is looking for a new gnome. She is a card, and a collector. She does not collect rabbits. I am also the as-yet-unknown entity. Do you feel you're getting to know me any better? How about my mother? I am uncomfortable. You must be. My mother is sweating on her cards.]
U. The inside of the right door features almost exclusively greeting cards. There is one featuring the characters of the movie, Tommy Boy. Another features a face-down clown with a bright red afro wig. Another features a black and white photograph of the Silent Monks of the Carthusian Monastery. And, of course, there are several that feature rabbits. There are Christmas rabbits, a birthday rabbit, and a halloween rabbit, featuring threatening fangs. Also, there is a photograph of another rabbit: Peaches. She is standing on her hind legs, reaching for a treat coming from an outstretched human hand. Her ears (she is a lop) are out to the side, creating a wing-like effect. In addition to all the rabbit stuff, there is an assortment of business cards, a doctor's letter prescribing and describing a proper diabetic diet, a blank check, a drawing done by a very young child, and a cardboard cutout of a chicken. And, in the top right-hand corner, going almost unnoticed, is a small mugshot-like photograph, featuring an unnamed blonde woman. She is wearing a striped blouse, with a very low cut neckline. I am intrigued.
[Perhaps you'd like to go out on a date sometime?]
V. Above the computer and the printer, and just inside the top of the cabinet, is a small shelf. And, for a small shelf, it contains a lot of stuff. It contains a brown wicker basket with a white cloth ribbon tied around it. (The contents of the basket are invisible to me.) There is a spindle of blank CDs, which is mostly used up. There is a plastic container, which holds a tape dispenser, batteries, a small copper flashlight, a package of earplugs, a small, portable stapler, and a Rubik's cube. There are several more CDs, including multi-disc boxed sets by Rhys Chatham and Tony Conrad. There is a copy of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer video game, designed for the XBox system. And, there are several DVD movies, including The Dead Girl, Volver, The Orphanage and The Last King of Scotland. Also, this top shelf is very dusty.
[In the Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu mentions something about becoming one with the dust of the earth. This has always been appealing to me, because it offers one a deeply spiritual excuse for shirking the duties of cleaning house. However, more importantly, I think it rather succinctly addresses matters of personal hygiene, and blind, trusting uniformity.]
W. One important element that has remained unmentioned until this point, is the pullout work surface. This surface exists just under the main surface, and is recessed beneath until needed. When one pulls it out, you find the all-important keyboard for the computer, as well as its "mouse". The keyboard is silver and white, with black numbering and lettering. It features the standard keyboard keys, as well as a telephone-style dialing bad on the far right hand side. It is very light and compact, and it is connected to the main computer by a thin white cord. Also, attached to the keyboard, is a black cord used for connecting an iPod to the iTunes system. This appears to have received a lot of use. The "mouse" is a black-bodied Logitech, with a dark maroon rolling ball designed to be operated by the right hand thumb. The "mouse" is connected to the computer by an oddly thick black cord, and it is very lightweight in construction. (I would actually recommend this for anyone currently searching for a new "mouse".)
X. There are two drawers to the bottom right. The top one is the more shallow of the two, and is obviously designed to hold office supply items, like replacement tape, staples, 3 x 5 cards, paper clips, Post-it notes, and a three-hole punch. (All of these items can indeed be found in the top-most drawer of the cabinet.) It also might contain spare cables, extra folders, remote controls, and printer cartridges. (Also, all of these items are found in the top-most drawer of the cabinet.) The bottom drawer, which is much deeper, is clearly designed to serve as a sort of "filing cabinet" drawer. It is fitted with brackets on the inside that would make it possible to hang file folders. This is indeed how the owner of the cabinet has chosen to use the drawer, but there are other things lurking in the drawer, as well. I found, within the bottom drawer, a suspicious looking package advertising "anti-virus software". It was enclosed in a plastic bag, and hidden beneath some other items. Also of note: A snow globe featuring the naked characters of the 1970s television cartoon, Scooby Doo, Where Are You?, complete with the "Mystery Machine", and floating "Scooby Snack" snow.
[I've found your Sudoku book, and I've solved the first thirteen puzzles incorrectly, using a felt tip marker, so that you won't be able to correct them. My goal is to make you look like a fool! By the way, that's my Scooby Doo toy, and you better not break it. It's vintage, you fucking savage! Clearly, you have no appreciation for the finer things in life. (Sometimes I like to take off all of my clothes, and pretend I'm solving mysteries, just like Fred and Velma, and the gang. As a matter of fact, I'm solving one right now. Uhhh... Ohhh... which way did they go? Who's that sexy bastard in the gorilla costume?)]
Y. There are a few other compartments, containing more paper, and folders, and binders and such, but nothing terribly interesting. So, I decide my visit to the cabinet is over, and I begin to turn things off. First, I turn off the computer, and say goodbye to the wallpaper of Peaches and Beauregard. Second, I reach behind the computer screen and switch off the mild lamp. Third, I press the illuminated green button on the printer, to insure that it is in "power-save" mode. When everything is properly switched off, I push in all of the drawers, and the pull-out, keyboard surface, and reach up to close the doors. As I do this, I realize that Peaches and Beauregard are beneath me, one at each door, assisting in the closing process. Beauregard even has a key ring, which he uses to lock some unnoticed lock near the bottom of the cabinet. I sneeze, and Peaches indicates that I am to be blessed, and the three of us walk away together.
[THE CABINET TOURS -- Visitation Rates:
1-hour mini-visitation: $275.00
2-hour standard visitation: $400.00 (best value)
3-hour guided tour: $1000.00
Overnight stay: See Manager
All visitations and tours must be booked at least 30 days in advance. No pets, or children under 18, or terrorists, will be allowed. No exceptions! All violators will be punished to the fullest extent of the law.]
Z. I reach down and stroke Beauregard's "mohawk", and caress the silky soft ears of Peaches. They are very friendly with me. They lead me back to the stuffed green ottoman, and I find that all of my things have been returned. As I am packing up to leave, I notice, out of the corner of my eye, I mysterious veiled figure standing off in the distance. The rabbits don't seem to notice him, and I can't quite make out his identity, but he is definitely there, nonetheless. I look down to notice that the last thing to be packed is my Sudoku book. I flip through it to find that it has been vandalized. Several of the puzzles have been solved, in ink! Who would do such a thing? And then, I see a note, scrawled to me on the final page: "'til we meet again. Sincerely, the as-yet-unknown entity." Well, that's enough for me. I gather up all my things, wave goodbye to the rabbits, and return to my bedroom door. I stop to look one last time, and the veiled figure is gone. I enter my room, throw down my stuff, take off all my clothes, and climb into bed. I'm asleep in a matter of seconds.
[To be continued...]
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