In Room 103 he was laying there dead. His eyes were dilated. It might be five more days before he will be discovered, in this inactive state.
Under the shadows of San Francisco’s Transamerica Building, in a much smaller building, where the dead man lay, another man stood on a ladder seemingly unaware of the inactivity in Room 103. In his hands he held a hammer and nail, and a notice, and was positioning himself so that he could display it. After three ‘whacks’ from his hammer, the notice, now readable, read: Now celebrating the third day in our building without a murder or suicide.
Just at that moment, James Redburn walked into the apartment complex. Quickly now, he ran over to the man on the ladder. He grabbed the end of the ladder to stabilize it, “Are you sure of that? Three days without a suicide or murder?” The man on the ladder just looked down at James and smiled.
James searched back in his head; he thought of last year, he could only remember the dozen or so murders, and also suicides, that happened all in that one prolific day. He couldn’t remember ever having three days pass without a murder or a suicide. And, he thought, “That’s not even including accidental deaths!” So …It was good news for James Redburn and all the other occupants that lived under the shadows of San Francisco’s Transamerica Building.
It was such good news for James he had the urge, actually the need to tell somebody. So James ran to his next door neighbor. They had become close, as of late, and had traded keys with each other ---just in case. So James let himself in and saw his friend resting on the couch. He sat down right next to his friend and exclaimed, “Can you believe it ---three days without a murder, and also, three days without a Suicide! If this keeps up I might extend my lease. Wow!”
Soon though, as is the nature with James, he stated moving backwards. With his exceptional memory he started to get into the specifics of that one prolific day, the day with the dozen or so murders and also suicides. First he remembered the electrocution. With a morbid laugh he started, “Remember, we all stood outside at midnight waiting for the energy to be turned on. The poor bastard shorted- out the entire building. I still can’t believe it!”
And then then he talked about the second murder that day, and then, the second suicide. James was relentless, not missing a single murder or suicide, one after another horrific murder and suicide.
And to make things worse, if he didn’t ---‘quite get it right’, he’d back up and start from the beginning. James got into every frigging morbid detail. He didn’t stop his monologue for an hour ---Straight!
Soon though, since James isn’t a complete idiot, he realized he had been ‘going on’, with barely a breath, for at least an hour, but hadn’t gotten a response from his next door neighbor. He felt a courtesy had passed him by. He quickly got up, apologized, and let himself out.
He walked down to the man that stood on the ladder, “Geez ---that guy up in Room 103 is really pissed at me. I thought we were friends. He won’t even talk.”
“Huh!”
“Well, I told him about the notice you posted, you know, the three days without a murder or suicide. And, well, I guess I talk too much. I don’t know?”
“You mean the guy up in Room 103?”
“Ya, 103.”
“The guy in Room 103 is fuking dead. I’m waiting here for the coroner.” James looked like he had been cheated, “Well, does this notice about the three days without a murder or suicide? ---Does is still count?”
“Of course it doesn’t, I was trying to cheer everybody up. The guy in Room 103, who at this particular moment I can’t remember his name, nonetheless, was a man who we all loved so much.”
Following his caring motivations, and figuring out the man’s name; at the funeral, James gave a long-winded eulogy.
