House Guests

It sure is nice to have company.

I used to be alone here. Only the radio and the breeze coming through the windows kept me company.

Then they all started showing up.

The first one came in October. The leaves were a beautiful bright orange, there was a slight nip in the air; it made one yearn for the apple orchard with the smells of donuts, fresh pressed cider, and the delightful odor of goats and fresh crap in the air.

I was playing a my favorite record, Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House, when I heard a knock at the door. It wasn't really a knock, it was something I felt rather than heard, but it prompted me to get up just the same as if someone had physically knocked. I looked out the kitchen window. There was a young man on my porch. He looked confused.

Turns out his car was parked just down the road, near the secluded nature preserve. He'd just killed himself in it. His body still sits in the driver's seat with a shotgun lying across his lap.

I've found people do that sometimes, especially since the recession started.

But there he was, on my porch, looking confused. I welcomed him in and we sat for a long time.

Once the confusion seemed to go away, I found him to be quite the conversationalist. He was a nice guy. He knew a lot about how to repair things, and since he arrived, has given me wonderful tips about fixing my old refrigerator.

An old lady came next. She didn't say much, but had the warmest smile and understanding eyes you'd ever had the pleasure of looking into.

Word must have gotten out somehow, and now there's quite a few people. One group of young ladies showed up one day, said they'd been walking around the area together since the late 1960's looking for someone to welcome them in. They were all quite pretty, with long hair. They would look extremely worried though, if they heard the sound of a motorcycle passing by on the road out front. Several of them used to be nursing students, and even guided me through the day I tripped on a rotted board on my porch and broke my ankle. They told me what to do, and I took care of it myself.

I wish I could touch them. I often think it would be nice to feel the warmth of these young ladies as they sit around me on the couch talking.

I have so many house guests that I have to wear a jacket indoors most of the time.

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Rang S. Tylus is one strange son of a bitch who has a bachelor's degree in who knows what. He earns his money as a dildo billboard builder, you know the kind. Billboards with realtors or politicians advertisements. He likes peanut butter.