Sunday, 10 May 2015

Escape from Maxx's Gaff (If You Say It Fast, It Sounds Like It RhymesWith Alcatraz. Honest. Go on. Try It.)

Day Five, 0545hrs
I was late for work this morning. My sleep was broken and uneven, punctuated by moans and groans from Maxx's room. I can only assume he had decided to view one of his many pornographic DVDs late in the night and his vigorous and vocal appreciation of the film had been long and loud. Realising the hour, I leapt from the bed and pulled on some pants. 
I opened the door a crack, and put my hand over my mouth to force back the bile that had climbed my throat. Maxx was wearing some sort of transparent kimono and dancing with an invisible partner in the sitting room. Temporarily frozen in horror, I stood staring as he made his final pirouette. There was no music, which made the whole display even stranger. 
He pupils, though minuscule, widened slightly as he rounded to face me, which I took as a recognition of my presence. His hands dropped to his sides to hide his modesty and he took off out the back door. I grabbed my Myki and dashed out the door, fervently hoping my brain would do me a favour and suppress the entire scenario. I'll probably need to consume a lot of alcohol to aid this process, but I'll do it - for my health.

Day Seven, 1830hrs
The cafe is closed today due to a bank holiday. The Boyfriend is working, however. He leaves at the crack of dawn and I bring my book and accompany him. He spends the entire day doing his jobs, while I simultaneously read and sleep in his ute. It was better than the alternative.

Day Eight, 2143hrs
We sat down to watch a movie tonight. Maxx was out the back in his shed/house, distributing pills to his neighbours' children. As you do.
The police stopped by half way through Adam Sandler's epiphany. They asked us where Maxx had been that day and what had he been doing. Tod, our housemate, was somehow shunted to the front door to answer the police queries. 
The officers were about seven feet tall and wide, with huge guns toted at their belts and looks of extreme disdain plastered across their chiseled faces. I was, for some unknowable reason, convinced we were going to be arrested and went in to the bedroom to retrieve our passports, as if they would be of any discernible use in a drugs bust against our dodgy landlord. I'm not all that great at thinking on my feet so when it was my turn to answer whether I knew of Maxx's previous whereabouts, I simply gurgled and felt my eyes fill with tears.
I loathe myself at times. Actually, most of the time.
Tod was thankfully able to brush aside my muteness and convince the men that we were innocent and frankly clueless as to what was going on in the house. 
We need to move out. Tod and Copper don't have the money for a deposit somewhere else but surely they see the necessity in getting away from this semi-naked nazi and all his associated madness?

Day Ten, 1057hrs:
I got really, really poleaxed last night. I'm talking five litre boxes of wine poleaxed. All I remember from the evening is confronting Maxx in his silken - and free-hanging - bathrobe. I slurred and pointed my finger aggressively and shouted that he was, in my opinion, "reeeeeallly, reeeeeeeally fuckin' weeeeird. Like, reeeeeeaaallllshsshshhhhlurrrp." I then sort of slumped into my own lap, finger still doing a fine jaunt in Maxx's direction. Oh, alcohol. How you transform me.
Max stared at me for a while and sucked in a wet breath.
He replied, bug-eyed and unblinkingly; "I like you."
I kid you not.
I think I might die here.

Day Fourteen 1236hrs:
We have convinced Tod and Copper of the urgency of finding somewhere else to live. Maxx declared the front garden as a cigarette-free area, which was pretty much a notice of inhabitability in our eyes.
Tod and Copper had decided they weren't going to pay the owed last weeks rent and so our departure is to be silent and stealthy. 
I've decided to wear the fluffiest pair of socks I own, so as to dull my walk out the door.
 Stealth defined, me. 

Day Fifteen 1647hrs:
Tod occupied Maxx with pointless conversation, while The Boyfriend carried our belongings from the house of horrors to the ute. 
At one stage, I saw The Boyfriend literally duck and roll with a laundry bag in his arms. 

Day Sixteen 1023hrs
We are out! We are free! We are fobbing off Maxx's phone calls with impromptu hang-ups and lots of "going though tunnels"! 
Ah, the liberty. Everything is going to be a-okay, from here on in. We're living with good friends, in a good area. It's good vibes all 'round. 
I might try and give up the cigarettes again! 

Day Twenty One 1545hrs
Everything is not a-okay.
And I just bought forty Marlborough Gold. 

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