Sonata Sleepless

By Gage Washburn

The name’s Danny... and I'm a recluse.

TRUE FICTION.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483586083

Book preview

End

INTRODUCTIONS

The name’s Danny… and I’m a recluse.

Not a jobbernowl or a juggins, but a xenophile to the accidie ways of the recluse.

In other words, I have been bestowed a gift consisting of no responsibilities. Agoraphobia… a curse some say it to be, but it is mine and mine to do with whatever I damn well please. The world beyond these confined walls; in which I’ve immured myself within… is completely forinsecal.

I know nothing of the mores of today… Well, except for what she brings to show-and-tell of course.

Cheers to the beginning of paradox.

Sort of funny how easily we allow ourselves to be succumbed by the miasma one eagerly lives for, and more than often with ghoulish locution under faint breathes and in quotations, Dies for.

Fadoodle… My ostentatious attempts are bleak, bland, and blah. Even a bit opaque, but that’s the mind. V.P.V. Vapid, Prattling, Verbiage. A pangram should suffice; the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

If only I knew what the fuck I meant.

Let us get to the miens of me.

Thick shaggy un-kept chestnut hair resides upon my galeiform dome. Stubbly, rough scruff, just as P150 grit sandpaper litters my sunken cheeks, dimpled chin, memory stained neck, and scarred upper lip. Eyes are gray as the moon on a cool midsummer’s night. Skin as ash… Hands and feet considerably large for a stature of 5’8" and a 143lbs… Just as my ears… Straight Ferengi.

Nappy, cause I’m sappy; prefer to air dry after a scheduled daily showering. Sleepless nights and minor self diagnosed insomniac with one hell of a shitty diet. I’m talking strictly and precisely…Vitamin D store branded milk from the local market on the corner known as, NORMAN’S. Most important of all and simply finale… good o’l classic Lucky Charmed serial, "They’re magically delicious!"

All thanks to my landlord, Miss Daisy. She’s a short and stubby peachy gal, bout the size of a grinded down stump; that has been dressed and powdered up like a plagued nonagenarian mistress from the early 1700’s.

…Wow…

Three years, twenty-eight days, fourteen hours, sixteen minutes, and eighteen seconds. A ghastly dying canvas with no sense of purpose; I’ve remained.

She sure is kind.

I do in fact, and utterly most certainty… Wield within this supposed charming chiseled grin; the finest pearly whites! From the day they came in, to the day them brace faced bastardous shit canned school days came to an end, and wala!

Here we are.

A fucking talentless bimbo sleaze-bagging celeb, couldn’t buy a finer smile.

Thanks genetics…

…Can’t even remember the last time I’ve smiled… Can I smile? Is that even a thing?

¿SmilinG?

Wizened vicissitudes.

No clothes, but the hides I bare this very moment. That of course being a ‘Sonata Sleepless’ logo themed pocket shirt. Which a slight tear lie frayed. From what, I cannot remember. As in fact, it indeededly with minor ignorance to proper English, and most likely part of all that is of most unimportance, to that of what is to come.

Last and not to be least of ones habiliment, but a pair of the finest boxer briefs crafted from out an ancient Native god’s mackinaw, by and from the Navajo of Taos, New Mexico. Brown Town’s finest… so I’ve heard.

Bread and Butter, baby. Bread and Butter…

… Actually no. PB and J! Goodbye Double B friends! For you mustn’t fret, but PB and J, I find to be a bit more engaging when it come down to their salacious schemes. Slipping, sliding, and grinding up, down, left, right, and around! A parody best fit for those in search of that perfect wet dream. Whatever that may mean.

Oh, and as their consummation in the art of adultery comes to a most morbid of halts… The two star-crossed lovers are devoured and later digested into a single unified monstrosity! Known and referred to, as a, Shit Sandwich.

I do have a single set of jeans from when I was an obese pig of a motherfucker. I never wear em, as I never go anywhere, but here.

My apartment remains a steady 75 degrees Fahrenheit at all times. I’m never cold really. Thanks to the location of a most wholesome dry cleaners located just below me. I only know this, as I had mentioned Miss Daisy and her part in my friggen, frackin, fucked up self indulged miserable aimless life.

Anyhoo, I don’t plan on writing a novel or really anything for the matter. Nor would I care to… so don’t fuckin expect one.

Do feel free to HIGHLIGHT and take notes though. Obelize for that matter. I know I can be a bit of a Chatty Kathy… What a shitty name to have. KaThY?

Why is it thick chicks, seem to have the best personalities?

… Hmm…

Sanctuary… My gracious, most of humble of abodes, I bid you welcome! Never mind the dust, as it is merely dead skin particles. Please watch your step. Not that there’s anything to trip on, or anything like that. There just ain’t much light is all. I’ll pull back a couple of the o’l ‘Alley Oop’ strips back from off the two windows across the way, and… Let there be light!

Fuliginous yes, and a lil frowst… but kitchens to the left, and the living room dead ahead, as you should clearly be able see by now, with the comic strips pealed back from off the windows there… Remember? Hallway to the right, and a bit more centered with the living room. Bathroom to the right, and bedroom on left there, just down the hall at the end.

BEEP BEEP! BEEP BEEP! BEEP BEEP!

Shmoke break!

…Few…

God, I love menthol. ‘Mrs. White’s 100’s’! I’ve an argosy lifetime supply, thanks to ‘Disney’.

Ya, I know what your thinking, Ewww! He’s a smoker?! Does he not know it’s 2016? Does he not know them cancer sticks ain’t cool no more?! Jesus Christ! 360 billion cigarettes are smoked in the United States alone and that’s fucked as is! That’s 135 pounds of death a year! You make me sick! Shit! You make the purity of the holy fucking world sick! Fuck your halitosis!

-Or-

For those caught within the felicity of sweet soul warming Nikki, Chill man; you makin a brotha nervous over here. Shit, got me sweaten. You got a fan or somethin? Goddamn, I need a cigarette. Yo, any one got a stoge?! I ain’t lookin for no saturnine sapient bullshit. Just a butt, aight?

Well, whatever your opinions are. Great, good to know you live in a country that allows you to have one.

You’re absolutely offal.

Walls once white, but over the past years, the hundreds of smoked cigarettes, stained the walls in tobacco. The kitchen is fair. Has your basic set up… A fridge, stove, broken microwave, some cupboards, sink, some utensil shit, and rotted waterlogged black and white linoleum flooring. The bathroom’s practically the same. Only difference is it’s a bathroom. A toilet, sink, and a single bath; all an off white porcelain if you were curious. As for the though, it’s straight cement. For when I had first moved in, I had to rip up the tile, cause it was too slippery whenever I would take a shower. That’d be due to the fact; I’d rather rip up tile then have to buy a shower curtain and bath mat.

My bedroom is lame. It’s a complete square. Kinda how folk sometimes see me. Got a queen sized old mattress I had found near a two-headed hairless puddy tat, in the alley down stairs next door. Rest in peace and thank Susej for shovels. A make shift nightstand of old comics. With my cell phone and charger, which is connected to the one and only outlet across the room. I’ve run a 20ft extension cord, so it may reach… And YES! I know! Why not rearrange the queen sized old mattress and makeshift comic book nightstand to the other side of the room? Well, let me ask you, Do you know the hassle?!.

Almost forgot… The living room is a burnt orange-shagged carpet with a dirty old damaged leather couch patched in duck tape. Three to five pictures from National Geographic magazines, which I had torn out are framed and hung upon my living room walls.

NOTE: This is the only room in which yields wood planked walls. Sort of like an old ship… probably from the deck off that classic tale ‘Moby Dick’.

One last thing… My most prized possession and best friend, TV. I love her more than anything or anyone. I adore you my precious 24 inch 4:3 ratio 1980’s colored TV.

Oh, and you’ve got this thing called an imagination. It’s pretty great. You should try her out sometime. Envisage for Pete’s sake. You never know where you just might go.

‘Oh, the places we’ll go!’

SONATA SLEEPLESS

A tasteful art house drama esc tune rolls. Heart slows, as eyes widen. I am one with TV.

Show time…

FUR

Ladies and Gentlemen! Germs and Worms! Freaks and Geeks and Anyone With or Without a Damned Forsaken Soul! I present and give unto to you, the eye bleeding viewer… ‘SonatA SleeplesS’! I’m your friendly neighborhood, host of hosts, FUR! As for these three beautiful bastards, with nowhere to go, but GO! GO! GO! On this delightfully non-stop twenty-three and a half hour, all day every day show of shows! Presenting! First and always first, is indubitably the worse, BEAK BEAKER! ShA-SeW-ZuL!

BEAK BEAKER

Like anyone really has anything better to do.

FUR

Bitter sweet, and shooting straight up and down, and a smidgens to the left there, número deux! Everyone’s loveable cream diggin sugar daddy, PINKY! ShI-ShaW-ZanG!

PINKY

You sure do know how to make a fella bashful. Shoot! Look at me… Blushing! Thank God’s fine ass and Mr. Doughnut Maker I haven’t got a lisp. It’s not easy being Mike Tyson.

FUR

Understatement, but no time better than now… For last and not to be least, but tends to be a bit of a piece. Folded not once, nor twice, but time and time again, CRANE! FeE-FoO-HaY-O!

CRANE

Now that’s respect! Truly superb, dear Fur! BravO!

Preludes don’t get much better then that.

THA-THOOMP!

Mail Man. Doesn’t stop by often, but when he does… It tends to always be my least of all favorite people, Mother…

…Guess I gotta get up from off my lazy ass and let the sofa have a breather, while I check ‘er out, dammit.

Fuckin hate mail day… Nearly every fuckin day for Christ sakes! Always taking precious time from my ever so gracious day.

Hmm, let us see here…

… Just as assumed a letter from…

… Wait, the hell is this?

FUCK! Rent. Didn’t see that coming, but coincidentally speaking of the blood sucking devil… I’m gonna have to call my Mother, and let her know she’s forgotten to pay this months rent once a friggen gain. Ever since the Alzheimer’s settled in, she’s been off the o’l, so said, Rocker. Entire day ruined! Alzheimer’s or not! She knows my situation, and it’s most unfortunate, sad, loserish, fuck-faced, dip-shit, slacker assed, bitch boy, pussy fartin, reclused, cock sucking, cunt bummer of a shituation!

No apologies.

‘Sonata Sleepless’ is gonna have to be put on hold for the moment, but no worries… No more than a moment.

The purr of the dial tone reminds me of Mother’s wheezing lung bags.

DANNY

Hey Ma, it’s Danny… Yup… Mhm… Ya… Appreciated… Bye.

Alas, we are alone in the presence of what some could or had considered to be luxury. I mean, I just thought she’d never shut up! I know she’s my Mother and all, but seriously… There’s no time for that shit; I’ve got enough on my plate as is.

But… You know what? ‘2Pac’ was right. You are appreciated.

Back to ‘Sonata Sleepless’…

FUR

Yippy Ki Ya! Ostentatious as always!

CRANE

I tell a madam when her ass is fat, sir! A gentleman I am, but as all gentlemen must know; only the truest of gentlemen are honest ones, by golly! Rather it break a heart or two, maybe even a couple of bones. Honesty is the absolute way about it, friends.

BEAK BEAKER

You buddy, ain’t no gentleman. You pal, are simply desperate. That’s why you say stupid shit like that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it or nothin like that, but good luck. Break a leg. Do you. Be a crane, Crane.

PINKY

Ever try that straight and to the point blunt honesty on a man? Well, let me tell you… Pinky’s got you, Booga Loo. WooF WooF!

FUR

Holy ShaMolY! You mad cats are getting out of whack! Do Continue!

PINKY

Speaking of getting out of whack. What do you say you three and I end this episode early, and hit the green room. I’m thinkin we do a renovation of our choosing, and paint that bitch! DiggY MoW! DiggY MoW!

CRANE

Good God! You truly are a bastard, Pinky! Why, if I had any sort of hands, by power of God’s fearsome wrath! I’d remove thy velvety gloves, in which embrace them… and slap that pasty arsed face of yours! How rude to assume a Man of my degree, to take a break from his job! Not just any break either, but an orgy!

PINKY

Oh, come on. You know that’s right down my alley, Craney McBrainy!

CRANE

Of course I may or may not love it, but the problem my kindled bloke, is… I clocked in, and when I clock in! I work…

BEAK BEAKER

I’m a stuffed Penguin, so I’ve never clocked in, but on the DL, I’m down for pretty much whatever. As long as the money’s up front… we groovy.

CRANE

Great! Just great. My two best friends are officially together gayly, and I’m still single! Blessed be the Queen, but why the fuck did I clock in today?

FUR

EnougH! This is ‘SONATA SLEEPLESS’! Not some Tom Hanks, ‘Sleepless in Seattle’ romance! Now is not the time, ya rapscallion juveniles! Let us get back on par here, shall we? The viewer is watching.

PINKY

You know the mind.

BEAK BEAKER

Gets a bit sidetracked, like a commercial.

CRANE

Undoubtedly, good sir!

FUR

ON with the ShoW!

Hit the DOWN NOTE!

Deaths from all over the country continue to grow drastically within the span of the past few years. From what, no body knows, but from whom is the question at hand friends! A peculiar presence is to blame for these proclaimed suicides. Some say the being to be a man with an oversized cube head of glooping, glopping, butter! Others state the life form to be a god!

…Last known location of the killer, was…

BEAK BEAKER

Wait! Hold the fuck up! You tellin us that some psycho momma’s boy is out their killin off folks from an over populated species?! What a crock of shit! One guy roaming the country and making worthless fucks commit harakiri! Go to hell. ButteR FacE Bitch! Any one can be a god, as long as another believes them to be so!

CRANE

I wouldn’t joke of such things now Beaky. Karma’s a bitch, and not a bitch to be fucked with mate.

BEAK BEAKER

Why should I care?! Has nothing to do with me! It’s them assholes watching too much damn TV, to know what’s good for em! I know we’re endless amounts of fun, but hello! There’s a killer amongst ya’ll!

PINKY

Killer shpiller. All malarkey if ya ask me. You really believe one guy could do all that damage in a span of three or so years without any trace?! There’s just no way! Has to be the Illuminati! Better yet, The…

BEAK BEAKER

Three words!! FUCK… THAT… PRICK!

…Come home already, would ya?

FUR

In do time. Unless… He’s already there.

CRANE

You know, I’m now a tad less curious and no longer interested, but disinterested. Make sense mate? Guy’s a nymph, that’s it.

PINKY

Who ever it may be is innocent. I’ve got the hunch! I believe it to be something much, much bigger! Hang in there man! They are watching! I’m a fucking cream filled and filling pink fucking doughnut for Christ fucking sakes! That’s a miracle within it self! You’ve gotta trust me on this one… Not really. I just felt like going against the tide and arguin. What’s the fun when everyone’s on the same side anyways? Tension keeps one suspended! Just the way I gotta have em too!

Who’s your daddy?

FUR

The hypnotic, mind bending, and altering suicide killer does exist and is at large. Rather it is one, none, or everyone! Folks are dying. That should do it for this morning’s most ironic of DOWN NOTES. HA-HA-HA!

Nice thing about the whole spiel is I’m a recluse. Ain’t no way no ‘Sonata Sleepless’ Killer is gonna get Danny. Simple as that; bit of dirt ain’t hurt nobody. Brush it off and move along. Deonerate the negativity that stands in ones way, and you shall be lifted. Not really, just easier to push things to the side and shrug the o’l shoulders and say somethin along the lines of, Never mind or Whateva.

Pretty much, "Fuck it".

Not one for getting mixed up in any sort of cabal.

CRANE

Even if this godly butter faced butcher were one of Georgia May Jagger’s front teeth, you’d never see em coming!

BEAK BEAKER

That’s what she said!

CRANE

Seriously! Don’t start that Steve Carell, ‘Office’ shat. You know I prefer the original you fucking cock! Ricky Gervais is the one and the