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Authors: Malachi King
Tags: General Fiction
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Apartment Building E
By Malachi King
Jack Bronson walked into the office of Riverside Acres Apartments hoping to be hired on the spot. A sign on the door read: MANAGER’S OFFICE—BILL FRISK.
Jack had earlier seen an ad in the paper for a janitor’s position at Riverside. It had been tucked neatly under an ad looking for someone who knew massages “like the back of your hand” and on top of one that shouted “WORK FROM HOME! $1000-5000 PER MONTH.” He remembered thinking, what kind of fool would call that number ? The torn paper in his hand had the ad for the janitor’s position he was applying for, and part of the WORK FROM HOME ad. I might be that kind of fool if I don’t get this job, Jack thought. He stuffed the piece of paper in his jeans pocket as the office door closed behind him.
A fat, sweaty bald man looked up from his desk. He had a book in his shaky hands and his reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose. Jack made out part of the book title: …House of Usher.
“Yeah?” Bill Frisk drawled. The room smelled of sweat and cigar smoke. Fat Man smokes Swisher Sweets, Jack noted.
“I saw an ad in the paper for a janitor’s position and I think I’m your man.” He had rehearsed this and it had sounded good at home in front of the bathroom mirror. Now it just sounded rehearsed and Jack’s voiced cracked when he said “man.”
Mr. Frisk got excited. “Oh. Yes! We certainly are. Glad you came by! Have a seat, have a seat.” He motioned to a chair in front of the desk with a wave of his hand.
Jack sat and extended his hand. “Jack Bronson. I’ve worked as a janitor for Thomson’s Middle School for two years and right now I’m between jobs.”
There was an ashtray full of cigar butts and a pack of Swisher Sweets lying on the desk. Bill Frisk leaned forward and shook his hand. Jack noticed with disgust that Bill’s hand was clammy and wet with sweat. Gross. This guy’s a pig.
“We are certainly looking for someone, no doubt.” Bill fidgeted nervously with some papers scattered in front of him, his eyes darting back and forth. “Can’t seem to hold on to ’em…” His voice trailed off.
Jack smelled whiskey. Maybe I’ve come at a bad time, he thought but didn’t say. He needed this job badly and wasn’t about to leave just because this guy acted like he was going to have a nervous breakdown right in front of him. Just give me the job first before you off yourself, he thought.
“Well, I can keep the building clean and maintained if you like. No problem there. I used to be a plumber, actually. I worked in Carson City for five years before—”
“I see, I see.” Bill interrupted. Then he looked Jack in the eye, “Have you ever had any trouble with people?” His placid face was pale. He looked desperate.
“No, not at all.”
“Then the job is yours. You’ll be in charge of Apartment Building E, the last one down at the end of the lot behind the big willow tree. There are forty units, ten each floor; you’ll get ten dollars an hour. Here’s the keys. The maintenance room is around the back.” Then he added, “Good luck.”
Jack got the feeling Bill Frisk wanted him to leave. The feeling was mutual and Jack left.
Riverside Acres Apartments had been built in a middle class neighborhood and began with one building built and owned by A.R. Wallace. He was a descendent of the famous Alfred Russell Wallace, collaborator of Charles Darwin and the theory of natural selection. Wallace had developed his ideas the same time as Darwin and they published a joint paper before Darwin’s Origin of Species went to print. It was speculated that Wallace was selected out of evolutionary history because of his distasteful involvement in the occult. There were rumors he even experimented on hybrid plants with psychedelic effects.
Jack drove into the apartment complex and took note of the beautiful maple and apple blossom trees that adorned the landscape. Apartment buildings A and B
By Malachi King
Jack Bronson walked into the office of Riverside Acres Apartments hoping to be hired on the spot. A sign on the door read: MANAGER’S OFFICE—BILL FRISK.
Jack had earlier seen an ad in the paper for a janitor’s position at Riverside. It had been tucked neatly under an ad looking for someone who knew massages “like the back of your hand” and on top of one that shouted “WORK FROM HOME! $1000-5000 PER MONTH.” He remembered thinking, what kind of fool would call that number ? The torn paper in his hand had the ad for the janitor’s position he was applying for, and part of the WORK FROM HOME ad. I might be that kind of fool if I don’t get this job, Jack thought. He stuffed the piece of paper in his jeans pocket as the office door closed behind him.
A fat, sweaty bald man looked up from his desk. He had a book in his shaky hands and his reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose. Jack made out part of the book title: …House of Usher.
“Yeah?” Bill Frisk drawled. The room smelled of sweat and cigar smoke. Fat Man smokes Swisher Sweets, Jack noted.
“I saw an ad in the paper for a janitor’s position and I think I’m your man.” He had rehearsed this and it had sounded good at home in front of the bathroom mirror. Now it just sounded rehearsed and Jack’s voiced cracked when he said “man.”
Mr. Frisk got excited. “Oh. Yes! We certainly are. Glad you came by! Have a seat, have a seat.” He motioned to a chair in front of the desk with a wave of his hand.
Jack sat and extended his hand. “Jack Bronson. I’ve worked as a janitor for Thomson’s Middle School for two years and right now I’m between jobs.”
There was an ashtray full of cigar butts and a pack of Swisher Sweets lying on the desk. Bill Frisk leaned forward and shook his hand. Jack noticed with disgust that Bill’s hand was clammy and wet with sweat. Gross. This guy’s a pig.
“We are certainly looking for someone, no doubt.” Bill fidgeted nervously with some papers scattered in front of him, his eyes darting back and forth. “Can’t seem to hold on to ’em…” His voice trailed off.
Jack smelled whiskey. Maybe I’ve come at a bad time, he thought but didn’t say. He needed this job badly and wasn’t about to leave just because this guy acted like he was going to have a nervous breakdown right in front of him. Just give me the job first before you off yourself, he thought.
“Well, I can keep the building clean and maintained if you like. No problem there. I used to be a plumber, actually. I worked in Carson City for five years before—”
“I see, I see.” Bill interrupted. Then he looked Jack in the eye, “Have you ever had any trouble with people?” His placid face was pale. He looked desperate.
“No, not at all.”
“Then the job is yours. You’ll be in charge of Apartment Building E, the last one down at the end of the lot behind the big willow tree. There are forty units, ten each floor; you’ll get ten dollars an hour. Here’s the keys. The maintenance room is around the back.” Then he added, “Good luck.”
Jack got the feeling Bill Frisk wanted him to leave. The feeling was mutual and Jack left.
Riverside Acres Apartments had been built in a middle class neighborhood and began with one building built and owned by A.R. Wallace. He was a descendent of the famous Alfred Russell Wallace, collaborator of Charles Darwin and the theory of natural selection. Wallace had developed his ideas the same time as Darwin and they published a joint paper before Darwin’s Origin of Species went to print. It was speculated that Wallace was selected out of evolutionary history because of his distasteful involvement in the occult. There were rumors he even experimented on hybrid plants with psychedelic effects.
Jack drove into the apartment complex and took note of the beautiful maple and apple blossom trees that adorned the landscape. Apartment buildings A and B
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