Read Online Dial M for Monkey by Adam Maxwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Adam Maxwell
lane.
WHOOSH
It’s windier here but as long as they stay in lane I’m safe.
WHOOSH
Unless someone is overtaking in which case they’ll hit me and
WHOOSH
I’ll get some sleep but I
WHOOSH
Really want to beat them
WHOOSHWHOOSH
The bastards in No. 49
WHOOSHWHOOSH
And then I realise what I have to do.
I tried to buy a gun yesterday. They wouldn’t let me so I bought a deactivated pistol from an old bloke in a junk shop. It’s heavy and looks the part. I don’t think I want to kill them, just teach them a lesson.
I’ve just seen her go out so I know that this is my moment. There’s a dull pounding of bass through the wall, music thumping from somewhere in their house. It’s the perfect cover so I slip out of my back door and carefully make my way round to his.
It’s louder here as I try the handle and to my surprise it turns; the door is unlocked. There’s music seeping down from upstairs, just beginning to fade out as I gently squeeze the door shut behind me.
Suddenly, I’m having doubts. I shouldn’t be doing this. Should I? I’m about to turn around and leave when I hear it, the insistent pitter-patter of the high-hat. He’s playing it again.
I know it by heart, I can’t walk out, I can feel myself falling over the edge.
Tip tipitip tipitipitipitip.
My hand tightens around the pistol.
Tip tipitip tipitipitipitip.
I know this is the right thing to do and my blood seethes through my veins as he starts to sing…
We’re caught by a tramp…
Little does he know that this will be the final rendition of a song that has plagued me for weeks.
Thank-ya… thank-ya very much…
It’s time. I take my first tentative step out of the utility room and into the kitchen. It’s a mess in here, I can hardly believe that people could live like this.
It’s nice to see…
The melamine on the units is peeling, the bin is overflowing with take-away cartons and empty lager cans. I choke back a gagging reflex as the smell hits me and bolt into the hallway.
So many of you out tonight.
His voice is becoming clearer as I make my way down the threadbare carpet in the hall.
I gotta thank you for coming to the show.
And why should I believe him? All I’ve ever had is lies, threats and broken promises. Well, no more. I cross the landing toward the source of the din and stand for a split second outside the door.
Uh-huh huh.
We just cannot go on like this now can we baby?
And I begin. I can’t face another line and for once I agree with Mr No. 49. We can’t go on together.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ I say as I swing open the door and level the pistol at him. He stops singing but the music is so loud I can feel the bass pounding with my heart in my chest as it continues unperturbed.
He gazes for a moment, first at the gun, then gradually towards me and as he does so the frown that had splintered into life on his forehead begins to dissipate.
He begins to grin and starts advancing on me.
‘So,’ he says with a sneer. ‘Decided to teach me a lesson then?’
I cock the hammer on the pistol and, to my amazement, he stops. His expression remains the same but a hollowness has entered behind his eyes and I know he’s not quite sure whether or not I’m serious.
‘I’ve asked you so many times,’ I begin, my voice trembling. ‘Just to consider my feelings.’
He stares at me in disbelief and my hand begins to shake, my palms cold with sweat making the gun feel like it could fall at any point. I know I must act fast.
‘But every time all you do is play this fucking song. Louder.’
This time I begin advancing, my legs shaking I drag them across the room, waving the gun in front of me.
‘You see,’ I was shouting now, tiny droplets of spit shooting from my mouth as I spat the words at him. ‘It’s very simple.’
I laugh and as I do the tears that have been running down my face trickle salty into my mouth.
‘You must stop.’
I press the barrel of the pistol to his temple, a surge
WHOOSH
It’s windier here but as long as they stay in lane I’m safe.
WHOOSH
Unless someone is overtaking in which case they’ll hit me and
WHOOSH
I’ll get some sleep but I
WHOOSH
Really want to beat them
WHOOSHWHOOSH
The bastards in No. 49
WHOOSHWHOOSH
And then I realise what I have to do.
I tried to buy a gun yesterday. They wouldn’t let me so I bought a deactivated pistol from an old bloke in a junk shop. It’s heavy and looks the part. I don’t think I want to kill them, just teach them a lesson.
I’ve just seen her go out so I know that this is my moment. There’s a dull pounding of bass through the wall, music thumping from somewhere in their house. It’s the perfect cover so I slip out of my back door and carefully make my way round to his.
It’s louder here as I try the handle and to my surprise it turns; the door is unlocked. There’s music seeping down from upstairs, just beginning to fade out as I gently squeeze the door shut behind me.
Suddenly, I’m having doubts. I shouldn’t be doing this. Should I? I’m about to turn around and leave when I hear it, the insistent pitter-patter of the high-hat. He’s playing it again.
I know it by heart, I can’t walk out, I can feel myself falling over the edge.
Tip tipitip tipitipitipitip.
My hand tightens around the pistol.
Tip tipitip tipitipitipitip.
I know this is the right thing to do and my blood seethes through my veins as he starts to sing…
We’re caught by a tramp…
Little does he know that this will be the final rendition of a song that has plagued me for weeks.
Thank-ya… thank-ya very much…
It’s time. I take my first tentative step out of the utility room and into the kitchen. It’s a mess in here, I can hardly believe that people could live like this.
It’s nice to see…
The melamine on the units is peeling, the bin is overflowing with take-away cartons and empty lager cans. I choke back a gagging reflex as the smell hits me and bolt into the hallway.
So many of you out tonight.
His voice is becoming clearer as I make my way down the threadbare carpet in the hall.
I gotta thank you for coming to the show.
And why should I believe him? All I’ve ever had is lies, threats and broken promises. Well, no more. I cross the landing toward the source of the din and stand for a split second outside the door.
Uh-huh huh.
We just cannot go on like this now can we baby?
And I begin. I can’t face another line and for once I agree with Mr No. 49. We can’t go on together.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ I say as I swing open the door and level the pistol at him. He stops singing but the music is so loud I can feel the bass pounding with my heart in my chest as it continues unperturbed.
He gazes for a moment, first at the gun, then gradually towards me and as he does so the frown that had splintered into life on his forehead begins to dissipate.
He begins to grin and starts advancing on me.
‘So,’ he says with a sneer. ‘Decided to teach me a lesson then?’
I cock the hammer on the pistol and, to my amazement, he stops. His expression remains the same but a hollowness has entered behind his eyes and I know he’s not quite sure whether or not I’m serious.
‘I’ve asked you so many times,’ I begin, my voice trembling. ‘Just to consider my feelings.’
He stares at me in disbelief and my hand begins to shake, my palms cold with sweat making the gun feel like it could fall at any point. I know I must act fast.
‘But every time all you do is play this fucking song. Louder.’
This time I begin advancing, my legs shaking I drag them across the room, waving the gun in front of me.
‘You see,’ I was shouting now, tiny droplets of spit shooting from my mouth as I spat the words at him. ‘It’s very simple.’
I laugh and as I do the tears that have been running down my face trickle salty into my mouth.
‘You must stop.’
I press the barrel of the pistol to his temple, a surge
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