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Once I’d paid and exited the cab, I
raced inside as if the hounds of hell snapped at my heels. I dropped the bag on
my sofa and retreated into a corner of the living room. From there I glared at
it. What was I supposed to do with a speaking gargoyle?
Sure, it wasn’t the strangest thing
that had happened in my life. It didn’t even top the list of strange things
that had happened this month, but it sure qualified as one in a long line of
issues for which my future therapist would charge double.
The zipper moved and the gargoyle
peeked its head out. His gray fedora hat perched on a grotesque, yet oddly
adorable face, and pointy ears projected through its wide brim. “Good, we’re
alone. Now, where’s the john?”
I pointed to the hall. “Second door
on the left.”
“Thanks, kid. ’ppreciated.” He
hopped out of the bag and dropped from the sofa onto the ground with a loud bang. He waddled off, his coat dragging
along the floor. In a previous life, it might have been a children’s raincoat,
but it had since been shortened to about half-length.
I took a deep breath. Yuck. The air
smelled staler than the bread I’d probably left in my fridge. I opened the
windows and inhaled again. Better. In the kitchen, I filled the coffee machine
with water and enough coffee grounds to make my hair even curlier. I wanted it
strong enough to burn its way through the mug, strong enough to jolt me out of
this bizarre dream.
Three minutes later, the gargoyle
returned.
Flapping his wings, he lifted
himself onto the table and sat, crossing his stumpy legs in front. “How ya
doing there, kid?”
I opened my mouth, blew out the
beginning of a consonant, and closed it again. If I began a conversation with
him, I’d be admitting to myself he was real.
I recalled a famous thought
experiment about a falling tree in the woods. If I talked to a gargoyle and
nobody heard it, would I still be crazy?
“I’m good. Who are you?”
“Kirk.” The gargoyle slapped his
chest then his waist, extracted a phone and finally a packet of cigarettes and
a lighter from his pocket.
“Don’t even think of lighting up in
here.” I raised a warning finger.
“Kid, I’m gonna give you so much
info, you’ll wanna marry me. But you ain’t my wife yet, so don’t start
nagging.”
After rummaging through the recycle
bin, I picked up an empty green bean can and placed it in front of the
gargoyle. “Use this.”
“Neat. Now, where’s the hooch?”
Kirk pivoted his heavy stone neck and spied a bottle of bourbon I kept for
emergencies. He pointed with a stubby, claw-like hand. “Don’t be stingy.”
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