This is part 10 of Todd’s story.

—
Come along follow me as I lead through the darkness
As I provide just enough spark that we need to proceed
Carry on, give me hope, give me strength
Come with me and I won’t steer you wrong
Put your faith and your trust as I guide us through the fog
To the light at the end of the tunnel
We gonna fight, we gonna charge, we gonna stomp, we gonna march
Through the swamp, we gonna mosh through the marsh
Take us right through the doors (c’mon)
– Eminem, “Mosh”
—
Todd put his foot on the first step, and a train’s horn went off somewhere in the distance. He looked up the stairway, and it seemed to elongate. He took a puff from the cigar to steel himself. Step after step, he pulled himself up to the second floor. That the house felt like a home to him was no longer comforting. Instead, it added to the strangeness that filled the air. He remembered someone accidentally calling him Ralph once, but he couldn’t place it. The sounds from his friends kept him sane as he stepped onto the second floor landing.

It looked like there were two bedrooms and a bathroom on this floor. Come to think of it, Todd hadn’t noticed a bathroom on the first floor. The doors were all open, so they could see that the guest room and bedroom were both sparsely furnished, painted in pale colors, and decorated with seemingly random photographs. They all let go of their held breath at once, and then exploded into a fit of giggles as the tension broke. They all filed into the master bedroom. There was a desk with a blotter and an expensive-looking pen. The thin drapes let in almost all of the morning light from outside. Thunk sat heavily on the bed while Sheila let her fingers trail across the photos.

Todd sat at the writing desk, and looked more closely at the blotter. “Man, this feels like serious detective shit. Check this out. There’s an outline, like a darker shape, in the middle. Like when you take a poster off your wall, and the paint hasn’t faded there yet.” He traced the edge of the darker shape with his thumb.

“Maybe a diary or journal or something?” Thunk was stealing glances at the windows, like he expected someone to show up. “I mean, if he only wrote in that, and did it every day, why would he move it?”

Todd nodded. “But then, why is it gone now? Where did it go? Who moved it?” He leaned back in the roller-chair, and it screeched in protest.

“Good question, Watson. But a better question would be: What was in the journal that would make it so important that someone would enter the house and either move it or steal it, after good old Ralph passed from this world?” Thunk took a couple of puffs from the cigar, obviously thinking. Todd and Sheila just gaped at him. After a few moments, he noticed and blushed furiously. “What? You guys know I love Sherlock Holmes stories. This totally feels like one.” He shrugged, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.

“That was really fucking smart, Thunk. That IS a better question.” Todd shook his head; he was getting tired again.

“These pictures are amazing. They’re all old silver prints, like in the old west days. Right out of 3rd hour history! You guys should see this! They’re all carnies.” Todd sat up, and Thunk crawled across the bed. Sheila took one down from the wall, and brought it to them. It was of a young woman. She had a cigar clamped between her teeth, and her fists were on her hips. Her wild brown hair made her look a little wolfish. “Isn’t she intense? Check this guy out!” She took the woman back, and handed them one of a fairly large man. He had long hair, tied back, and the angular goatee that was the style at the time. He wore a long, black duster, and was on the portly side. In his hand was a metal spider.

Todd took a step back. There were metal plates on the man’s duster. He had seen the man yesterday, across the street from the house. The man had stared him in the eyes. Sheila flipped the picture over. “Hey, it’s stamped with the year. Eighteen seventy-three.” Todd searched the carnies on teh wall frantically, his legs nearly turning to Jell-o. There he was. The brother to the one who had stared at him. Neither of them had aged a day.

“Todd, you OK?” Thunk and Sheila were looking at him in concern.

“I… I don’t feel so good. I need to hit the bathroom.” He rushed out of the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He turned the cold water spigot on all the way, and splashed his face over and over again. Cult carnival obsession, right. Just something that old people did. He splashed the water on his face again. He would not pass out. He would not. Splash with the cold water again.

He heard the floorboards outside the door creak right before there was a knock. “Hey, man, somebody’s at the front door, knocking pretty loud.” Thunk. He turned the water off and towel-dried his face. He opened the door, and faced his concerned best friend. “You ok?” Todd nodded and headed down the stairs.

“Probably a Jehova’s Witness.” Todd looked in the peep-hole and his heart skipped a beat. The man’s name floated up in his mind, and Todd remembered the nightmare from last night.

Dr. Celestine was standing on his front porch, and he did NOT look happy.
—
Threw you the obvious
And you flew with it on your back
A name in your recollection
Down among a million, say:
Difficult enough to feel a little bit
Disappointed, passed over.
When I’ve looked right through,
To see you naked and oblivious
and you don’t see me.
– A Perfect Circle, “3 Libras”

This is part 9 of Todd’s story.

—
Now I will tell you what I’ve done for you
50 thousand tears I’ve cried
Screaming Deceiving and Bleeding for you
And you still won’t hear me
– Evanescence, “Going Under”
—
Todd sat on the porch of Ralph’s house, swinging slowly back and forth in the old porch swing. A lit cigar was clamped between his teeth. The remnant of his earlier smoke was finally down to a reasonable length. The nicotene and triple latte from Starbucks were all that were keeping him alert. He had not slept well. In fact, he hadn’t caught a wink since he’d woken up in last night’s thunderstorm.

He had tried to get back to sleep. He’d even been able to drift off a few times, but the instant he began to dream, the scent of oranges sent him into a panic, and he flew awake. The real shit of it was that he couldn’t remember a bit of the nightmare that had spooked him so badly. The only thing that kept coming back was the smell of fresh oranges, like at that lawyer’s office. Todd took the cigar out from between his teeth and took a gulp of the coffee. The taste made him wince, but it was doing a good job of keeping him awake.

Sheila’s hybrid car buzzed around the corner at the end of the street, and flew toward Ralph’s drivway. She expertly handled it into the driveway and to a stop mere inches behind Todd’s beater. Both doors opened, and the car spat out Sheila, looking dog-tired, and a struggling Thunk. “God damned small cars. I need a fuckin’ shoehorn!” Sheila giggled and Todd grinned. They both knew he did that sort of shit for the attention. Once Thunk was fully upright, they both headed up to Todd. Sheila wrinkled her nose at the cigar.

“You look like I feel, sugar-bear.” She took Ralph’s hat off of her head and smushed it onto his. “Didn’t sleep well?” Todd shook his head. “Me neither. I kept having these bad dreams. I think I kept getting eaten by dragons, but it’s hard to remember.” She grabbed Todd’s coffee and took a drink. He was too tired to protest.

Thunk was looking at Todd’s cigar with envy. Todd grinned, clamped it between his teeth, and took a couple of puffs. “So, who’s up for the grand tour of my humble home?” Sheila rolled her eyes, and Thunk held out his hand to help Todd up. Todd accepted, and showed them inside. They all looked the closet up and down, staring at the myriad of hats, coats, canes, walking sticks, and shoes. “Not exactly a spoon collection.” They all giggled. Sheila winked at Todd, and they went into the living room. “I got a bit of a head start. There were piles of magazines stacked all over the place in here. I started looking though them, and, well, check it out.” He picked one up from the pile on the couch, and flipped in a few pages. He handed it to Thunk. He took another one, at random, and handed it to Sheila. She flipped through, then stopped.

“So what?” Thunk shrugged his big shoulders. “It’s an ad for a weekend carnival. I mean, it’s a cool old magazine and all, but why is this circled? In red, even?”

“Hey, mine’s circled in red, too. Advertisement for a Carnival of the Mysterious. Ooooo, spooky!” Sheila closed the magazine and tossed it at Todd. He handed her another. She flipped through the pages. “what the… it’s almost the same ad. So, your uncle was tracking some cult carnival? What’s the big deal?”

Todd grinned. “That’s totally what I thought. But the magazines go back for almost a hundred years, and every ad is nearly the same. I checked, to keep from falling asleep. Hold on.” Todd disappeared into the library, and came out with a cigar, a clipper, and a zippo. Thunk grinned as he handed all of these over. The end was cut, the cigar was lit, and the Thunk was pacified. “Anyway, I was able to do a little more checking before you got here. Check out the article clippings on the walls.” Todd puffed on his own cigar as they examined the wall decorations. Every single one of them was about someone missing or dead, and a mysterious carnival was under suspicion. The dates were sporadic, but ranged from the mid-1800’s to the present.

Sheila shook her head. “So, your Great Uncle Ralh had a pet conspiracy theory about carnivals.”

“Small hands. Smell like cabbage,” Thunk said in a bad English accent.

Sheila shot him a glare. “That explains the huge organ. But… I don’t get it. Old people do stuff like that. Spoons, you know.” She shivered. “How come it’s so creepy? I mean, it is. Creepy.” She took another drink of Todd’s coffee. Todd hadn’t even realized that she’d never given it back.

“Yeah, it’s wierd. That’s why I was on the porch. I kinda freaked.” He sighed and adjusted the hat. “Oh, there’s one more thing that I found.” He went into the kitchen, and they followed. He showed them the lack of food, appliances, and marks of use.

“Meals on Wheels?” Thunk seemed to be grasping at anything he could think of.

“No,” Todd said. “Just another reason to be creeped out. What if old Ralph didn’t eat?” He shivered and something rang true from his dream, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “So, what should we explore next? All that’s left down here is the library, and there’s just tons of books, cigarettes, and cigars in there. That leaves the basement and upstairs.”

Sheila and Thunk chimed in in unison. “Upstairs.”
—
Hi kids! Do you like violence? (Yeah yeah yeah!)
Wanna see me stick Nine Inch Nails through each one of my eyelids? (Uh-huh!)
Wanna copy me and do exactly like I did? (Yeah yeah!)
Try ‘cid and get fucked up worse that my life is? (Huh?)
My brain’s dead weight, I’m tryin to get my head straight
but I can’t figure out which Spice Girl I want to impregnate (Ummmm..)
– Eminem, “My Name Is”

This is part 8 of Todd’s story.

—
I will devour you
Take all the pain away
I cannot stay my hand
From reaching out so that I can
Empower you
For all eternity
It seems to ease my mind
To know that you’ve brought
Meaning to my life
– Disturbed, “Devour”
—
Todd stands in the orange grove once more. The trees and fruit nearly glow with the sunlight that hits them, but the rest of the world is gray and drab. He wheels around, and all of the trees pulse with the light of life, the light of the sun. He tilts his head back, and the clouds of the hurricane swirl madly above him.

Florida. Florida is where oranges come from. Florida is being rocked by hurricane after hurricane. Todd knows that the hurricane seeks to devour him and forever close out the light of the sun.

Ahead of him, the beautiful rows of orange trees begin to sink into the mud. Rain begins to fall in earnest, and many of the trees tip over, sinking even faster. The mud reaches up, seeking to dull and drown the heartbeat of sunlight that makes the trees what they are. Lightning crashes somewhere. The wind whistles around him, and he can hear screams, laughing, and shouting. It feels as if the earth is trying to pull itself apart. Lightning crashes again, and the lake of mud begins to bubble. Things begin to rise from the mud, covered in it. But the rain is cleansing. The rain washes the mud free of its spawn. In the pool of mud sit tents, wagons, and shambling people. An arch, wooden and old, rises directly in front of him. Once more, the mud is washed free, and the sign becomes legible. Last, but certainly not least, ferris wheels and roller coasters pull themselves free of the mud. Finally, Todd allows his eyes to drift back to the text of the sign, and the carved face.

“Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls.”

A voice, rich with command, authority, and a bit of madness, assaults Todd from behind him. “And who else? We’ve been looking for you for some time, Ralph.” Todd slowly turns around, and recognizes one of the freaks from the Oldsmobile. His top hat seems impossibly tall and intimidating. He has a walking stick that is topped by a writhing, hissing, metal dragon. The fires of hell shine in his eyes.

Which, for a moment, flutter wide in shock. Lightning crashes, and Dr. Celestine’s expression becomes enraged. “You have stepped into a pile of shit that is deeper than your beleaguered imaginings, son. You have no right and no place to assume Ralph’s role in this. Your trickery will soon come to an end. This, I assure you.”

Todd pats Uncle Ralph’s hat, making sure that it is still on his head. He says words in Ralph’s old voice, words that he doesn’t understand. “I am your undoing. I am your antithesis. You provided me a way to come into being, and your carnival causes me to continue. I will end you, or I won’t. Do not mistake me for one who wants to take your place.” Todd plucks an orange from a nearby tree. He tears a piece of peel away, and bites into sunlight made whole.

Dr. Celestine scowls. “This will not do.” He holds his walking stick high into the air. Swooping down low and fast, a dragon made of night grasps the stick and pulls Dr. Celestine up and back into the storm.

Todd turns slowly back to the Carnival’s entrance. Drifting faintly through the rain is the haunting melody of the calliope. He takes his time finishing the orange. It tastes very good.

When the orange was done, Todd could only feel the rain on his face. He blinked his eyes a few times, slowly realizing that he was in bed. A few more drops of water hit his face as thunder crashed outside. Fall thunderstorm. He’d left the basement window open. Cursing, he shut it, and went upstairs to find a towel.

This entry is not the first in the Todd series. The back entries have been copied from to here, and can be seen either by going back in this journal, or in their entirety by going to .

—
I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God’s got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing
– Depeche Mode, “Blasphemous Rumors”
—
The waitress slowly unloaded her heavy burden. “Who had the smothered cheese fries with bacon? Thunk? Here you go. I’ll get our extra side of ranch in a second. Let’s see. Grilled chicken salad. That’s you, right Sheila? And last, but certainly not least, is the Grand Slam, eggs over easy and white toast. There you are, Todd.” Thunk’s older sister smiled down at them. “Need a refill on those cokes?” Everyone nodded. “Be right back.” They liked to eat at the Denny’s outside the mall after Sheila’s shift ended. You could hang out for hours without getting bitched out. It was right outside Sheila’s work, and Thunk’s older sister always made sure that the drinks never showed up on the bill. Of course, they teased Thunk incessantly about it.

Todd started slathering his toast with strawberry jelly. Sheila was picking at her salad while Thunk was wolfing down his heart-attack-in-a-platter. Sheila mercilessly stabbed through a piece of onion, lettuce, and into a crouton. “How much do you think your uncle’s place is worth, Todd?” Todd looked over at Sheila, toast almost in his mouth. He took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully.

“I dunno. I don’t even know how much a house usually goes for. I guess I’d have to get an inspector or something. And there’s so much stuff, you guys. I mean, you could probably spend months just going through it all.”

“So what?” Sheila carefully dipped her salad in the little bowl of low-fat dressing. “Tons of boring old man junk. Probably better off in the trash.” She crunched through her greens.

“No way!” Thunk actually put his fork down. Todd and Sheila just stared. “No way, man. All that stuff, all that junk… Todd’s uncle kept it for a reason, right? I mean, why would some old fogie keep stuff unless it had some kind of, uh, emotional connection? Reminded him of something, or whatever.” Thunk looked from Todd to Sheila, then went bright red under their stares. “Like my Grandma’s spoon collection.” He squirmed for a few seconds before his friends burst into a gale of giggles.

Sheila imitated an old woman’s voice and started clawing at Thunk. “Not my spoooons! Please, Thunk, take anything else, but leave me my spoooooooons!” Thunk tried to roll his eyes, but ended up chuckling along. “Thunk, you have the weirdest family ever.”

“I heard that.” Thunk’s older sister sat the pop refills on the table while everyone did their best to look innocent. The waitress wagged a finger at them, then rushed to greet some recently-seated customers. They ate for a while in silence, but their dreams of what the house might hold were written all over their faces.

Todd pushed his hash browns slowly across the plate. Then a piece of egg. If things had been normal, Thunk would have already asked him if he was gonna finish that. He stole a glance at Sheila, and he could have sworn that there were dollar signs in her eyes. He looked sideways at Thunk, who was trying to balance a spoon on his nose. All Todd could think about was the calliope. “You workin’ tomorrow?” Sheila shook her head. “Plans?” Thunk shook his as well, sending the spoon flying. “I say we meet up at Ralph’s house at one, tomorrow. I say we search the thing top to bottom, maybe figure out what old Ralph was all about.” They both nodded agreement.

Sheila grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a three-alarm kiss. When she let him go, she smiled dreamily at him. She grabbed Ralph’s old hat and placed it gently on her own head. “Mine.” He had to admit, it looked better on her. Nobody noticed the cooks blaring Disturbed from the kitchen. Nobody saw the Oldsmobile pull in to the Denny’s parking lot.
—
Looking at my own reflection
When suddenly it changes
Violently it changes
Oh no, There is no turning back now
You’ve woken up the demon … in me!
– Disturbed, “Down With the Sickness”

—
Come one, come all, and witness magic!
I introduce to you an occult sorcerer
Of the ancient craft of Necromancy
A caster of mind-bending illusions
From the nether void of the shadow walkers
A soul from Shangra La, The Great Milenko!
– Insane Clown Posse, “Great Milenko”
—
Todd turned off his clunker and yanked the parking brake into place. He reeked of cigar smoke, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He got out of the car, pocketed his keys, and slammed the door shut. Todd liked to park as far from the mall’s entrance as he could without looking like he worked there. No easy task for a teenager with an ancient car, but he tried anyway. Too many fender benders up front with soccer-mom SUV drivers, and too many break-ins near the road that circled the mall complex. He shoved his hands in his hoodie’s pocket and began the trek to the mall’s entrance.

Saturdays were always crowded, and Todd had to practically shoulder his way through the entrance. He got plenty of dirty looks from over-40 cows, but he figured it was easy to shrug that shit off when you’re not part of their herd. Maybe he shouldn’t have smirked, because two seconds later a rent-a-pig put a hand on his shoulder. “Hold it right there, chief. Mind tellin’ me where you’re headed?”

Todd whipped around, suddenly full of rage. “Get your hand off me, chief, or your security company’s gonna get sued into oblivion.” He had an incredible urge to swing at the overweight and pimply 30-something goon, but held it back. “I’m going to visit my girlfriend. She works here. And if you leave me the fuck alone, I might spend money here.” The security guard took his hand off of Todd’s shoulder and tried to give him a stern look.

“Empty your pockets.” The guard’s hand strayed to his billy-club. “I think you’re shoplifting.”

“Right. I’m going to steal something, go outside, and come back in, after I just got away with it. Eat shit and die.” Todd turned his back on the security guard and walked away. After eight or ten steps, the rage drained out of him, and he couldn’t believe that he’d just gotten away with that. Maybe he should stop by the guard station and complain. Better yet, he should get his mom to do it. Those fat pig-wanna-be’s would never hear the end of it. Todd shelved the idea for later. Shelia was why he was here. Sheila and Thunk. He needed a dose of normal, and no one was better suited to provide it than those two. He made a left at the center of the mall, and headed down to the Hot Topic. Shelia worked part-time there, and it was one of the only places left in the mall that didn’t call security if you wanted to hang out for a while before you bought something.

Todd waved to Sheila as he walked between the fake cast-iron gates that stood at each side of the entrance of this goth-kid’s store. Thunk was there, too, and they both waved back. Todd gave the merchandise a cursory glance on his way to the checkout desk. He got up real close, leaned over the desk, and drooled out, “How much for zeh weeeeemen?” Thunk tried to squelch his laughter, but Sheila burst into giggles.

“Unfortunately, uh, sir, our weemen aren’t for sale, but could I perhaps interest you in some titanium nipple rings? They’re quite the rage this season.” Now Todd burst into laughter, and Thunk could contain himself no longer. A couple of shoppers – parents of a subculture they didn’t understand, no doubt – gave them all dirty looks, but everyone else just smiled and continued their browsing. “You stink. Did you find ancient piles of old man’s dirty laundry or something?”

“Nah, just some cigars.” Thunk smiled hugely and Sheila rolled her eyes. “There’s a bunch of other cool stuff, but I really haven’t had any time to explore yet.” Todd fidgeted as Sheila looked him up and down. She shook her head and went to change the CD in the store’s player. Thunk watched her go, eyes glued to her ass.

“Man, you are one lucky S.O.B.” Todd smirked, a bit nervously. “So, you hear what you missed at school yet?” Todd relaxed as Thunk filled him in on the gossip and bullshit assignments that he’d missed. Sheila slipped a Depeche Mode CD into the player and jabbed the play button.
—
Take second best
Put me to the test
Things on your chest
You need to confess
I will deliver
You know I’m a forgiver

Reach out and touch faith
Reach out and touch faith
– Depeche Mode, “Personal Jesus”

Todd pulled a few puffs of the cigar smoke into his mouth. It stung a little, but it was a full, rich flavor. The hat and the stogie definitely made him feel older, and a little more like he had a right to be here. The kitchen was empty. There were no dishes, glasses, stored food – perishable or not – anywhere. The fridge was there, but empty. Toaster, microwave, oven, all super-clean, like they’d never been used. No pots or pans, either. How wierd was that?

Feeling spooked, Todd headed back to the living room. He stared at the dominating piece of furniture. The calliope’s tallest pipes had needed part of the ceiling to be removed, just to fit. There was an air pump in a nearby closet that powered the monstrous instrument. He clamped the cigar in his teeth and pulled the bench out. This was greedy sacriledge, but Todd could not stop himself. He sat down and sat his cigar on the built-in ash tray. He gently ran his fingers over the once-white keys, remembering the first time he had touched Sheila.

There was no sheet music that Todd could see, though he could never really remember old Ralph using music. It had always seemed to pour out of him, and the keys had moved as if they’d just been waiting. Todd picked up the cigar, and drew a few more puffs from it. He could definitely spend a couple of hours here. He turned on the bench, surveying the living room. Framed pictures everywhere, old magazines stacked on endtables between garish sofas and chairs, framed news clippings, from all different eras, and no television.

That was one thing Todd would have to change before he moved in, if only for his gaming consoles. Who knows, maybe there was one upstairs. Todd glanced down at his watch. The mall where Shelia worked was a half-hour drive away, and it was already three. He took a couple more puffs from the cigar and carefully put it out in the calliope’s ash tray. Good god, he wished he could move in right away. Two years would be an eternity to wait. He took his car keys out of his hoodie’s pocket and looped the house’s keys onto the ring. He stepped out onto the porch, making sure that the door was shut and locked. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie’s pocket and headed down the walk to his car.

About halfway there, he stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth hung open as he stared at a car parked along the other side of the street. It was a boat, for sure. A giant, off-white, Oldsmobile land-barge. There was surprisingly little rust on it. In front of the car stood two large men, both with brown goatees and brown hair. They could have been brothers. One was wearing a trench coat that was covered in metal plates, and was staring straight at him. The other looked like some sort of game show host. He had a top hat, a long coat that flared out at the bottom, and some kind of shiny shirt. He was gesturing wildly at the street, and was all smiles. It looked like he was trying to convince the other guy of something.

Todd shook his head to clear it. There were plenty of freaks everywhere, there was no reason that these two should have taken him by surprise like that. He walked the rest of the way to his car, and got in. Mostly to convince himself that he wasn’t afraid, he spent a minute or two choosing which CD to listen to.

ICP made the cut and drowned out Todd’s shaken confidence. It worked so well that he didn’t even see the Olds pull out and start following him.
—
Boys and girls, it’s nighty night time
Happy J the Clown has a nursery rhyme!
It’s about The Boogie Woogie Man
Keep your light on as long as you can
Cuz when it cuts off, so does your head
Boogie Woogie Woogie waits under your bed
With a shank, splah!, up through the bottom
Little Jimmy Jimmy, uh, got ’em.
-Insane Clown Posse, “Boogie Woogie Wu”

—
I don’t need to walk around in circles

When the ghostly dust of violence traces everything
And when the gas runs out just wreck it, you insured the thing

But I can’t sigh now that you made the move
It has gone and gone to dogs, lay down on the floor
For the right price I can get everything
Slip into the car, go driving to the farthest star
-Soul Coughing, “Circles”
—
Todd turned off the car and pulled hard on the parking break. Its series of clicks was reassuring as Uncle Ralph’s house loomed in front of him. There was little grass on the postage-stamp lot, but the hedges reached nearly to the roof of the house’s first story. There was one tree in the front yard, and it had already dropped most of its leaves for the fall. The house itself was two stories tall, with a full-height attic and an unfinished basement. Its roof had a steep slant, and Todd guessed that it would be pretty hard not to fall if you were standing up there.

Todd strolled up the walk, trying to look at least half as intimidated as he felt. Something felt missing here, as if the house itself had a chunk missing. Uncle Ralph, of course. He managed to get the key into the lock on the second try, and slowly swung the front door open. Familiar smells washed over him, and he smiled. He’d never realized how comfortable he’d felt at this house until now, when it was too late to thank Uncle Ralph. Todd opened the front closet and slipped off his shoes. His eyes drifted over the odd assortment of jackets, coats, umbrellas, and shoes that stuffed the small space. Why had Ralph needed all of these, or were they holdovers from when he’d been younger? He looked at the hats sitting on the upper shelf, and pulled down a courderoy taxi driver’s hat. He couldn’t ever remember Ralph wearing even half of this stuff.

Todd put the hat on, and decided to explore the main floor first. As his foot landed in its first step on the creaky hardwood floor, his cell phone rang its shrill, demanding ring. He dug it out of the leg pocket of his jeans and answered with a dull, “H’lo?”

“Hey sugar-bear, it’s me.” Shelia, his girlfriend. “What’re you up to?” Todd rolled his eyes at the pet name.

“Nothin’. Checkin’ out old Ralph’s place.”

“Your great-uncle?”

“Yeah, he left me his house and all the stuff in it.” Todd felt that queasy feeling as guilt assaulted him. Nothing better than a vulture.

“You’re SHITTING me! He left you a HOUSE?! That’s fucking sweet! Are you gonna move out of your parents’ house?”

“Can’t. House is in some sort of trust fund until I’m eighteen.” He was strolling around the house now. Through the living room and into old Ralph’s den. “I guess I can take or use the stuff in the house, though.” The den was walled in bookshelves, with stand lamps in each corner. In the center of the room was an overstuffed and cracked leather chair, flanked by an end table and a stand ash tray. “You workin’ today?”

“Yeah, three to close. Thunk said he’d come by and visit me today. You should, too!” Todd pulled out the drawer of the end table, discovering a full pack of Nat Shermans and several silvery cigar cases. They were some brand called Helix.

“Sure. Talk to you then.”

“Bye!” It’d be cool to hang out with Shelia and Thunk. He hadn’t really seen anybody since the funeral, and maybe they’d cancel out the weirdness of old Ralph being gone. Todd took out one of the cigar cases and found a cutter and zippo in the drawer. He unscrewed the end of the case, tipped the cigar out, and cut the end into the ash tray. He carefully lit the cigar and pocketed the zippo.

This whole place was starting to feel ancient, so he might as well feel older, too.

—
I’m done being there for others
They have their pain and so do I
Don’t need to feel it all over
I try to hold on and you bring me down

We wait, we hate
We try to get away
Mistake my pain
It has been lead astray
I’m looking around, I drop to the ground
Why does it have to end this way

Feeling numb, so long
Oh God it’s just everything
It’s everything
Now I pray for all of them to go away!

I’m done being there for others
They have their pain and so do I
Don’t need to feel it all over
I try to hold on and you bring me down
– Korn, “I’m Done”
—
Todd sat in his basement room. He was listening to Korn, cranked up to the point that almost hurt his years. Despite the trashing around and headbanging that Korn usually inspired, Todd sat still on his futon matress. He was holding the keys to Uncle Ralph’s house – his house – and just staring at them. It wasn’t a big house, but it had felt like a dusty maze when he’d last been there. Why in the hell would old Uncle Ralph give him something so big, worth so much, hell, with so much responsibility attached?

He closed his fist around the keys, and drew his arm back to throw them across the room. At the last second, he stoped, and made a disgusted face. If he threw them, he’d likely never find them again. Clothes, CD cases, comic books, and video game magazines literally covered the floor. The often-used incense was the only thing keeping the air breatheable down here.

Todd’s parents never came down here any more, anyway. They were big believers in privacy and respecting each other’s space. That made it really easy to hide the beer and the weed. The Korn track ended, filling the world with silence for a moment that lasted forever. He tossed his headpones onto the matress and turned off his sereo. He grabbed his black hoodie sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. He slipped his feet into his laceless Sketchers and grabbed his car keys.

He took the basement stairs two at a time; he would have to be going pretty fast to avoid any of his parents’ attempts at being “involved” – especially so soon after the funeral and reading of the will – as he headed out the door.

Their questions of “Where are you off to?” and “Todd, when are you going to clean your room?” were barely deflected by the door as he raced out of the house. He certainly didn’t hear his father, Richard, say to his mother, Vanessa, “I hate to say it, ‘Ness, but I don’t think he’s ready for such a big responsibility.”

He swung the door shut on his thirteen-year-old rustbucket car, trying to think of a reason not to go to the house. He shoved in the clutch and turned the key, listening to the engine cough to life. The muffler roared and rattled in protest, so he turned up the music to compensate. The bouncy style of Soul Coughing lifted his mood on the way to explore his new house.
—
I don’t mind the worry following me like a dinosaur…
I don’t fear I am descending into the molten core…
So far, I have not found the science,
But the numbers keep on circling me.

The numbers keep on circling me.
– Soul Coughing, “So Far I Have Not Found the Science”
—