ВИD

It's chilly, raining. And blows through all the cracks, the cornice creaks. It creaks angrily, as it moans in the ears. Something is pounding on the floor, it doesn't stop. He left at the wrong time, completely wrong. I shuffled my foot, now this thing is whistling. I remembered RO-RO on the pier, swaying so gently and singing in the draft. I felt a twinge in my head. I pull off the tourniquet, my arm is slightly numb. It itches after the injection. I'm afraid of blue worms under my skin. They tear as if they are gnawing their way out. It hit the floor harder from below, I jumped up, then looked around like an animal. A puddle spread on the parquet, sweat dripped from my chin, these drops whistled and tapped. I rub my mouth harder, it stings. Doesn't stop flowing. There are ads on TV again. I grimace in disgust, my teeth are gritted, and the migraine is cutting everything. This beast stares from the screen, suppresses a smile. This treacherous bitch groaned, bent over and pulled her paw towards me. She pinched my lip painfully, dammit. More of them appeared, smiling freaks from TV. My body didn’t listen, I shook my jaw like a dummy, but I managed to grab her sticky palm with my teeth. I even tore off her finger, but it melted in my mouth and flowed down to my chin again. How dull and yellow her fangs are... «When cutie Caney makes the seat.. Blinked. ..she wears the smile brushed three ways clean!» And again they are whiter than snow. My palm finds something cold and heavy, and I squeeze it. The shirt is wet, azure, I didn't immediately notice the stain, I wiped the slush from my face. Cold as water, but viscous. There is a woodpecker on my head, I get distracted, he bites, punctually and rapidly. My lip is cracked again, I tore the crust. The hand is all blue, red maggots are rummaging in it. It squishes. It's dripping again, I wiped it off. It's not sweat, it's disgusting raspberry porridge. There's a pool of blood on the floor. I can barely get off the ground, my legs are straw, crunching and bending. I sat down weakly and crawled to the door. As soon as I scrolled through the lock, his requests popped up in my head. To hell with it. They won't get an inch closer to me. I returned to the TV, I need to keep an eye on it. There are knocks at the window, before that there was pounding on the door. The thing slides off my hands and falls with a crash, I pull my legs up. My fingers are shaking, now the sole is clearly slapping. The tread is light, like a swan's. My father's is rougher, heavier. Fortunately or not, someone else is coming, something weightless, creepy. It tapped on the wallpaper like the keys of an accordion. I was already glued to the chair, shaking my shoulders from all the horror. The heat is wild, the kitchen is stuffy, the woman from the drawer continues to gnaw on the stump. It blew from the left, I would turn around, but fear does not allow. The floor shook, I felt like I was on a carousel, I felt sick. Wings are flapping near my ear, a woodpecker has flown off my head. I close my eyes and quickly shake my head, then look to the left. Vinnie. Thank God He squeezes my shoulder painfully, by accident, of course. He's worried, so he's shaking me, I'm sure. I ask indistinctly, he ignores, only loosens his grip. He collects napkins and rubs my chin, it's easier to breathe. The warmth flutters down my back, the maggots have escaped, the box is hissing. I clung to his arms, exhausted. He does not dodge as well as he can, he stands confidently. He strokes my neck, gently. The wind is warming, the sun has come out. The above events are described from the words of Vinnie: The day didn't go well from the morning. I left him, went out to the grocery store, and fortunately took the keys. It happened that Shapiro locked himself in and did not open, I even climbed through the window. I told him ten times not to touch the lock, he seemed to understand. On the spot, one frick almost hit me while driving away from the parking lot. I bought. I was walking to the house, a downpour burst, and I also crashed into the dammit mud. A nasty feeling is scratching inside with a terrible whisper. A comb can't fix this wet nightmare. I look disgusting, finally I ran my sleeve over the sharp one, tore it. Pity for jacket, I stained it with blood, I won't wash it off with anything. I go up to the apartment, cold and soaked. As soon as the cat saw me on the landing, she jumped from the window. I pull the handle, it won't budge. He locked it after all. I cursed him while I was fumbling with the door, spat, went down and threw a couple of pebbles through the window. Last time I tore off the ledge when I was climbing, and it still creaks. I wanted to light a cigarette, took a camel, something fell out of my pocket, with such a ringing.. The keys! Of course, I'm doing great. I opened door anyway, went in. The flat is indescribably cold, it will be better in the Arctic. I call him, run through the rooms, and in the living room.. I picked up my jaw from the floor. This imbecile curled up into three pieces, rested his muzzle against the flickering screen, twisted some fragments in his palms, and chewed his own lip with a stunning crunch. With each wheeze, he raised his hand to forehead and tore off a hair. He's stoned again, sallow thing. I run up, shake him by the shoulders, slap him on the cheeks. His mouth is covered in blood, I'm already sick, he seems to have woken up. He shakes his head, mumbles something, climbs up to hug. He should wash up first, although I'm not in the best shape, let him. Styling is draining from the temple, I have never spat on my appearance, I feel better. He wheezes like a dog, I bring him to himself. There's glass on the floor, my damn vase. This shit was my favorite, but the main thing was that he didn't cut himself. "Stop with this idiot-box, that's what you're already seeing. And with this one too." "..I'll try my best." One thing is done, we don't watch TV at night anymore.