1 post tagged “writing”

Who is Platypus?
Platypus is my neighbor.
He likes to drink a martini glass of vodka and water with a floating strawberry on the side.
He enjoys to listen to the new born music style of palitroche.
He seems to read a lot and is overall a quiet little critter.
He is also in the memory bancs of the international security department.
A certified pedophile cannot be let loose into society and be expected to mend his ways…

    Down the stairs and up again.  Down the stairs and up again.  Down the stairs and up again.  This was the ritual the platypus followed all after noon.  Down the stairs and up again.  Down the stairs and up again.  He did not stop to say “hello”, he did not stop to say “good bye”,  he did not even blink when a piano fell from the seventh floor and landed on his little garden of petunias.  He just ignored what was happening in his surroundings and continued with his ritual.  Down the stairs and up again…
This continued for days to come.  When I left the building to go to school I had to make way for him in the stairs.  When I came back from school I had to cram myself in to the stair case full of people who were trying not get to close to platypus.  Not out of respect or courtesy, but out of fear for their safety; for it seemed that platypus would not stop for anything and he would do anything not to detain his unceasing struggle to go down the stairs and up again…  
On the sixth day of his extravagant feat he only performed his persistent act until 3: 78 PM and then went on to his apartment and slammed the door into the faces of the inquisitive neighbors; who had seen him so relentlessly go down the stairs and up again, and were now wondering what he was up to.  
After the abrupt halt in the continuous rite, platypus did not come out of his apartment for three days straight.  And while he sealed in his apartment mouths explained platypus’ strange behavior with even stranger tales…  
“He was looking for a microscopic button that fell from the pocket in his vest”
“He was counting the average number steps taken by people every year”
“He was trying to find out how long it would take for his feet to fall out”
“maybe had a bad case of insomnia and paced to tire him self to sleep”
“ I heard he was smuggling borrowers in to the building!”
“ he was looking for a place to hide the charred remains of his murdered wife and that is the truth”
But of course, the were all truths; they always are, no?

    As these rumors spread through the building and even the higher floors became interested in this peculiar mystery, I tried talk to platypus to find out what had brought on the change in his usual self.  Yes he was always quiet, but he had never ignored a friendly hello, and he had never alienated himself from the tenants.   He did not answer my calls he did not reply to my e-mails, he did not even link with me to have private chat, he went as far as to deny me entrance in to his cyber chatting chamber, which seemed to be working on the over load these days.