Cube Sleuth (2014)
“I don’t worry about hydroplaning into the back of an eighteen-wheeler. Instead, I worry that I’ll get home, open my front door, and get crushed by a tidal wave of beige water.
In my mind, the wave carries the lighter objects in my apartment like they were kelp. Daggers from my knife block stab me in the eyes. My cry of agony is cut short when the pole lamp beside my futon impales me. Water runs under the doors of my neighbors, who look in the hall and see my body posed like the statue of a Chri...stian martyr.
Nothing dramatic happens when I open my apartment door, but the problem tile in my bedroom already looks eight-and-a-half months pregnant with a dirty-rain baby. At the vertex of this smelly parabola, a tiny drip falls from a jagged crack in the tile like an iced tea IV drip.
I follow my usual protocol: angle the bed away from the drip, strip the bed, call my landlord to leave a death threat, make up my futon.
Sleeping on my U-shaped futon isn’t too much of an inconvenience. Having to run under the dripping Sword of Damocles whenever I need to get into the bathroom (the drip is, of course, in a perfectly unavoidable spot) doesn’t even bother me that much.MoreLess
In my mind, the wave carries the lighter objects in my apartment like they were kelp. Daggers from my knife block stab me in the eyes. My cry of agony is cut short when the pole lamp beside my futon impales me. Water runs under the doors of my neighbors, who look in the hall and see my body posed like the statue of a Chri...stian martyr.
Nothing dramatic happens when I open my apartment door, but the problem tile in my bedroom already looks eight-and-a-half months pregnant with a dirty-rain baby. At the vertex of this smelly parabola, a tiny drip falls from a jagged crack in the tile like an iced tea IV drip.
I follow my usual protocol: angle the bed away from the drip, strip the bed, call my landlord to leave a death threat, make up my futon.
Sleeping on my U-shaped futon isn’t too much of an inconvenience. Having to run under the dripping Sword of Damocles whenever I need to get into the bathroom (the drip is, of course, in a perfectly unavoidable spot) doesn’t even bother me that much.MoreLess
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