If I thought too hard about that phone call I'd freak the fuck out. Surprisingly, I haven't freaked out yet. I guess the rapid succession of moments where I have no clue what the fuck is going on had happened too quickly for me to think twice. So I continued the trend, looked at Ripley, and realized I still need to get her out of here.
I dialed Tab's number.
She picked up. Her tone of voice relayed that she had been up for a while.
"I hope you're calling to apologize, Chadam," she said.
"Apologize? For what?" I asked.
"That fuckin THUMPING and screechy shit you got goin on up there. Building a god damn time machine?" Though her untalented use of sarcasm was displayed nicely, it didn't occur to me that while all this shit that's been happening to me, it was only a little after 7am, and I highly doubt that a lot of the tenants were waking up to go to work. Sorry, tenants. It wasn't really my fault.
"Sorry, Tab", I say, humbly, "there was…a rat and, I was trying to chase it, and my…chair…fell?" Damn, I pride myself on telling stories and that was best I could do?
Ripley boisterously spoke in the background, "AND PIGEONS!"
I turned to Ripley and put my index finger over my mouth, the universal sign for 'shut-the-fuck-up-can't-you-tell-I'm-trying-to-lie'.
"You calling bout a RAT? Really?" she asked.
"No, I'm calling to ask you a favor. Ripley's here and Sandy was supposed to be back by now to get her, but she's not, and I have to go to work. Can she come hang out with you for a few?"
I was beyond going to work by now, but I highly doubt Tab (or anyone) would believe me if i told the truth and said "well..I have a possibly life-threatening box embedded in my carpet that who-knows what delivered and I'm afraid that maybe the angelic kamikaze zombirds that destroyed my window will eat Ripley if she stays here."
That's the shitty thing about real life, and how it carries over into the movies, and FROM the movies. Movies have engraved in our brains that NOTHING fantastical ever happens in the real world, so if someone says something out of the ordinary, they are told they are crazy, and the truth never gets told. And when this happens in films, you always yell at the screen something like "Just tell the fucking truth, God, this is so fucking fake."
But then it happens in real life, and…you bottle it up.
So, I didn't tell the truth, out of fear of being ridiculed.
"Sandy's HERE, Chadam, let me put her on the phone."
"Hey Chadam," said Sandy.
"How long have you been back?" I asked, obviously frustrated.
"I haven't even left yet, man," I started talking to Tab about some shit and I'm about to go right now."
Jesus, I thought. Well, at least I know that the whole apartment isn't infested with zombies or boxes of death or whatever.
"Don't," I say, "Can I send Ripley down there, I really need to go to work, Sandy."
"Yah, sure, tell her to come STRAIGHT down here, I need to go too."
"K. Thank you."
I hung up the phone and grabbed Ripley's hand.
"C'mon, let's go downstairs."
The instant we walked out of my door, I uncontrollably hunched over. My shoulders tensed and my eyes shut like bear traps. A stabbing feeling sharper than any headache I had ever had overtook me instantly, and I crippled in pain.
I took a step backward through the threshold of my apartment, and the pain ceased.
"Hold on a minute, Ripley."
I tried to catch my breath and stand up straight.
"What's wrong, Chadam?"
"I just got a headache, I'll be ok, let's go"
Again. The attempt at crossing out into the hallway was stopped by the instant headache.
Shit.
And again, I backed up. The moment I got back inside, the pain stopped.
"It's ok, Chadam, I'll go myself, its just right downstairs."
"I'm sorry, Ripley, I'm not feeling good. Go STRAIGHT downstairs. Promise?"
"Promise," she said.
I shut the door, a little reluctantly. I hated leaving Ripley alone, but she's lived here longer than I have, and the danger is only in HERE, I hope…