The Happy House (3)
“Fuck!” wailed the Devil in Black as he slammed through the front door of the Parlour. Tears had grouped in his eyes on his way home and the fury and frustration was building since being told the dreadful news. “Fucking hell!” He pushed Sammy out of the way into a door as he stormed down the hallway, sweeping a vase stuffed with flowers to the floor in a great crash. Finding an old painting on the wall, he smacked it with his fist and tore it down, breaking and snapping and pummelling. “Fuck!” “Sir!” yelled Sammy, hoping to come to the rescue of a priceless painting, “Get a hold of yourself!” “Fuck you!” Black swung his fist at his butler, taking the old man to the floor with a giant thud. Unrelenting, he stepped over the fallen and stormed into the living room to collapse into the sofa. He banged his fists on the coffee table. “Fuck!” Pushing his splayed fingers through his black hair that was completely messed in the confusion, he tried to breathe as best he could, but it was pointless. “Why her?” he sniffed with a guttering voice. “Why the fuck did it have to be her?” He fell onto his side, sobbing wildly, his hands over his face. He felt like he wanted to punch his best friend’s face in. Given the chance, he would have done. Why had the Pathetic Pussycat gone for Fest and not him? Was it just because he knew where she lived? Had Black sat on the wrong side of her at the birthday gathering? Had he not been funny enough? Amusing enough? Interesting enough? Exciting enough? And Fest bloody well had? “Fuck you Fest. Fuck you. Why did it have to be her?” The Devil in Black, seemingly relaxed in his posture yet not so, was swamped by a horde of cuddly pillows and cushions on one of the Ruffled Fox’s many couches. It was another night at the Happy House and another whisky sat comfortably in his hand. Everyone was having fun bar him as they wiggled their bits this way and that around the large room, gorging themselves on each other, many of which Black knew nothing of. They were little more than a yellow and green haze, a mist that engulfed the room as soon as someone opened the window, drifting in from the outside and converging on this one rumpus spot. Fest collapsed onto the available seat next to him. This was something that neither of them wanted to happen, firstly for Black’s obvious personal reasons that Fest knew nothing of and for the slight embarrassment caused when a man reveals his emotional side for a significant other to a friend, as Fest had done earlier for the Pathetic Pussycat, and secondly for the fact that Fest only sat down next to the party-pooper so as to get him on his feet to enjoy himself. It was not something that anyone wanted to do, especially to try and convince the old-man-since-birth Black that it was his time to boogie-woogie, but after a nudge from the Pathetic Pussycat who’d been looking on with those glaring eyes of hers, staring right at the back of Black’s head, Fest the Pest was only too happy to oblige. “So what’s wrong?” He felt like he wanted to punch his best friend’s face in. “Oh nothing, nothing,” Black lied, grappling his fingers with scrunched up eyes. “Tired that’s all…not much sleep last night…” He took a deep swig of his drink to finish it off as Fest abandoned the seat to the lonely trenchcoated individual. Black got up out of his seat, trying to inform everyone in the room with his movement that he needed to refill his glass. With one eye he glanced over at the Pathetic Pussycat who stood in the thick of the throng smiling and twinkling her eyes up at the tall Fest who’d quickly returned to her side. Black half-drunkenly sneered and went to fetch the whisky. The Ruffled Fox lunged at Black feebly, carrying two glasses full of punch with either hand. If he could have done, he would have pointed a stubby finger at the sad man’s chest and was so drunk he tried to accomplish the task with his nose. Failing that, he spoke up giddily, wanting to tumble backwards. “Why aren’t huoo having fun at my party dear boy?” A hiccup. “Everyone elsh ish.” Worse than any other thing, Black hated expectations – he hated people expecting him to do things. Expecting him to be happy, to be grateful, to be caring. Why should he be happy? Or grateful or caring? Hell, all people cared about was a smiling face. “I’m just leaving.” And Black was gone from the Ruffled Fox’s sight as quickly as he had entered it. But Black didn’t leave straight away. He meant to. He wanted to. But he didn’t. There was still something, or rather, someone, in the back of his mind that needed to be found…for curiosity’s sake. And there she sat at the foot of the staircase in the hallway, in his eye beautiful and perfect: the Purple Poppy. Black smiled and she smiled back. He perched himself next to her on the step and noticed the redness around her eyes, the hints of tears. “What are you doing out here all alone?” There was a pause as she sniffed and wiped her nose, trying to hold back another flooding. “Don’t worry about me. I’m alright.” “No, come on…what’s up?” They didn’t really know each other but Black, even though his dress sense might have made him appear otherwise, was a considerate person. It came through in his voice and his glinting singular eye. “Well it’s Serious, the guy I’m with. He’s had a bit too much to drink, you know? I think Cad’s trying to calm him down.” “You two not getting on then?” “No it’s not that, it just that…sometimes he can be, well…sometimes he doesn’t think about me.” “A tad inconsiderate…” “Yeah. Look, I don’t really want to talk about it. Let’s talk about something else, eh? Something better.” “Sure.” A brief pause. “What would you like to talk about?” Black smiled as if he’d just won an argument and stared at his shoes. Their arms brushed against each other slightly and Black hopped to his feet, quicker than he wanted to as if the intimacy had frightened him. Perhaps it had. “How about a drink?” All thoughts about leaving were gone. He decided it best to wait it out – there seemed to be more than the Pathetic Pussycat in this world. “Please.” “What would you like?” “Gin and tonic please.” “Righto. Gin and tonic coming up.” If was then as if the fast beats of the music from the large room grew louder with the base pummelling the floor, like a man with iron boots tap-dancing upon a table as fast as his knee joints would allow. With that was a screaming stroboscope as the doors to the Happy House swung open picture by picture, letting in, yet going unnoticed, the cool night air that dared to impose on the invitation-only party. From the darkness, in tall top hats best befitting their tomfoolery and atrocious cunning, leapt the Tasteful Tern and his fellow comrade who always stood by his side, in wide trousers and white gloves, the Chubby Chinwag. They attacked the hallway with their canes, mischievously kicking the air with their perfectly laced shoes before bombarding the party in the main room. “Mr. Black,” said the Tasteful Tern as if he had expected the one-eyed man to be standing there. Tern took Chinwag’s top hat and took off his own and shoved them at the Devil in Black. “Find a place for them.” “Up your arse.” Chinwag smiled, leapt and thrust his cane down upon Black’s face, catching his lip violently, cutting the skin to let a dribble of crimson roll down the once indestructible man’s chin. Black was surprised as anyone might have been. “Now, now, stop fighting you two.” Tern put himself in the way and stared at Black, blaming him entirely. “We’ve only just arrived after all.” Tern was a tall, thin man with curly dark blonde hair, his face a juggernaut of smile and enclosed hatred. “Now Chinwag, let us adjourn ourselves into the other room and procure ourselves a drink.” “Gladly,” said Chinwag flatly, staring with his beady eyes above rosy cheeks at Black, intent on furthering some revenge. Black stood in the hallway for a moment or two, dabbing two fingers at his lip to prove to himself over and over that he was bleeding. He couldn’t quite believe it. Poppy, who’d seen it all from the stairs, came from behind with a wet cloth straight from the kitchen. Black moved himself away, thinking it not right at all, but upon insistence, she dabbed the soaking rag against his lip. It burned Black inside that he was unsure as to whether she was doing this out of mere kindness or something more. After all, it was only a small cut. Black was a desperate man and he needed to know, but her eyes, a crystal blue and so well humoured and living, they gave nothing away but a compassion to help. “Thank you.” “You should keep out of their way. You know they’re no good.” “I don’t like to be made anyone’s fool. Especially by those two.” “Don’t worry about it. Now run along and get those drinks.” Black turned and Poppy patted him slightly on the backside to get him moving as she returned to the kitchen. As he continued through the other doorway into the main room, he wondered whether that slight touch meant anything to her or not. With a rush, the Serious Sausage burst past with his hand over his mouth, followed by the Cackling Cad who’d purposefully got the soldier this drunk. After all, there was a Poppy to pick. Seeing a swarm of bodies around the drinks cabinet, Black sat down on a nearby couch so that he could wait his turn. “So what’s your take on them then?” To Black’s bitter surprise, he had inadvertently sat down next to the Gabbling Gurn, the ‘supposed’ friend of everyone, that chatted about this and that, loved dramatic works and the theatre and had a bathplug of a face – no one could understand why he was a ‘friend’ or how he had actually come to be in this position of the person that could be talked to, he just was and would probably remain so. Black looked ahead and realised that the sparkling new pair of the Pathetic Pussycat and Fest the Pest were in view and that Gurn’s question concerned them. He stared for a few moments and the feelings of loss and hopelessness clutched his heart again. As best he could, Black twisted away and without eagerness turned his attention back to Gurn. “What did you say?” “I asked what you thought of them, Pussycat and Fest, the new couple.” “I say good on them.” Another lie. “Can’t see how you could look at it otherwise.” Now he was punching himself in the face. “It was a bit sudden though wasn’t it? How long do you think that can last? A week? Two weeks? A month? Can’t see it lasting longer.” “You think it’s all a show do you? You don’t think there’s anything beneath it all?” The pace of Black’s heart was picking up but there was still a large cloud of doubt rearing its face in the back of his mind. How the hell would Gurn know anything about it? “Well look at them.” In unison they both turned their heads and stared at the pair for a few moments longer. “Look at them smiling…squinting…sexing up what isn’t. They’re two desperate people in need of a good romp – they’ve nothing in common, there’s no reason why it should last.” “Always the bringer of happy news Gurn, always.” “Well this is the Happy House after all. I could hardly falter.” “Yeah well, take care.” Black got up and left the gabbler to his thoughts. The drinks cabinet was now free and the trenchcoat made a beeline for it. There was only one thing that could calm his woes: whisky. Upon his first attempt at pouring a glass, it was snatched away by Fest who’d arrived at Black’s breathing space uninvited. He hated him more now – now that Gurn thought the sparkling relationship a big hoax. Hell, Black’s love wasn’t. “Sorry but I haven’t had a chance to say thank you Black.” “Watch out, Pussycat’s arm’s getting cold. Hadn’t you return to it?” He said this more bitingly than he had intended – no one should know how he felt about it all. No one would care either way. “Heh, yeah, I’ve been ignoring everyone tonight I’m afraid.” “What did you want to say thank you for?” “What? Oh yes, about the party…” “The party?” “Yeah, the party.” “What about the party?” “For getting us together…for inviting her along also. I don’t know how you knew I had a crush on her but you saw straight through me. Awfully good of you to help fan the flames, I owe you.” Black stood open-mouthed for a moment. “Well, you can start by giving me my drink back.” “Oh sorry.” Fest did as he was told and now Black had two glasses primed, one with whisky and one with gin and tonic. “Now run along. No need to thank me. Have fun.” Black moved away, heading straight for the hallway. God, what had he done? Once again he had the urge to punch Fest’s face in… how dare he steal her away. Fuck the Gurn’s idea of a quick ending to this – this was going to be long and drawn out. Upon reaching the hallway, the Purple Poppy had disappeared and Black was left on his own, standing idly as he usually did, holding a glass in either hand without anyone to chat to. She must have gone, he thought, taking up her place on the stair with a sigh. Everything was back to normal then – of course there was no chance of them hitting it off, oh no, that would be completely fucking wrong wouldn’t it? God wouldn’t like that, the bastard. Helped steal away Pussycat and now Poppy like he couldn’t give a damn. With enforced vigour, he brought his glass of whisky up to his mouth and downed the large pool of golden elixir in one. He placed the other glass on the seat next to him and it was quickly scooped up by the Purple Poppy who’d been making her way down the stairs carefully. “Oh there you are,” said Black, quite surprised. God hadn’t abandoned him after all. “Yes, there I am.” She took a large swig of her drink and closed her eyes, feeling it warm her up quickly. “Serious is throwing up upstairs in the bathroom. Dare to think how much he’s had. Cad’s with him. I wanted to get an early night in as well.” “Oh? I’m just leaving. You can get a cab with me if you like.” “What about Serious?” “I’ll talk to Ruffled, see if I can get him to stay the night. Shouldn’t be a problem.” “Thanks.” As Black stood up, a soft, small hand flowed through his fingers and for a moment the tips stuck to each other – a sort of beautiful connection was fused together momentarily. Moving back into the still-swinging room, the host was on the floor near the centre clutching a large bottle of champagne, the right leg of the Voluptuous Vixen and the left of the Frivolous Fuck, both dancing together almost erotically, but it was the two guys in one corner of the room that Frivolous had her eyes on. The Vixen meanwhile was too drunk to know what was going on and it didn’t help that her dopey nature usually clouded her brain up most of the time anyway. “Swine! Scoundrel! Rogue!” yelled Ruffled from the floor at Black as he approached. “Shut up for a moment will you? Make sure the Serious Sausage gets a bed tonight alright? He’s not feeling too good to travel.”
Copyright © 2005 Jack M Brown |