Wednesday night.
By: Kristian Rasmussen
Tags: Anger, Misanthrope, Party, Lesbian, Short Story

Thanks for involving me in your escapades you fucking freaks!



Carl Wheeler, 56, author and essayist, yelled towards his entrance door in the living room, as a party of 5–6 drunk people walked up the stairs Wednesday night 11.28 p.m. They were so loud, that he felt that his head was going to explode.



Must you be talking so damn loud each time? Have some consideration! Show some discretion! Be civilized!

But it didn’t help. His neighbors — a lesbian couple in their mid-fifties and their guests — were giggling, like children from primary school, on their way up the stairs. And when they finally reached their apartment, it took them ages to open the door. And when they finally managed to open the door, they slammed it so hard, that his fine, Danish porcelain figures on his desk were shaking. Almost as if they were about to fall and crash on the floor like eggs.



Fucking faggots! Fucking subhumans!



He sat down and continued with the program he was watching. A documentary about the hedonist gay painter Francis Bacon.

Some 10 minutes after, the music from upstairs began.



“Relax” with Frankie Goes to Hollywood.



It’s a fucking Wednesday! Must you party every fucking day of the week? He yelled towards the roof.



Nobody could hear him. The music was too loud. And they turned the volume up to the maximum as the next song “I’m still standing” by Elton John, began. They were singing so loud and stomping so hard in the floor, that he couldn’t even hear the music. Only their ecstatic voices and laughter.



Next song was Erasure “Give a little respect”. Their voices even louder now: “….. give a little respeeeeeect, toooooooo meeeeee….”. Then onto Gloria Gaynor, Culture Club, Pet Shop Boys, Village People…..and……



He couldn’t handle it. He had to react.



But first he took his blood pressure. 158/112. Hypertension. Not good. Then he served himself a large V.S.O.P brandy, probably 8 cl, to relax a little. But it didn’t help. His heart was beating faster and faster. He felt like he was going to pass out. Things turned blurry. He found himself in a strange haze.

Then suddenly the music upstairs stopped.



But they were yelling. Loud!



Something was going on. Something had happened.



Call an ambulance! Call an ambulance. Now!



He could hear one of his neighbors — the fat one — screaming hysterically.



What happened? The other one asked.



He pulled a chair out from his dining table and put it in the middle of the floor then stood on it, so he could hear what they were saying.



Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God…..She isn’t breathing, a voice said.



She’s got no pulse, another voice said.



Call that fucking ambulance!



I called them. They are on their way.

Shortly after the ambulance arrived. Some rescuers came up the stairs and maybe 5 minutes after, the most terrifying screams from several voices could be heard in the entire building.



His blood froze to ice. It sounded like a choir of insanity.



What the Hell is going on up there? He mumbled to himself.



Then everything turned silent. There was nothing to be heard. No screaming. No talking. No walking. No nothing. He went to his window to see if there was an ambulance parked in front of the building, but there was nothing to see, besides of the pizza delivery that was ringing a bell. Probably the pale mute from the first floor who ordered.

Fucking freaks, he thought to himself.