The Collection

ago.

After all, it was his apartment, registered in his name. If any damage occurred, he'd be the one liable for it.

But he'd been a nice guy. He'd left Ira his privacy, had 1 not ventured into the territory beyond the closed door of f Ira's room. He'd even let the fat cow slide on the rent for two months after he'd lost his job. And how had the bastard J repaid him? He'd skipped out, owing Ray nearly a thousand dollars in bills and back rent, leaving behind this putrid pigsty to be cleaned up.

Ray walked over to Ira's bathroom and shut the door, almost gagging on the smell. He had to get this place cleaned up and find another roommate within the next two weeks or he'd be out of an apartment. Rent was due on the first of the month, and there was no way he'd be able to make the pay­ment alone.

But he was going to lay down the law for his next room­mate.

And charge a hefty security deposit.

He took another look around the filthy bedroom and went into the kitchen to get a garbage sack, the broom, the mop, the vacuum cleaner.

The Lysol.

ROOMMATE WANTED

W/M, 28, non-smkr, Ikngfor rmmte

 to shrxpenses. 555-5715.

Ray came home from work, threw his tie on the couch, and walked immediately across the living room to check his answering machine.

Nothing.

He sat down on the couch. He was starting to get worried.

The ad had been running in the paper for three days and he hadn't gotten a bite. Not even a nibble. Yesterday he'd stopped off at the university after work and put up a notice on the housing bulletin board, figuring that since it was near the beginning of the semester he'd be able to find a re­spectable, trustworthy college student to room with him. But no one had called from the college, either.

He could feel himself starting to panic. After the Ira dis­aster, he'd sat down and written out a long list of ground rules: 'The Law,' as he called it. It was his intention to read The Law to all prospective roommates and to get their signed-agreement in case he needed it as proof should he ever have to take them to court. But for the past two days he'd found himself mentally striking items from the list, ad­justing his rules, rationalizing the dropping of standards and requirements.

He sorted through the mail in his hand. There was an en­velope addressed to Ira, and he opened it without hesitation. He had no idea where the pigman was or how to get ahold of him, but he probably wouldn't have forwarded the mail even if he had known. Inside the envelope was an overdue notice from Ira's bank, warning that if his car payment was not received his vehicle would be repossessed.

Ray smiled as he tossed the envelope into the trash. He hoped they'd nail that bastard's ass.

He turned on the TV and was about to start dinner— macaroni and cheese—when the phone rang. He rushed across the room and picked up the receiver before the ma­chine answered it. 'Hello?'

'Hello. I'm calling about the apartment?' It was a woman's voice, tentative and hesitant, sounding as though she was not quite sure what to expect.

Ray tried to keep his voice light, to sound as unthreatening as possible, knowing that the woman might not be entirely comfortable with the prospect of sharing an apartment f with a strange man. 'The room's still available.'

'Room?'

'Well, room and bathroom. You'd have the master bed­room even though the rent would be split evenly.'

She was silent.

'If you're worried about rooming with a man—'

'No, it's not that,' she assured him.

'Well, would you like to come over and look at the place?'

'Sure. Will you be there tonight? About eight?'

'That'd be fine,' Ray said. He did some quick mental calculations. If he skipped dinner, he would just have enough time to vacuum, dump the garbage, and straighten up the living room. He could grab some McDonald's after she left.

'Okay,' she said. 'I'll see you then.'

'What's your name?'

'Lilly.'

'Okay, Lilly. I'll see you at eight.'

The doorbell rang at seven fifty-five, and Ray ran a hand through his hair and tucked in the back of his shirt before opening the door. 'Hello,' he said, smiling.

The smile froze on his face.

On the phone, Lilly's voice had been low, sensuous, se­ductive. In person, she was a thin, emaciated wraith, all elbow angles and pointy facial features. The plain white suit she wore accentuated the angular boniness of her frame, and both her light blue eyes and thin-lipped mouth were hard.

She carried in her hands a small, particularly unpleasant-looking monkey, a brown hairy beast with too many teeth.

'I should have told you over the phone that I was look­ing for a place for me and my baby,' she said.

Baby? Ray frowned. Was that an affectionate term for her pet or ... ?

'Baby?' he said aloud.

She lifted the monkey. 'My daughter.' Her voice, which until now had been comparatively soft, was now as cold and hard as her appearance.

'I'm sorry—' Ray began, starting to close the door.

But the woman ignored him, walking into the dining room. 'I suppose we could set the altar here,' she said.

'Altar?'

'For my baby. The faithful will need a place to worship

her.'

'Look ...,' Ray said.

She stared at him. 'You don't know who this is?' The ugly monkey grimaced at Ray. 'She is the Christ child, the Second Coming. She was born to me a virgin and—'

'I'm sorry,' Ray said quickly. 'You'll have to go.' He pressured her toward the door.

The monkey chattered angrily.

'You'll be damned to hell,' the woman said, and there was nothing soft about her voice now. 'You're like all the rest of them, and you will burn forever in the fiery pit, your skin will melt and your bones—'

'Get out of here now!'

'My baby damns you for eternity!' Lilly was screaming as she backed out the doorway. 'Your teeth will crack open and your cock will rot and—'

He slammed the door.

She was still screaming her curses as, with trembling hands, he locked the door and retreated back into the apart­ment.

The answering machine broke the next day, and though he could tell that a message had been left, Ray had no way of hearing what it was. The recording mechanism had gone out on him and would play back only garbled static. On the off chance that it was someone who was interested in look­ing at the apartment, he washed and put away the breakfast dishes and threw away the newspaper that was spread out over the dining room table.

He was just straightening the magazines on the living room coffee table when there was a knock at the door. He ran a quick hand through his hair, rubbed a finger across his teeth, cleared his throat, and opened the door.

The man who stood there could not have been more than three feet high. He was wearing only a dark green bathing suit and his hairless skin was albino white. He was com­pletely bald, and even his eyebrows had been shaved off. 'Mr. Feldman?' he asked in a high squeaky voice.

Ray nodded, and the man stepped inside, looking around the apartment. 'TV!' he squealed and ran quickly