whole life up until that time — a waste. I slept and ate 3
and drank according to my own clock. I didn’t shave or 4
bathe hardly at all. I read for escape. If I was a brave man 5
I would have probably killed myself.
6
I was everything that my uncle Brent said that I was, 7
and less. Nothing ever changed and I never got any better 8
or worse.
9
But then I received Anniston Bennet’s boxes, and the 10
world I knew receded like an unfinished novel whose 11
story had become overwrought and tedious.
12
13
14
The truck that came that afternoon was unmarked 15
brown. The burly moving men had a knock that could 16
not be ignored. I came down, expecting the police or 17
maybe the fire department.
18
Both men wore green work pants and strap undershirts.
19
They were white and at least one of them bore tattoos, 20
but I think that they were both marked up with naked 21
women, knives, and hearts.
22
“We’re supposed to put this delivery in the basement,”
23
the blond and balding one said.
24
“Around the side,” I told him.
25
I was in swimming trunks and tennis shoes. We went 26
around the side and down into the cellar. The men hefted 27 S
six long flat boxes, one at a time, laying five of them on 28 R
the floor in the rudimentary pattern of a flower (one flat
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The Man in My Basement
box in the center and each of the other four parallel to 1
one of the sides). The sixth flat box was laid up against the 2
far wall. These boxes were very heavy. I could tell by the 3
way the men strained when carrying them.
4
After that they brought in two dozen boxes of various 5
sizes and weights. Finally they delivered a loose-leaf note-6
book that was vacuum sealed in shiny see-through plastic.
7
Upon handing me the notebook, the balding blond 8
man said, “Well, that’s it.”
