I heard someone knocking like crazy on the door once, but I was half asleep from a full night of failing to locate that damned sound in the walls, so I’d buried my head under the pillow and ignored whomever it was. “Come on,” she poked me in the ribs playfully. “Let’s see, we got the big old weirdo, the demented old crone, the blond surfer guy with a seemingly endless supply of identical white hoodies, oh and let’s not forget the creepy middle aged twins.” “Maybe we should talk to the neighbors?” Dasha suggested, peering out the kitchen window. And don’t even get me started on the neighbors. Lights flickering, drafty spots all over, strange noises in the walls, and then the leak in the basement yesterday to top it all off. Sure, it was relatively cheap, and who doesn’t love a big old mortgage, but there had been nothing but problems with it since we moved in. We’d only had the house for a little over a week, but I was already regretting buying it. “But I’ll admit, it’s pretty damn weird.” “I think you mean brain science,” she giggled. “This shouldn’t be fucking rocket surgery.” He replied with a douchy smirk, and handed me a bill that had me reconsidering my chosen career. I sighed, and thanked him for his service to my basement, which is to say I told him he was useless. “Hey man, if there’s no pipe or hole or anything I can enter.” he winked suggestively, then shrugged. “So there’s nothing you can do?” I asked. I just shook my head, and snickered half-heartedly. They’re right up there with people who use whilst instead of while, and people who chew with their mouth open. “Maybe you got a corpse or something up there?” he chuckled nervously. I’d gone over every inch of the place, read through all the blueprints, even drilled a hole at the base of the roof. The weird thing was that there weren’t any pipes anywhere near the wall in question. I’m not even sure why I called the plumber in the first place. “The color checks out, and it has roughly the same texture, wouldn’t you say?” “I don’t know, man,” he stroked his chin nonchalantly. He seemed like the kind of guy that would think this sort of stuff was funny. “You’re kidding right?” I stared at him in disbelief. Hey plumber Steve, we’ve got a real bad case of the old blood dripping down the walls here, mind taking a look? My wife had jokingly referred to it as blood, so that’s the first thing I told the plumber.
“Sure as hell looks like blood to me,” he said, staring at the rusty red discharge dripping down the wall. “So what do you make of it?” I asked the plumber.
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