CHOOSE YOUR OWN MINDFUCK: A Night in Eighth Block Tower (A56)
Bedlam Bible fans! Explore the Eighth Block Tower! Choose your fate! New posts every Tuesday and Friday. September '23 through December '23. Don't succumb to the huummmmmmmmm...
You’ve decided on saying ‘maybe later’…
“Maybe a little later,” you say. “Right now, I’m too hungry to think straight. Know of a decent place around here where I can grab a bite to eat?”
She grimaces, then says, “I’m not from this part of town, but even if I was, I don’t think I’d eat at any of the restaurants in Eighth Block. No offense. I just prefer, you know, non-toxic foodstuffs. Besides, at this hour, you’d be hard pressed to find a decent place to eat anywhere in the city.”
“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, thinking of the sushi joint you walked past on the way to the bus station. “I’d kill for a California roll right now.”
This makes her laugh out loud. “Seriously? If you eat at a sushi joint in Eighth Block, I’m pretty sure you’ll die. If I were you, I’d avoid it at all costs.” Then suddenly her eyes widen as if she’s just seen a ghost. “Oh, you know what? You’re in luck! I just remembered something. I know exactly where you can get food at this hour. And good food, too. I actually had some earlier myself. But…”
“But what? It’s buried under layers of radioactive dust? Sourced from an unknown species?”
“No, nothing like that,” she says. “It’s just… well, a little fucked up. You see, earlier, when I was working, I heard this awful sound ring out from somewhere down the hall. As I went to check it out, I saw a family of three—a mother, father, adult daughter—dragging a headless corpse out of their apartment, down through the middle of the hallway. Through all the panic and shouting at one another, I deduced that the headless corpse belonged to the mother’s sister, and that she had just committed suicide. Blew her head right off.”
“Holy shit,” you say, wondering what the hell this story has to do with you being hungry. “Why were they dragging her through the hallway?”
“Because cops and paramedics… they don’t come out here to Eighth Block. The closest they’ll come is the Winkies about two blocks away. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s where they ended up taking her.”
The two of you stare at each other in silence for a few seconds. Finally, you speak up. “Did you tell me that so I wouldn’t be hungry anymore? Cause it didn’t work. I’m starving.”
“Oh right, sorry… I lost my train of thought. What I was getting at was that the family must have been celebrating or something, cause when I walked by their apartment sometime later, the front door was wide open and their dining room table was in full view, topped with more food than I’ve ever seen in one place in all my life. I’m telling you, it was a feast! I’m not ashamed to say I walked right in there and ate like a queen. Turkey, ham, potatoes, gravy, stuffing—it’s all there… and more! There’s a bit of everything. I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll like.”
“That sounds amazing,” you say. You’re salivating just thinking about it. “So, where is it?”
“It’s right here in the tower! Hold on, I’ll write the apartment number down so you don’t forget it,” she says, then digs into her pocket for a napkin and an ink pen.
“You always carry a pen in your pocket?” you ask.
“Only when I’m working,” she says. “Smart ass.”
You laugh. She scribbles something on the napkin then hands it to you.
“Speaking of,” she says, raising her hand to wave goodbye. “I’ve got to get back to it. I’ve been at it all night. I’m ready to go home, shower, and settle down for a few hours. Good luck with the meal. Maybe I’ll see you around?”
You shake your head. “Probably not. After I check this place out, I’m headed out the front door and never looking back.”
“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” she says, dragging the trash bags down the stairwell. “I don’t think any of the residents here ever planned on staying, but… well, here there are.”
“I’m not like them. I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe not yet,” she says. “I hope you will be. Have a nice life, Super Shit Face. Nice knowing you.”
You laugh and nod, holding up the napkin she just handed you. “Same to you, and thanks for this. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Shows how little you know,” she says, then disappears from sight.
You look down at the napkin, anxious to finally be stuffing your face with food, but there’s a small problem: her handwriting is so sloppy that you’re unable to read the apartment number. Her 5 is completely rounded off and looks more like an ‘S,’ so when turned a certain way, the apartment number reads as either 511 or 115.
— To go to apartment 511, click here.
— To go to apartment 115, click here. (coming soon)