Chapter Four

Four seventeen and thirty six seven eight seconds, my key slides into the lock and makes the usual gunshot racket as it permits me entry to my home, this hovel that I have eaten, slept and fucked in for three months today. I say a cheerful 'hullo' to the pot plant, but it doesn't reply. I think it's sulking - I've not watered it for seven hours. It's being punished for dropping leaves all over my matte grey carpet, but I realise now that the punishment may be a little redundant - there are more shrivelled leaves on the floor now than before, so many that one could be forgiven for thinking that the carpet is brown. But it's matte grey.
The answer machine is giving me the evil eye as I fill up the jug. I don't know why - it can't be jealous. It wouldn't like to be watered, no matter what it thinks.

So, i end the thirst pact in the hope of keeping my floor clean and decide to find out why the machine is looking at me like that. It gives a few angry tones, then breaks into a not unreasonable imitation of my mother. Its impression has a metallic edge to it which I've never noticed before, but aside from that, the likeness is uncanny. The sound starts to grate on my head and the words start to fly around the room. They're bouncing off the walls and the furniture, nothing is safe and the plant looks none too happy about this assault. I pull the plug from the wall and gaze at the shards of words and meanings littering my home.