Friday, December 21, 2012

The Apartment (newly revised and recent additions)

The apartment is where he wrote. Inspired by the white walls and yellow stains running down the corner of the walls. He had ripped out the carpet and rolled it up, placing it in the corner of his living room. Now, the apartment, empty, cold hard floor, rusted pipes, boarded up windows. the man was happy.

This man, like many other men who owned apartments, had a name. That name, was Leonardo, and that was what people called him, especially when they were greeting him. It was very normal for people to say, "hello Leonardo, how are you?", and of course he would always reply "I am myself, and how I do not know." At first this would surprise most people but then after about three times, without failure, that response was given. Those people would begin accept him for who he is and how he responds to greetings.

One day after a long day of perfectly tearing apart his apartment, Leonardo realized why he felt the need to destroy his apartment. And then he forgot. But what he had realized was that apartment, sounds like a mixture of "apart" and "fragment". But unfortunately, he then became extremely occupied in hitting plywood with a hammer.


This plywood wouldn't break. Leonardo frowned deeply at it. The wood, splintered and dented but not split. So he frowned at it again, "break, wood, break!" the plywood stood as a whole, immune to his psychic abilities that obviously seem to work on everything except this particular piece of plywood. He then beat at it at different angles, looking for a weakness, looking for a breaking point. The wood showed no pain, but instead the dents gave it the look of an unbreakable fortress that is worn down by years of determination.

Leonardo's aspiring determination to destroy, was challenged by this inanimate object, and he scowled intently at it. After placing the board on the ground in the corner of his living room. He took a nail and held the point against the board. But before striking it with his hammer he kissed the nail and muttered hopefully.


The cracking sound that Leonardo so hoped for was

replaced with three dull thuds. The nail's point had been bent and flattened, and where the nail was pushed into the board bore a small dent that Leonardo had to squint to see.

It's hard to tell whether it was a case of perfectionist, or just a need to destroy. For Leonardo, perfection is in the essence of destruction. Something that can be broken down and shattered into perfection might as well be. So begins this story, it all started when Leonardo wanted to purchase a chainsaw.

"One chainsaw please"

The lady looked at Leonardo, puzzled in her uniform, "Well did you find one you fancied or do you just expect me to know?"

With a nod, "Yes"

"okay then..." She smiled at a passing customer. "Go on now, the store's not going to hurt you."

Leonardo looked openly at the aisles brimmed with power tools and two-by-fours, and promptly left. The door made a ringing sound as he left, much like the one he faintly remembered sounding as he had previously entered. Leonardo thought it to be a rather odd ring.

He then went to the store to buy some biscuits. As he bagged it and started off to leave a stranger who seemed apt to converse approached him.

"Hello good sir, what might your name be?" before Leonardo had time to reply the stranger continued, "M'name is Claire, though most people call me Stuffy, no idear why. What did you say your name was?

"I see you have got yourself some biscuits, now this has been irking me. Does a fine man like yourself have a preference with your biscuits to drink Tea? Or do you consume a glass of milk."

"Why, I drink milk."

"like-wise, though I enjoy a good cup of tea it just doesn't blend as well as milk. I appreciate your time sir but I should be off and hoppin'. Farewell!" Leonardo headed home. Thinking what a strange encounter that definitely was.

Leonardo had a sort of face that people just felt comfortable with. It was acceptable you might say. He once said to the mailman at his previous flat, 'Mailman, I hate my face. When I want it to tell people to go away they do just the opposite, I can only assume my face is disobeying me. I hate it.' That same day Leonardo moved out.

There was a recent infestation of mice in Leonardos apartment, and while the owner pondered over the cheapest and quickest way to rid them of the pests, Leonardo was getting used to the furry little friends. In his apartment there were two little fuzzy home destroyers. He called one of them Chippy, and the other one Cracker. Chippy was white. Cracker was a dark brown.

When Leonardo returned home. He could see their little red eyes gazing at him from under a pile of plywood. He rushed to the kitchen, kicking rubble as he walked, and opened up his biscuits. Taking the first one and breaking it in half, he gave the two halves to the mice. He then took a second one for himself. The three of them ate the dry biscuits biscuits together.

The mice dashed away, making slight scuffling noises as they both tried to squeeze through the same crack in the wall. It never occurred to Leonardo how odd it was to have two mice living together in the same place. He did happen to say to himself, "they really do make a good couple... Of brothers, two lovely mice gentlemen."

A week passed and he saw them on occasion, but they spend most their time in the wall, even when he fed them. The time came then, that three things changed upon this day. One, the apartment owner bought five cats. Two, Leonardo ran out of biscuits. And lastly, upon the dawn of this new day, leonardo found his two mice with seven pink younglings.

It was the crying of these mice that woke him and brought him to find a letter at his door addressing the five new cats. Which brought him back to reality on the noise. The squeaking was in such magnitude that he felt sure there was sum 50 score mice behind his wall all moaning about great pain in their hind quarters. But looking behind he counted only nine. He fed them the last crumbs from his biscuit supply, and then made his way to the store to buy another batch.

Stuffy was at the store, waiting for him. He suspected she had been previously aware of his schedule and knew exactly when he would be back, he suspicions were confirmed:

"Hello again! I knew you would be here, judging on the fact that you come here the same day every week, it was easy for me to be previously aware of your schedule for today."

"Hullo stuffy, I suppose you want to hear about my week?"

"Well that would be grand!"

"Yes I suppose so. Here it is, my two pet mice whom I shared a daily biscuit with have mated with each other and produced 7 more pets for me to look after. I'm quite worried you know, I only have so many pounds for so many biscuits. What do you propose I do?"

"Why buy them cheese of course! Mice love cheese." That particular stereotype never occurred to him and Stuffy's advice proved indisputably true. They said their farewells and went their ways.

When Leonardo returned home and had his biscuits with milk he had bought, he saw to it that the mice had their cheese. Then, he went back to what he had been doing since he bought his flat. He returned to his destruction, as he was almost finished.

When at last the apartment was perfectly destroyed, he fetched his typewriter from a box of his possessions he had, and he began to write.


When Leonardo was a boy he wrote often and many people thought it peculiar. It wasn't that he was a particularly fantastic writer. In fact he started out with the simplest things and showed anyone who could read what he had written. It was on one cold afternoon that Leonardo was really inspired. He sat on a bench and stared at a tree like a painter would; measuring it, calculating diameter.

He wrote whilst sitting on that bench, the sentence: "What if a tree suddenly fell and I was not here to see it, yet from a distance I could hear it, and in that time of me coming back to investigate the noise a by-passer hoisted the tree back into position? Would the tree have fallen?" he wrote this statement at the age of 12. The day he wrote that was the day that he was asked George Berkeley's popular question that we all know and love.

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