The Firebird, and Pants VOL 1. CHP 1. VERSE 3 (Draft 2)

Volume One: The Road Out

Chapter One

Verse Three: The Firebird, and Pants

Marion peered through the metal metal grill work down five floors to the cracked and settled asphalt below. Water had filled in old pot holes. The alley was littered with garbage that consisted of a few more broken bottles than Marion had hoped to see.

"I don't know that I have a choice at all, "Marion said and swung a naked leg over the railing of the fire escape.

He swung his other leg over and then stretched a leg out to reach the other fire escape. His foot touched down and, as he attempted to shift his weight, Marion lost his balance and his feet slid further apart. His left leg snagged on the railing on his fire escape and left him stuck awkwardly balancing between the two fire escapes. Marion shifted his weight and tried to find a balance point where he could safely move his right foot over to his fire escape, while at the same time trying to not look down. Marion did not consider himself particularly afraid of heights, but balancing over a five story void had a way of introducing the concept that was new and surprisingly effective. As he struggled to free his left leg and also regain enough balance to move his right leg, Marion noticed movement from the alleyway below. Taking a moment to look, he saw a man in a dark suit and sunglasses watching him for the alley below. Marion tried to get a good look, but the fire escape creaked and Marion was forced to heave his right leg to his side to prevent himself from slipping further. He quickly swung one leg and then the other over the railing to safety before looking back. But when he looked again, he saw nothing but a poster for "Men in Black 5: K's Still Alive!"

Shaking his head in the hopes of clearing his mind, Marion reached through the small opening left in his window and grasped the slim line of rope that would open the lock on his window. He pulled, and nothing happened. He pulled again, a little harder, and felt a strange resistance in the line. He gave the line a solid yank, hoping to pull loose whatever was snagging in his system, and hear a melodic jangle that Marion knew was the sound of three coat hangers falling to the floor and his system failing entirely.

Marion looked back the Men in Black poster and barred his teeth in a growl as though the poster and ghost CIA agent look alike were somehow to blame. He looked through the window and saw his pants laying in a crumpled pile in the hallway. Marion knew that he would now have to break the window if he wanted to get in.

Worries began to have a town council meeting in Marion's head. He worried that Mr. Grimly would hear the sound of breaking glass. He worried that Mr. Grimly might use the sound of breaking glass as an excuse to barge into his apartment. He worried that Mr. Grimly would use the whole event as an excuse to evict him and possibly even call the police. Mr. Grimly had never liked Marion as far as he could tell. They had never been friends. Marion didn't think Mr. Grimly liked friends. You couldn't charge friends rent.

"I don't think Mr. Grimly will ever forgive me for that inflatable Moose Incident," Marion said quietly to himself, "He won't forgive me for this either, but at least this one would be my fault. But, If I'm very lucky, Mr. Grimly will never know about this one."

Marion knew Mr. Grimly was a stranger to compassion, and that he would evict if no rent was forthcoming. And since Marion couldn't pay his rent if he got fired, options seemed to be a choice between bad option number one and bad option number two. So no point in hesitating now.

He looked around, but saw no tool that he could use to break the window. Marion examined the window. It was very old and consisted only of a single pane of glass. From experience, Marion knew that the window let in the cold without mercy. It couldn't be that strong. Marion looked at his hands and experimentally balled both hands into fists. Marion shook his head, unconvinced at this own display. He closed his eyes, and swung a clenched fist at the window.

The sound ofbBreaking glass erupted in Marion's ears and he was surprised that blow hadn't hurt. He opened his eyes to find his right hand red with blood and slowly became aware of a sharp sting in his knuckles.

"I'm never lucky." Marion said quietly as he pulled the last big glass shards of the window and began squeezing through the window. Half way through, Marion realized he could have opened the window now that it was broken and not risked cutting himself on the shatter glass still in the frame. He realized this as the glass cut his thighs in neat angular little grooves. The pain in his thighs was excruciating as he pulled himself through. When he finally stood inside his apartment again, he found himself wondering if Mrs. Trilby was right about that tumor and his attention to detail.

He walked to the sink and washed his knuckles and his thighs, delicately putting X-Men band-aids over the cuts, using a whole box of band-aids in the process, since he didn't have any larger bandages, his last box of band-aids in fact. He felt a bit woozy and wasn't too pleased with the day's current performance. Marion splashed water on his face to hopefully clear his head. But when he removed his hands and looked at the mirror, his reflection was gone.

In place of the mirror and the expected reflection, Marion was staring at a bird, much like a pheasant or a peacock with a long sweeping tail, but also impressively expansive wings. The bird was an iridescence of reds and golds that moved in waves over a black backing like fire over hot coals. Actual flames licked the air around the bird and it looked at Marion intently. Then it cocked it's head away into the distance and took flight, a nimbus of flame surrounding it. Marion debated following it, but found that it didn't matter. He was flying behind the firebird- coasting on its wake.

They flew out over a lonely highway, passing a worn down old diner out past the end of the highway into a vast wilderness and then on. They flew over a small village built of mud or clay with grass on the roofs and further on into a blasted landscape of burned fields and shattered homes. The land below took on the appearance of a war zone or the aftermath of a zombie outbreak, slowly becoming increasingly urban until the firebird's flight took them straight into the heart of a city under siege by its own people, with fires in the streets and upturned cars. The firebird aimed its path for a huge skyscraper in the center of the city and Marion held his breath as they aimed straight at the shimmering glass facade.

The scene shattered to sound of exploding glass and Marion found himself floating in darkness.

The firebird circled and then landed in the void and sat, quietly nesting in the darkness. Marion looked around and saw a vast spiderweb stretching across the darkness and a small girl with hair in dark braids stuck fast in the center of the web. To Marion's horror the web began to dance as something large and heavy began to move along the web, deep in the darkness. As Marion stared in horror a pounding drumbeat began in the distance. The Girl began to struggle and then seemed to notice Marion. She looked at him, and then seemed to look past him. Marion turned around to follow her gaze and found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror of his bathroom.

Marion stared at his reflection a moment, and then shook his head.

"Maybe Mrs. Trilby is on to something," He said quietly.

Then Marion noticed that the drumbeat was still pounding in the background. And then Marion realized it was the sound of a meaty fist pounding on his apartment door.

"I know you're in there you little newt. I heard you banging around. If that glass was anything important its coming out of your damage deposit. Hell, I'll skin you and sell your skinny hide to make up my missing rent! Open this door before I break it in! Doors are expensive!"

"I'm not that far behind on my rent." Marion muttered to himself, "Maybe torture and then allow to live level of late. But no, Grimly goes straight to skinning and selling my hide."

Mr. Grimly kept banging on the door, demanding to be let in.

"Let me in! I'm your landlord! You've got no secrets from me you filthy little salamander!"

Marion realized that Mr. Grimly was counting on Marion opening the door so the landlord could pretend he had been invited in. But Grimly sounded really angry and might graduate from yelling to actually entering the apartment without permission, Tenancies Act be damned.

Marion ran out into his front hall and grabbed his pants.

Marion heard the sound of jangling metal from the hall, a key chain. Panicking, Marion jammed a chair under the door and flipped the three door-bolts into place. Marion had added the door-bolt two months ago after Mr. Grimly snuck into Marion's apartment to wait for Marion to return home. Mr. Grimly had tried to insinuate that he could have Marion killed and the body disposed of quite easily. The landlord had made references to alleged criminal friends and a dog breeder who wasn't picky on what she used to make her kibble. Marion hadn't really believed the landlord, but had no intention of testing his claims and had installed the door-bolts the next day, one at the top of the door about forehead level, one about chest level and one near the ankles. Marion didn't bother to put on his grey work pants. Instead, he went back to the broken window and, opening it this time, he slipped out and began climbing down the fire escape, pants in hand.

Marion heard the door open and then a metal thud as the door reached the limit allowed by the door-bolts

"How dare you install a door-bolt you little worm! I'm going to nail your skinny ass to the wall you little skink!"

Marion tried to pull on his pants as he ran, but the converse made that impossible. He paused and untied his laces, ignoring the passersby who were no doubt eyeing up his Astro Boy boxer briefs. As he pulled his pants on, Marion looked up to see the number eight Main street bus pulling into the stop. He grabbed his converse and ran in mismatched stocking feet towards the bus stop, but was still a block away when the bus pulled out from the curb and rounded the corner onto main street.

Marion staggered to a cursing and wheezing halt, watching his only hope coil out of sight round the corner. He sighed.

"I'm never lucky."

Never Lucky VOL 1. CHP 1. VERSE 2. (Draft 2)

Volume One: The Road Out

Chapter One

Verse Two: Never Lucky

Marion stood and tried to run to the pile of clothing to look for his work clothes. His legs crashed against the inside of the sleeping bag he used for bedding and he landed like a drunk in a three legged race on the floor, aging synthetic carpet scraping open his forearms.

"Late. Late. Late." Marion muttered and he belly crawled out of the sleeping bag towards the pile of clothes. On the top of the pile sat two socks: one red with two black horizontal stripes and one with an argyle design in burgundy and salmon. Marion gave the socks a sniff, shrugged and slipped the socks on. Sifting through the pile of clothes he found his gym shirt and gym shorts, a Star Wars t-shirt, a Fight Club T-shirt, an Avatar t-shirt, a grey silk neck tie and no collared dress shirt.

"Late. Shirt. Late. Shirt." Marion stood up and opened his closet. He flung the tie over his shoulder and began digging through the bigger pile of t-shirts in the closet. No collared shirt materialized. Marion only had one collared shirt, and it was not on his floor or in his closet.

"Okay, shirt later, eat first. late!"

Marion slid across the linoleum in the kitchen to the fridge and pulled it open. The fridge sat empty save for a tin of cat treats and three MacDonald brand single serving ketchup packets in the door tray. Marion paused and looked at the cat treats and then the ketchup and finally picked up the ketchup packets and squeezed each packet into his open mouth in turn.

"Breakfast of Champions!"

Marion spun, and made his way to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror, and began to wash his face. Something caught his attention. He made a few attempts to comb his unruly hair, but gave up. Marion's hair didn't sit down without a shower and more product than he liked to admit to- and he didn't have time right now. He looked back in the mirror. Something was off. Then Marion saw the problem. He was still wearing his work shirt.

Marion's memory kicked back into gear, admittedly a little late. He had been told last night that he had to do mandatory overtime to get the Mother's Day stock out on display for the morning opening of the store. He'd been up until almost two in the morning sorting Oprah bait. Marion was amazed he'd made it into his bed at all. He tied his tie using the Kent knot, adjusted it a little to get the tie looking symmetrical, and then headed for the door. he grabbed his red converse sneakers and laced them up. Marion noticed, as he laced up his shoes that the scrape on his left shin had scabbed over and seemed to be healing nicely. Mr. Grimly, Marion's landlord, had opened the scrape in Marion's shin when the landlord had tried to push his way into Marion's apartment last Friday to demand overdue rent from Marion. Marion finished lacing his shoes and stood up.

Marion glanced at a retro Spider-man wall clock over his weary looking iMac. He didn't have much hope of making it to work on time, even if he hit every bus transfer perfectly. But he knew he had to try. He quickly stepped out the door and locked it behind him.

He needed to his the Number 8 Main Street Bus first if he stood any chance of making it to work. Then he stopped as a thought caught up with him. He wasn't holding his buss pass.Where was his bus pass? It should have been in his pocket. Where was his pocket? Wait, and why could he see his shin? He wasn't wearing pants. And the door was already locked.

Marion was standing in the hall of his apartment building wearing a white dress shirt a grey silk tie, red converse sneakers and red Astro Boy boxer briefs and nothing else. When he stumbled home last night after his shift he had managed to get his pants off, but not his shirt.

Marion stared at the door as it barred they way between him and his pants. Allons-Y Books drew its employees from a large pool of perpetually unemployed and underemployed arts students and arts grads. Marion knew he was utterly replaceable. Getting to work involved two bus transfers and a three km run and was never convenient. Marion had been late before, particularly when he was required to work late and start early. His manager, Mr. Wheatley didn't care about excuses, especially when the excuse was that his management ability was more in line with the Pharaoh in Exodus than with modern human ethics standards.

Marion had received two previous disciplinary warnings, one about his tardiness and one about his 'lack of company spirit'. Marion sold more books than any three other employees at Allons-Y combined, but he never managed to sell any of the highly promoted odds and ends that the company called 'display pieces' and Marion called 'Oprah Bait'- useless items that looked good placed around Oprah Book club books displayed in a way that told you instantly that their owner would never read the books the pieces were designed to compliment.

Marion debated his options. He could buy pants on the way, but that would take too long. He was particular about his pants, and didn't have money to spend on pants he didn't like. He could simply show up without pants, but then Mr. Wheatley would be able to add Marion's perfectly sculpted quads to his list of reasons to hate Marion. He could simply deny that he had forgotten his pants, but his ability to effect a Jedi mind trick was still in development. He could climb into the clothing donation bin underneath his fire escape and use those pants, but he would almost certainly get stuck and then some homeless guy would steal his astro boy briefs while Marion was trapped.

No, Marion knew that his bus pass, his keys and his pants were all essential to getting to work and keeping his job, and he needed his job to catch up on the rent after he gave Mrs. Trilby next door the $500 to help with Mercer's colon surgery last month.

Marion needed to get back into his apartment.

Marion realized he had another option: fire escape. Marion had climbed over the fire escape and in through a window into his apartment to avoid Mr. Grimly several times in the past, and had climbed out the same way many times for the same reason. Marion had used the window as an entry point so many times in the past that he had rigged a pulley system with clothesline and several coat hangers so that he could pull open the window and still have it appear locked.

Marion discounted the fire escape as soon as he considered it though. he would have to go outside and climb up, people would see him and he was fairly confident that they would attempt to steal his Astro Boy boxer briefs. He also considered the possibility that he would be arrested for indecent exposure. He also decided that he probably should have included that in his previous calculations.

The only option, that he could see was to ask Mrs. Trilby next door for help. Mrs. Trilby never slept. Their apartments were adjacent, and the fire escapes were attached. If Mrs. Trilby was home, and she was always home, Marion could climb out her window and onto the fire escape and use his pulley system to unlock the window and climb in and get his pants. Marion was fairly confident Mrs. Trilby would let him climb out her window, he looked after her cats when she went on her bus tours and he even sat and let her show him her photos when she got back. Marion had never been on a road trip.

Marion nodded to himself and knocked on Mrs. Trilby's door.

After a brief pause punctuated by the cries of her seven cats, Mrs. Trilby opened the door. She smiled when she saw Marion, then her eyes tracked downward and widened as she noticed his attire and then she shook her head and sighed.

"Hi, Mrs. Trilby, I need to climb out your fire escape."

"Marion. You're just wearing your pants."

"No, that's the problem, I'm not wearing my pants. They're in my apartment along with my key and my bus pass and I'm late for work as of roughly zero minutes. Can I climb out your window onto the fire escape so I can into my apartment and get my pants?"

"Oh dear, Marion how did you forget your trousers? I've worried about you for some time you know boy. You need to see a psychologist or psychiatrist or, you know, some other Brainshrinker specialist, because you may be clever, but I wonder if everything is wired in correctly some days. Today is definitely one of those days."

"My brain is wired fine Mrs. Trilby, I'm just distracted. But I really think that getting my pants is more important that us discussing the wiring of my brain at this exact moment, don't you?"

"It's never a good time. But you are a dear and I am not going to sit by and not state my worries. The more I think about it now, the more I am sure that his episode is proof of some dangerous malignant brain tumor And you will not brush this aside, just because you are young and think you are invincible."

"I don't think I'm invincible Mrs. Trilby. I think I'll lose my job if I show up late or without pants or both. Don't you? I can't pay for a brainshrinker if I lose my job now can I?"

Mrs. Trilby considered this, "That does make make some sense. But you remember what happened to my Mercer, he almost didn't make it because we ignored his tummy pains. Fine, you can come in, but I expect to see you looking into a good shrinker person as soon as you have cash. Do you hear? You were a dear to help us out, now I insist you help yourself."

"I will Mrs. Trilby. Now, please, the window. Pants."

She let him in and as she closed the door, her cats engulfed him. Seven big aging tabbies each a good fifteen pounds at least, surrounded and nuzzled Marion. The oldest cat, Mercer stepped off the bookshelf right onto Marion's shoulders and snuggled in and began to purr.

"He knows you helped him. I swear." Mrs. Trilby added.

"I think he knows I keep treats for him in my fridge. And I love Mercer, but I have to get moving or I'm going to lose my job and probably this apartment."

"You know, if you had a degree in something you might be able to get a better job."

"I have a Masters Degree in Literature specializing in Post-Colonial Literature. I am an honest to Vishnu scholar."

"I meant becoming a Doctor or a lawyer or something 'real', like Sammy across the hall, she's a hospice nurse- she gets paid to wipe the behinds of people like me when we start thinking that we're seeing our parents for the second time. It's good money, you could some of that action if you got a useful degree."

Marion waded his way through Mrs. Trilby's seven cats. Cobra had latched claws onto Marion's argyle sock and Marion was forced to drag the black cat along, a game that Cobra never tired of. Fluffy leaned in to every step that Marion made and even though Marion knew to lift his legs up and over the white Persian, the effort made walking a challenge. Fone, Phoney and Smiley meowed in stereo or whatever the triple version of stereo was and tried to block Marion's way. Robin Hood lay several steps in front, creamy belly turned skyward and already purring expectantly. Marion held his left hand away from his body and snapped his fingers. The heads of seven cats turned in unison and moved under the the outstretched hand allowing Marion a chance to move past them.

"They listen to you better than me some days."

"Being their uncle and not their mamma makes it easier. I get to bring the treats and not the spray bottle."

"That's true I suppose."

"I'm getting distracted again. I need to move."

"You see. Forgetting again. I think you've got a brain tumor like that John Travolta character in that movie where he's telegraphic and buys all those ugly chairs from that nice lady and Forrest Whittaker plays that nice Radio guy, or was that Cuba Gooding Jr? I hope it was Whittaker, I like his acting better, he seems nice even when he's playing a bad guy."

"I'm not sure that there are a lot actual bad guys in the world, just people trying to be good in the wrong ways."

As he spoke, Marion opened the window and climbed onto the fire escape. He looked to his left at his own window and stopped. Mrs. Trilby saw him pause and asked, "What's the matter dear?"

"They don't connect." Marion said, staring in dismay, "There's a three foot gap or so between the fire escapes. I'd never noticed before."

"Before?"

"I've used the fire escape a bunch, but always up and down. Never across."

"That's not very far. You're young."

"We're five storys up."

"Well that is a fact."

"I don't know that I have a choice though, "Marion said.