The Madwoman in the Musicroom

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

All these stories are true, I swear.

The Madwoman in the Music Room

There’s a madwoman in the music-room, again; she turned up with a wheelie bin full of her worthless possessions. No money, no tobacco, no food, no dignity; the list goes on. I had to set up the foldout bed in the music room myself, as she’s so useless, selfish and stoned. She’s ‘given up’ her abode in squalid Forest Hill, which is unfortunate to say the least. I’ve got to tell her to leave – my landlord, Jack Grancharof, had just died aged ninety- two and the executives want to put the place up for sale. I’ve no idea who currently owns it, so it’s technically terra nullius.

How am I going to get rid of her this time? She keeps asking me to score from Scoop, as she is unable to due to the AVO he has out on her. It’s not my problem, I insist; if you want drugs go and get them yourself, but don’t bring them back here.

She moans and lachrymates, but I don’t want to have anything to do with her and her drugs. I don’t want Senior Constable Jake ‘Herohead’ Ellis coming over, so she’ll have to lay low; but of course, she can’t exist without drugs, so it’s a viscous circle; but again, not my problem.

I’m living on beans, lentils, rice and corn chips mostly. There’s still plenty of chillies in the garden, and she hates spicy food. It’s been raining and I’ve had the fire going. The esoteric ABC arts shows drive her up the wall, so I watch all of them; the one I’m currently watching has Lily Cole modelling nude for Fiona Banner, who described her form in text on the canvas. Brilliant!

“Poe? Isn’t there anything else on?” she complains, but what is better than a Cambridge-educated supermodel posing nude for an artist, even if the artist chooses to paint in words. It’s doing the madwoman’s head in. I’ll starve her out with healthy vegetarian food and bore her senseless with esoteric arts programmes, as her preferences are Kentucky fried nuggets and Home and Away’. It’s only a matter of time before she flees to Charlie’s place.

It’s Saturday morning now and I’ve escaped the compound. She’ll know I’m at the library, but she won’t go out in the rain, or where Jake can see her in broad daylight. She’ll be going spare without nicotine and will be ringing me constantly asking me to buy tobacco and cannabis sativa from Scoop, but I deliberately left my mobile phone behind. That’ll piss her off. She’ll probably come looking for me – if not at the library, then at the Bottom Pub for the ‘toss’ from midday, where I try to win free glasses of wine from the publican, Danny Milne.

My plan is to go to Ajanta, the bourgeois cafe next door to the library, and have a coffee. Leigh, the owner, will be surprised to see me, as I haven’t been there for some time. A free glass of wine seems a more attractive prospect than a three-dollar fifty cup of coffee, although it is very good coffee.

I hope my cat Tom Tom will be OK with her going nutty, and I know she’ll read my poems and stories if she finds them and probably write ridiculous comments over them in red. I don’t really like leaving a mad woman in the shack, but it’s better than staying there. If only I had an attic to lock her in – then I could invite sane women around. I’d have my music room back and work on my song:

You’re gonna have to fight for my love

If your gonna survive

Your gonna have to fight for my love

Even if its gonna die.

Yeah, it’s pretty corny and potentially morbid, but the chords I stole from Leonard Cohen, B minor, E minor, A, E, sound great on my electric guitar. I have a strong suspicion that there is a sign out the front of the shack declaring: ‘Mad women welcome! Bring no food, no money, no tobacco nor hope.’ I haven’t found it yet, so I assume it is written in a script that only madwomen are able to recognise.

 

 

 

 


Submitted: June 15, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Craig Davison. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Mike S.

I feel for you, Craig; excellent!

Mon, June 15th, 2020 5:33pm

Author
Reply

Thanks Mike. Yes, she is mad and she wants me to meet her in rehab - in Canberra, hundreds of kilometres away! Oh well, more brownie points towards my sainthood I suppse. St. Craig of Coolamon, the Patron Saint of Madwomen and Tray Cats.

Mon, June 15th, 2020 9:05pm

hullabaloo22

What about Tom Tom? Could he go and hide up in the library too!

Mon, June 15th, 2020 7:54pm

Author
Reply

No. He has to fend for himself. I found him under my stationary car about ten years ago after someone dumped him and I have moved around with. No, he hid outside when she was around. And now I'm getting another stray cat!. I'm going to call her Persephone Esoterica, or Tess for short. I always wanted a girl named Persephone, but their mum said no and I got Stella and Tallulah instead.

Mon, June 15th, 2020 10:46pm

Jobe Rubens

I loved Prisoner Cell Block H - as teenagers we'd stay up and watch it even on week days. It was on late - 11 at night. We all had our favourite characters - the screws, loved the screws. And the theme song still brings tears to my eyes.

Tue, June 16th, 2020 4:43pm

Author
Reply

Yeah, we called it Prisoner, but that may have been confuses with The Prisoner, the Patrick McGoohan series. I've been to Portmarion (sic) in Wales where they shot the series.

Thu, June 18th, 2020 4:26pm

Sharief Hendricks

What a hectic yet fascinating ordeal you suffered Craig !

If she does find your poems and stories, I hope she will actually read them, who knows, she might have a moment of clarity...

Hopefully your luck with females will or has changed for the better !

Enjoyed it !

Tue, August 18th, 2020 11:26am

Author
Reply

What a coincidence! I got a text message from her this morning. "Fucked Goey (Goanna) last night omg his tongue drove me insane..." Like I need to know the sordid details of her or Goanna's private life. Anyway, drugs drove her insane. All his women are drug fucked. I wonder if the Sooky Girl gives a fuck? She accused me of being intimate with the Mad Bitch. Honestly, only a complete fuckwit would have anything to do with her, particularly during a pandemic. It's good being isolated and a nice woman from my past tracked me down on Booksie. However, she is in lockdown in Melbourne, Australia's Covid19 hotspot. Oh well, we talk on the phone for hours. She is funny, which is far preferable to being a MadBitch or a Sooky Girl. Thanks for the comment.

Tue, August 18th, 2020 8:36pm

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