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Tom Waltz

Copyright © 2001
All Rights Reserved

It came today.

It was kind of funny because I was washing my hands when I heard the postman drop it through the mail slot. It was in one of those plain white envelopes with the little plastic window in the front. My name and address were there and the sender's was above it to the left:


I didn't have to open it to know what it said. Actually, I've been waiting for it. No--dreading it really. Still, I tore it open and looked at the contents anyway. It was a shut-off notice, of course. I am going to lose my water if I don't pay IMMEDIATELY for my past due balance (please disregard if payment has already been sent, thank you).

I don't know what I'm going to do now. I need the water--need to wash. I'm sure if they knew what happened they would understand. But, how do I tell them? My telephone is disconnected and by the time a letter gets to them the water will already be turned off and I honestly don't think I can take a day without it. I'm just not clean yet. I've got to keep washing.

I need the water.

That damn girl!

It just looked so easy on the TV. I mean, drive up, chitchat for a few seconds, make an offer, take her to a motel, conduct business, and leave. Simple. I just didn't expect to panic like I did. And the bitch--why didn't she just let me be? Heck, if I saw someone having a panic attack like that I'd just stand back and let it happen. Those kinds of attacks don't last forever; she should have known that. But, no, she had to call me those names, the same names I've always heard. Didn't she know that you are never supposed to insult the customer, no matter what? The customer is ALWAYS right. That's what Mr. Jansen at work says.

Oh boy--work. I wonder if they've hired a replacement for me yet? It's not going to be easy; I was a good employee. I just couldn't go back. Not like this. It would be too revolting for the customers. They don't need to see this.

God, why did she have to do that--call me all those awful things? It wasn't my fault I panicked. It just happens sometimes. I was nervous. If she had only been more understanding, everything would have been fine. Instead, I get name-calling. I suppose I shouldn't expect much from her type.

Still, she wasn't being fair! I didn't want to hurt her--just shut her up. I hit her pretty hard I guess. Too many times.

She should have let me be.

I wonder how long it was before someone found her body in the room? Not that it matters really. The news lady did a commentary the other day on how nobody in that neighborhood cares about anything that happens there. "No community spirit," she said. I don't think the police will be knocking on my door any time soon. Only the postman with his bad news.

God, I can't let them turn my water off. I'm still dirty.

So dirty.

I don't know if I'll ever get clean.

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