Before the Horns - A Bob Velseb Story

Chapter 1

"...with mild breezes, so be sure to dress warm today!" laughed an over excited news anchor as she read off the forecast for the day. 

Bob blearily opened his eyes to the sound of the television waking him from what had gone from a short nap after work to simply sleeping until the next morning. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and now Bob tended to fall asleep in the recliner more than he did in his own bed. He ran a large hand over his unshaven, stubbly face trying to wake himself up a little more, and yawned while fixing his shaggy, unkempt, black hair. 

Bob scanned the living room, taking mental note that tomorrow was definitely the day he'd clean the place. The small space was only furnished with an old, tan recliner with a short side table beside it and a television stand with a small flat screen sitting on top. The walls were bare, but had holes from where picture frames had once hung on the drywall. Bob promised himself he'd fix them later. The room could have used a dusting as most surfaces were covered in a thin layer of filth, and the carpets were in great need of a good deep clean as they were still covered in scars from where a now removed couch, coffee table, and second recliner had once sat. While the floor plan was relatively small and with the current furniture was still somewhat crowded, the room felt too large and empty for just one man to occupy. 

The sun beaming through the window felt nice on his skin, but he knew good and well it'd be cold outside as it had been the last few days in the mid-October weather. Bob willed himself out of the oh-so comfortable safety of the plush recliner and shambled sleepily down the hall to his room to change. 

The bedroom was difficult to traverse it was so messy, with the floor littered with dirty clothes and a few lonely shoes laying sadly without their partner. Bob huffed realizing how terribly disheveled the house had become. 

Oh god, I really ought to get a hold of this place, you'd think I'd've been raised in a barn, he thought to himself. Bob picked up a shoe that had been missing its match and kicked aside a few dirty shirts that'd been on the floor for who knows how long, to set the sneaker back in the closet by its right counterpart. He smiled sadly, sighing out loud to the only person in the house, himself, and grabbed a new outfit. Well I guess I can put the bedroom on the list for tomorrow too then.

After dressing, Bob pulled the covers from the bed off the floor and set them back on the bare mattress. Under where the quilt had sat lay a large red sweater, which Bob picked up. He began to pull on over his work shirt, but stopped when he realized how badly it smelled. He threw the dirty sweater over the hamper rim and went back to the closet to instead grab a black zip-up that was clean, unlike most of his other clothes.

As he pulled it off the hanger, a little green blouse fell from its own hanger on top of the reunited shoes. It was far too small for a tall heavyset man like Bob to ever dream of wearing, and much too feminine for his taste. He frowned at the thing and picked it up off his shoes, kicking one sneaker away from the other with a black leather uniform shoe. 

He held the top tight in a single clenched fist, taking it to the kitchen to throw it away. He opened the lid of the trash can but hesitated before dropping it. He sighed, "Pull yourself together Bob, it's just a stupid piece of fabric. Why keep it?" The thought of tossing it hurt, but he knew there was no use keeping it. It'd only make it more painful having to see it in the closet every day. 

He squeezed his eyes tight and dropped the blouse among the other garbage in the bin. It was where it belonged after all, and served no purpose to him, left and forgotten without a second chance from the person who loved it. No matter how hard he fought to stay or how many promises of betterment, it was his place. He shook his head, snapping himself out of the spiral and turned to the cupboard to look for something to eat for breakfast. 

The kitchen seemed to be the only clean room in the house, even though it was the most used. Bob smiled and reminded himself that at least it wasn't the whole house that was a disaster. He prided himself in how well he kept up his kitchen, always making sure the counters were cleaned, the sink wasn't piled with dishes, and that anything that may start a clutter stayed on the dining room table, which was in fact covered in things that would clutter his kitchen. It was stacked high with envelopes, papers, random trinkets and other things he deemed mess starters, which had all teamed up to successfully make a mess. Then again it was all in the dining room, not the kitchen so Bob still considered it a win.

Sitting with a bowl of cereal at the counter, Bob checked his watch. 7:43. He finished his breakfast as quickly as he could so that he'd still open on time at 8 'o'clock. The butcher shop was the last constant in his life in the past few months, and was one of the things that kept him going. As tired as he was when he came home from work every day, he still truly enjoyed getting to work in his little shop diner 'Boys and Grills' as much as the day as he first opened it. It made a huge difference in his day getting to see his customers enjoy the food he made, and was worth every moment of struggle in starting it up, every rude customer, and every doubt his folks back home had in his success. 

Bob quickly rinsed his bowl, set it in the dishwasher and rushed out the door so he'd make it on time. He decided he had time to walk to work if he hurried, as the walk wasn't too far. Plus he enjoyed walking to work, especially this time of year. It wasn't smoldering hot, but also not freezing cold, and he loved watching the fall leaves blow around. 7:52, I still have time, Bob reminded himself, as he walked down the sidewalk. He pulled his jacket closed, shivering from the cold morning breeze and admired the yard decorations around him. 

Halloween always seemed to be a big deal around this town, and he loved getting to walk down the streets every October to see what people were doing to celebrate Spooky Month. Almost every house was decked out in some sort of Halloween décor. Houses without big decorations had at least a tombstone or two in the yard, winking a quiet acknowledgement of the holiday. Even the older folks in town made sure to decorate, and those who couldn't usually asked for help or would get decorated by kids in the surrounding homes before they ever needed to ask.

It was something he didn't get to experience often as a kid in the little rural town he'd grown up in. Most of the people were too old to care about the holiday and those who weren't too old viewed the celebration as unholy or made to worship the devil. Even if people had celebrated, homes were spaced too far from each other to properly Trick-or-Treat. However in this little suburb, it was much easier to have fun at Halloween. Bob couldn't help but smile. The whole place was a breath of fresh air and a new start, even if he did still love going back to his roots.

Bob waved to a few familiar faces on the walk to Boys & Grills with a smile on his face, like he'd never felt down at all. After arriving at the storefront, he pulled out a large keyring and shuffled through the keys in search of the one to open up shop. The keyring had nearly 30 different keys on it, though Bob couldn't remember where most of them came from or what they were for. There was also a little clay charm on the ring that was old as dirt and was so worn you wouldn't ever be able to guess what it was supposed to be without having seen it before getting ruined. He felt bad for the miserable little trinket and it mostly clogged up the ring, but he just didn't have the heart to get rid of it. It'd been there for years and the little clay blob was made especially for him by one of his regular's kids, so what was the point in trashing it?

After leafing through all the keys twice, he'd found the right one and unlocked the door. Bob was greeted by a cheery jingle from the bell over the door that made him smile every time it rang. It meant it was time for work, or someone was coming in for something to eat, or leaving with their purchase, or that he finally got to go home and rest until it was time to hear the happy little bell again. 

He turned over the open sign and checked his watch. 7:58, right on time. He let the door sway back closed and the little bell chimed again as Bob strolled into the back room. He took a red hat off its hook holding it with his teeth as he tied an apron behind his back while returning to the counter to wipe it down. Once the apron was on, he adjusted the hat size, pulled the cap over his messy hair, and waited for the usual crowd to roll around.