In the Belly of the Beast

12

Another feast.

Another nightmare.

He didn't know which.

Geoffrey couldn't help but salivate at the offering Ruby placed before him. 

He picked up a tiny bit of golden crust from the chicken and turned it over in his hand. It looked fine, but he knew that looks could be deceiving. 

He sniffed the morsel. It smelled divine. He placed the crispy crumb upon his lip and let the tip of his tongue touch it. Tasted great.

Ravenous hunger got the better of him. 

He threw caution to the wind and fell into the breakfast like a man possessed. Both hands dripped food. 

He had not taken the time to use utensils. He stuffed his mouth again and again. 

His cheeks bulged, the skin around them taut like balloons about to burst. His jaw muscles worked like jackhammers pulverizing the food. His neck stretched and lengthened as he strained to swallow the large mass.

He took a gulping breath and began again. Half-way through his orgy, he became strangled. The food spewed from his mouth in a wide spray.

Slow down, he told himself, and reached for the oversized mug of steaming coffee. He stopped. 

His hands were too slippery. It wouldn't do to scald himself. He spread his fingers wide and slid his palms down the sheet that draped his waist. 

Two gray-brown trails of grease and slime were left behind.

Oh well, he thought, a little dirt never hurt.

His hands, while not immaculate, would pass for holding the mug. He picked up the cup. His fingers and palms left grease prints on its sides.

This coffee smelled better than any he ever remembered. He wondered if Ruby had changed brands. He must be sure to tell her he approved.

He pursed his carp-like lips and blew across the black liquid. The surface of the coffee rippled like a stone thrown into pond. When it had cooled, he took a huge swallow and swished it about his mouth like fine wine.

It tasted like motor oil.

He spit the foul tasting brew back into the cup. It hung from his thick lower lip, dolopping at last into the mug like molasses.

A feather-light tickle skipped across his thumb. He looked down at the mug in time to see a large cockroach, at least three inches long, scamper across his hand. 

Another one was popping his head up from the coffee. Another and another broke the surface of the dark fluid inside the cup. They looked like kids bobbing about the public pool in summer.

He slung the cup across the room. It smashed against the wall, shattering into a hundred pieces. The coffee splashed onto the paint leaving a murky stain that bled down toward the floor.

"Geoffrey!" Ruby cried as she threw open the door. "What on earth's the matter now?"

Ruby looked at the coffee dripping from the opposite wall. Geoffrey said nothing.

"Now look, if you didn't want it, all you had to do was tell me you were through."

For the first time, she looked at Geoffrey.

"And look at you! What did you do, Geoffrey, dive in and dig your way out? You've got food all over you. And look at your sheets! I've never seen such a mess. You must like living like a pig 'cause you sure do look like one."

"I don't need your sermons, Ruby. There were roaches in here. Big roaches."

Ruby was picking up the broken pieces of glass that lay scattered about the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Roaches. I can't stand roaches. Nastiest things in the world. But what else can you expect? You're always hiding food in every nook and cranny like I was starving you or something. Crumbs all over the place. Why this room is nothing but a roach motel, Geoffrey."

She stood up, disposed of the shards in the wastebasket, and moved to the window. She threw open the curtain. The sunlight poured into the room.

"I'm going to get the vacuum, the mop, and whatever else I can find. We're going to have an early spring-cleaning in here, and I don't want any of your lip. You understand?"

She was still muttering about her hatred for roaches as she advanced down the hall. Geoffrey could hear the banging and the clatter as she gathered her cleaning supplies. The sunlight danced about the room, depressingly cheery in its bouncy brightness.

He hated to admit it. She was right. The room looked pretty crappy, especially now that the curtains were opened, and the shadowy gloom was banished.

He liked it better with the shades down and the curtains drawn. It was rather dreary, but the grayness covered a lot. Nothing looked good in the harsh glare of sunlight. Dim light was forgiving.

Corners were rounded. Colors were muted. Everything was softened and easier on the eyes. Shit, he thought as he looked down the vast landscape of fat beneath his neck, even he looked better in the light of dusk.

He'd put up with Ruby's cleanup campaign and then demand that the shades be drawn just like always. It would be worth the inconvenience, if she got rid of the roaches.

His skin crawled at the thought of them, setting off a series of ripples that trembled like an earthquake in a bowl of jello.

Ruby entered the room - mop, pails, sponges in hand. She retreated for the vacuum and broom. 

She ripped the soiled sheet from his waist. The tiny penis retreated as if burned by the sunlight and hid beneath a sagging roll of flesh. She threw a fresh sheet on top of him and began her cleaning.

She worked furiously, with righteous indignation, exterminating the dust bunnies, washing away the stains from the walls, sweeping out the dirt, eliminating Geoffrey's secret stashes of stale food. 

She jerked down the curtains and threw them into the wash. The smelly environment was transformed; everything was clean and fresh.

And when she finished with the room, she began on him. 

She wrestled the fitted sheet from beneath his massive bulk and maneuvered him until she had replaced it with a clean one. 

She filled dishpans with warm water, one soapy, one clear and scrubbed his skin until it was red and shining. She dumped cornstarch into the deep folds of skin and then she attacked his head. His hair stuck up in small black spikes all over his wet scalp.

He was as clean as his surroundings.

"There you go," she said. "All nice and pink. All you need is an apple in your mouth."

He let the remark slide. He didn't want to spoil this feeling of newfound freshness. She gathered up her paraphernalia and left the room.

She called down the hall to him that she would fix an early dinner. She had worked through lunch.