The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Sixty-Four
I Can Fix That...But...
By
now a small crowd had gathered behind Mort’s desk as all tried to
see what was happening on his laptop screen. Mort leaned closer as he
attempted to make sense of it all.
How did Noodlemantra make
it to Depp’s house? Was this all a dream? Was this reality? When
did reality and non-reality cross that fine line that distinguished
the two?
And if Noodlemantra could do it, why couldn’t
they?
Mort felt a body shove him into the edge of his desk
and a quick look revealed that a small mob was trying to volley for a
better point of view of the computer.
“You’re poking me!”
Axel complained.
“Move yer fat arse then!” came Sparrow’s
retort.
“Is that your gun or you just happy to see me, my
fine man?” Duke asked Brasco.
“Forgetaboutit!” Brasco
waved at the whole thing and walked away.
“I still can’t
see anything!” Gilbert cried.
“Can we make room for Mr.
Grape, gentlemen?” Wood shouted through his megaphone,
unfortunately it was leveled at the Frenchman’s ear.
The
Frenchman spun about, grabbing the instrument from Wood’s hands,
shouting in garbled French. He then heaved the megaphone across the
room. It hit the far wall with a sickening crack before falling to
the floor.
“Now see what you’ve done!” Wood cried,
pushing his way from the circle of bodies, apologizing as he stepped
on feet in his three-inch heels.
“That’s the second time
you’ve damaged my personal property! You really must learn to
control yourself, try to be more friendly!”
The Frenchman
made an unfriendly gesture in Wood's direction.
“Jesus H.!”
Mort bellowed as he realized he had missed what was happening on
screen. Already Noodlemantra was inside the foyer, conversing with
Depp who seemed to be discussing another book.
“F--k it!”
he cursed as he hit the power button sending the computer screen into
a black oblivion.
A murmur of protest and cries of anguish
filled the room.
“Why the bloody ‘ell did ye do that
fer?” Sparrow demanded, knowing that Mort would not answer him
directly.
“We’ve lost the best show in the house!” Duke
lamented as he pulled away from the desk in search of his last drink
and carton of cigarettes.
One by one they slowly dispersed,
returning to their respective seats and corners, despondent that they
could no longer see what was going on in the outside world, even if
it had been just a tiny slice of Depp’s world.
Mort huffed
as he returned to the computer, satisfied all had left him alone.
“That wasn’t the smartest thing to do, you know?”
Mort spun around to find Roux leaning against the wall.
“What the f--k do I care? Why the f--k should you?” Mort
spat the words as he returned to the laptop and powered it up again.
The writing program flashed on, the cursor blinking, waiting
for Mort to type the first letter.
“Because it gave them
hope,” Roux began to explain. “ Gave us all hope, knowing that
there is a way out. But you’ve crushed them…one by one… you
singlehandedly took their hopes and dreams and crushed them. At
least by seeing Mr. Noodlemantra interacting with Mr. Depp they knew
there was hope and they could dream of being free of this Room. But
with one press of a button, you took it all away.”
“Don’t
you have something that needs fixing?” Mort sneered.
Roux
looked around the room at all the men, their hearts on their sleeves,
their emotions drained, their goals diminished.
“Yes,”
Roux answered. “I have much to fix. But I fear it will take a long,
long time to repair what needs mending.”
Mort waved Roux
away.
“Then go fix the damn things, whatever it is. If it’s
going to take so long, maybe you should get started.”
Roux
sighed. “Yes, I will go start,” Roux replied. “I have much to
fix, but it looks as if you should start with yourself, Mr. Rainey.”
Mort watched as the gypsy walked away.
“Now what in
the hell is that supposed to mean?” the writer shouted after him.