New WiP (Indefinite hiatus)

"Don't tell me you actually bought it?" I asked, hope not having left me entirely yet. '
>Sadly, I was disappointed.
"Why wouldn't I? I told you that I ordered it, and you just shrugged and went back to your own book!"
>Mike looked at me as if I was the crazy one, the brown packet in his hands proof of his purchase.
"Damn right I did, because I thought you were fucking with me. I mean, I don't exactly know your bank account's balance, but I know that it can't look much better than mine. We still have to pay rent, and then you go and blow a few hundred bucks on a goddamn book?"
>I was talking myself into a rage, but Mike still seemed indifferent.
"Rob, just believe me. This book might help solve all our problems. And don't worry about my finances, I can handle that well enough on my own. Now, if you could step out of the way, I would like to get started on this bad boy."
>He stroked the package as if it was a small animal, and reluctantly I stepped out of his way, allowing him to head down the corridor towards his room.
"Just don't dare to let me pay rent on my own this month," I told him as he passed me, but all I got were a dismissive grin and a raised middle finger before he stepped into his room and closed the door.
>For a moment I considered following him and continuing my lecture, but in the end decided against it.
>What good would it have done?
>Mike had always had his own head, and over the years not only his parents and varying girlfriends, but also at least one court-appointed therapist had to abandon their attempts to get through to him.
>I returned to my room as well, but made it a point to slam my door.
>Childish and petty, sure, but if it disturbed his reading for a second, it was worth it.
>I let out a sigh as I sat down on my couch and considered what to do now.
>I had planned to spend the afternoon reading some nice historical literature; Leon Degrelle's memoirs had come in the mail the day before, but I found that after the confrontation in the hallway the thought of reading now seemed unappealing.
>Leave it to Mike to suck the fun out of your day, even if just temporarily.
>Of course, he was still my best friend, but at times he could be downright frustrating.
>So what to do?
>My computer had fried its harddrive the other day, and television in the early afternoon was only something for moronic proles.
>At times, when I had made the mistake to turn it on after eating and caught glimpses of shows like "Sue me if you dare!" I had found myself idly wondering if these shows were even made for human consumption or just the result of the infamous 1000 monkeys behind typewriters experiment.
>No, television was out of the question as well.
>With nothing to do, and the infuriating book alongside its frustrating reader only a few metres away, I decided that I needed a whiff of fresh air.
>I stepped back into the hallway and grabbed my jacket, yelling in the direction of Mike's room that I would be gone for a while, and if I should get him something from the store.
>No answer.
>That sat just right with me, and I was out of our flat before Mike could possibly change his mind.
>It was early autumn, and low hanging grey clouds and a cold wind blowing outside did their part to intensify my gloomy mood.
>As I made my way past piles of brown leaves and dead-looking trees, I pondered what could have gotten Mike to buy that stupid book.
>Over the years, we both had taken an interest in fringe subjects, but while I simply fostered an interest in, let's say, extreme politics, Mike had turned towards various eastern religions and the "occult".
>It had begun harmlessly enough, with him reading the stories of H.P. Lovecraft and other authors with similar subject matter, but had quickly broadened into different flavors of the supernatural.
>We'd had a few fun weeks when we found our interests overlap in esoteric hitlerism, but Mike had quickly ditched the subject, while I still found it fun to speculate about antarctic bases and 1940's era UFOs.
>As I made my way through our town, I couldn't help but once again notice the signs of the times.
>Stickers of radical leftist goups on what felt like every second lamppost or street sign, junkies and dealers huddled around the entrance to the train station...
>I quickened my pace to get away from these human wrecks before one of them might get the bright idea to rob me for drug money.
>I could do without that sort of trouble.
>On a whim, I knocked at my old friend George's home, before remembering that he was on vacation in Spain and wouldn't be back for another week.
>With him out of the picture, I continued onwards towards my original goal, the local grocery store.
>The warm light shining through the front windows were a welcome reprieve from the gloomy mood outside.
>If you think about it, there's a certain similarity to anglerfish.
>I walked through the aisles, not really certain what we needed or what I wanted.
>If only I had taken a look into the fridge before I left.
>Finally I settled for a few canned soups and a sixpack of Radler.
>Mike would probably call me a fag for that, but as far as I am concerned, Radler makes for a much better drink while sitting at the computer than beer or even wine.
>Of course, hard alcohol was always an option as well, but I could do without a hangover on my free days.
>Only when I left the store, I realized that my PC was still broken.
>Cursing myself, I contemplated returning the bottles, before deciding Fuck it, the day had been shitty enough.
>The least I could do was have a nice evening on the couch with my six little friends.
>On the way home, I shoved one bottle up into the arm of my jacket, were I could slide it down into my hand to beat it into the face of any junkie who tried to rob me, but when I passed the train station, the only trace of the scum that had been surrounding the entrance were some half smoked cigarettes and a puddle of unidentifiable liquid.
>Maybe they had finally stabbed each other before dragging themselves into the bushes, or the police had done their jobs for once.
>Either way, good riddance.
>I briefly considered ringing the doorbell to rouse Mike from his mail-order necronomicon, but decided against it.
>With his habit of listening to music while reading there was no guarantee he would even hear me, and on the chance that he did, I would probably have to listen to him droning on and on about his new toy, and I could do just fine without that.
>Why had he even thought it a good idea to buy that scam of a book?
>Lovecraft himself had admitted to having made the book up, and still Mike had forked over a not insignificant amount of cash for this cheap joke.
>I shook my head while I stowed the cans of soup in the kitchen, before retreating back to my own room.
>From Mike's, there came the sounds of some obscure band, and there was light coming from under the door, but otherwise there was no sign of him.
>Probably completely absorbed into his waste of money.
>I shook my head once more as I opened my first bottle of the evening and closed my door behind me as well.
>Time for some well-deserved me-time.
>I once more tried to start my computer, predictably in vain, before settling back down on my couch.
>It was still too early for anything worthwhile on the TV (let's be honest, nothing was these days), so I once more grabbed Degrelle's book.
>There was still a distinct lack of motivation to actually start reading on my part, but I figured that I couldn't let Mike ruin such an essential activity for me and reluctantly dug in.
>Luckily for me, once I had actually started to read, I found my interest returning, and when I found my concentration wavering due to tiredness, a look on my watch revealed that I had spent the better part of two hours reading.
>My six pack was two-thirds gone, but I would be damned if I would go to bed that early.
>I turned on the TV and put the book aside, and busied myself with flicking through the channels.
>I finally settled on some kind of documentary about crocodile hunters in Brazil.
>I hadn't even known that Brazil had crocodiles, and my tired brain pondered this odd detail until I fell asleep.
>The next morning, I was awoken by one of our neighbours mowing the lawn below the window.
>Cursing and groaning, I got up and threw a look into the mirror on my wardrobe.
>I looked as if I smelled like someone who fell asleep on the couch after drinking, my hair ruffled wildly and stains of spit on my shirt.
>The tangy taste in my mouth did its own part in making me head to the bathroom, were I stepped into the shower with my toothbrush still in my mouth.
>When the cold water hit me, I almost bit through the handle, but atleast I was wide awake now.
>Cleaning myself inside and out like that returned a feeling of freshness.
>Next on my list was the kitchen, to make me some breakfast to fill my groaning stomach with.
>As I passed Mike's door, I casually noticed that his music was playing again.
>The book really had to be something to get ol' Lazy Mike to get up this early in the morning to read it.
>At least it had been an interesting waste of money.
>I resolved myself to point that out to Mike once he noticed that he was missing money he needed for his next doubtlessly stupid endeavour.
>I was just turning towards the coffee machine to grab the can, still grinning to myself, when Mike's door flew open and he stepped out.
>He looked even worse than I had when I woke up, skin pale and bags under his eyes.
"Didn't think you would still be awake, Rob," he said, eyes staring straight past me.
"You set up some coffee? Nice, I'll just grab a cup and be on my way."
>I stared at him like one might at a rare animal or perhaps a retard playing in traffic as he stumbled over to the kitchen counter to pour himself a cup.
"Dude, have you been up all night? You look like a walking corpse."
>Mike turned towards me, still pouring himself a cup, but eyes now fixed on me.
"What do you mean, all night?"
"Have you taken a look around? The lamps are out, but there's still light not only in here, but outside as well. What might that tell us?"
>Still staring at me, Mike stopped pouring just when his cup was filled.
>Uncanny.
"I didn't even notice the time," he mumbled as he headed back towards his door.
"Are you sure you are ok? Perhaps stop reading for a while and get some sleep."
>I walked with him towards his door, just in case he would slump over on the way.
>Yeah, maybe I'll do that," he replied without any real conviction.
>The music that was still blaring from his room, now something that sounded like melodic metal, would make sleeping difficult in any case.
>To my surprise, the music had stopped by the time I was back on my place in the kitchen.

>I remained seated in the kitchen, alternating stares at Mike's door and out of the window, sipping coffee and wondering just what in that book had driven him to stay up all night.
>Of course Mike had pulled other weird shit in the past, like that time he chainsmoked for a week only to stop just as abruptly as he started, but this was a new flavor of madness.
>While he caught up on his sleep, I decided to get productive at last and headed out to buy a new hard drive.
>The yard in front of the train station was still free of the rabble that usually hung out there, and the whole town seemed as if caught in a perpetual light fog.
>Goddamn autumn weather.
>The few people I passed were similarily to me huddled up in thick coats or jackets, shoulders raised to protect their necks from the cold, moving at a quick pace to get out of the cold.
>At least the clerks in the electronícs store were still friendly enough, and I left with the feeling that I had gotten a good deal.
>On the way home I bought another sixpack.
>I had the feeling that I would need it once Mike actually got out of his stupor and told me what kept him up.
>He would probably tell me that he had spent all night crossreferencing things he found in the book, becoming more and more desperate when he found that things didn't match up, until he finally realized that he had wasted his money on a glorified movie prop in the morning.
>I nodded to myself as I opened our door, satisfied with my vision of what had kept him up and what would follow.
>Of course I would never let him live it down, at least not in the near future, but I also knew how Mike could be when he was disappointed.
>He would probably be angry, try to return the book (an effort sure to fail), and finally throw it into one of his shelves where it would collect dust until one day he would be seized by a bad case of nostalgia and pull it out again, if only to laugh at his own stupidity.
>To help him over the anger phase, my Radler would come in handy.
>The last thing I wanted was an evening with a frustrated Mike who shouted out his anger for hours.
>To my surprise, when I stepped into the hallway, there was no shouting.

>In fact, a quick look behind Mike's door once I was done drinking my coffee revealed a dark room wih my friend finally snoring in his bed.
>Well, better now than never.
>While Mike tried to catch up on his sleep, I busied myself fixing my computer.
>By the time I was done replacing the malfunctioning hardware and setting up the new harddrive, I had worked up quite a thirst and decided to go grab something to drink.
>Mike opened his door only a few seconds after me and stepped into the hallway as well.
>He looked as if the few hours of sleep had done him some good.
>His skin looked healthier, and he had taken the time to fix his hair and change his clothes.
>But most importantly, his formerly nearly blank eyes were filled with life and awareness again.
"Back among the living I see," I remarked, and Mike once again gave me the finger while grinning his typical boyish smile.
"As if you never bumbled around all night doing whatever. So, what have you been up to all day? Anything interesting happening?"
"Oh, trying that old trick again? Nice try, but you don't get to spend all night reading that book and then pretend as if nothing happened."
>Truth be told, Mike's cheery attitude had intrigued me.
>He was in a far too good mood for the book to have been a waste of money, and so I used the promise of something to drink to get him into the living room, were we sat down on our couch.
"Radler? You know that I prefer real beer over this piss."
"Might be, but I bought it for me first and foremost. Also, for someone who prefers real beer, you got awfully wasted on this shit at Stefan's birthday party."
"Yeah, and maybe I don't like it anymore because I spent the better part of the next day with the mother of all headaches."
>Despite all his bitching, Mike emptied half the bottle in one gulp, before reclining on the couch.
"So you are suddenly interested in the supernatural again? How come?"
"I am not interested in the supernatural. I just want to know what kept you up, and why you haven't torn up my eardrums yet like you usually do when you are mad. Does the book actually have some worth to it?"
>Mike closed his eyes for a second before opening them again with a resigned sigh.
"You could say that. I don't even know why I am telling you this, knowing that you won't believe me, but here it is: The book is the real thing."
>The look he fixed me with was exspectant, gauging my reaction, but I sensed a barely contained excitement behind it.
>It was clear that despite his pretense of annoyance, he just wanted me to give him permission to start rambling.
"What do you mean, the real thing? A rare collector's item?"
"No, an actual rare translated and annotated version of an ancient Sumerian spellbook."
"Mike," I groaned, "I think you are right, I don't know why you are telling me this either. Couldn't you just have made something up? You know, something more believable?"
>My friend emptied his bottle in another gulp, then jumped up from the couch.
"I will prove it to you!"
>He didn't sound upset at my reaction at all, more like a giddy kid who wants to show a parent a new toy.
>With him all but sprinting the few metres to his room to get the book, I trotted after him, making it a point to appear as bored as possible.
"You mean like the time you demonstrated the lesser key of Salomon to me and the lights went out for a minute? You know that that was a coincidence and so do I."
>Of course, it had been spooky when it happened, the two of us sitting in our dark living room one winter evening last year, until our neighbour had rang our doorbell to apologize for blowing a fuse.
>With that, the case had been closed for me, but Mike had still sworn to feel an entity at night for the next week.
>I had never felt anything off after the whole affair, but on the other hand I've always been more of a night person.
>I was still leaning on the wall in the hallway, recounting all the times Mike's attempt to prove magic to me had failed when he stormed past me back into the living room and threw the mountain of magazines off of our small table to make place for his book.
"What are you still standing back there for? Swing your ass over here," he ordered while frantically flipping through the pages.
>Taking a swig from my bottle, I returned to the living room as well.
"So, how do you want to impress me today? Knock out electricity again? Make our wallpaper catch fire? Have our potted plants wither? You know, all those things that happened here over the years, just more, you know, magically?"
"How about you shut up for a second?"
>Mike was leaning over the book, mumbling words under his breath that I couldn't quite make out.
>Then, he turned back towards me with his typical smug grin.
"I will tell you what you did today while I was sleeping."
"Oh, I am impressed. You know, you don't need to tell me, I already know what I did today. The whole week, even."
>Ignoring my snark, Mike started reading from the book again, at times closing his eyes and turning his head, as if listening to voices only he could hear.
>I had to admit, It was a pretty good show.
"Oh man, what boring two day. Woken up at 09:30 by a lawnmower, after breakfast a short shopping trip, and then you spent the rest of the day fixing your computer until just a while ago. Don't you have anything more interesting to do?"
>I have to admit, the hair on the back of my neck stood up listening to him, but I still held on to rationality.
"That proves nothing," I said, to him just as much as to reassure myself, "you probably heard the lawnmower as well before you came into the kitchen. And if you saw the packaging of my new harddrive in the trash, you could have easily deduced the rest of my day."'
"But how would I know that the junkies in front of the trainstation are gone?"
>Mike looked positively triumphant, while I repressed a shudder.
"Okay, Mike I admit it, you are pretty convincing. But who's to say you didn't go out while I was shopping and went back to bed later? You could have easily seen it for yourself."
"Alright Rob, if you want to keep moving the goalposts, how about you tell me what I can do to prove this books authenticity to you?"
>Mike sounded annoyed by now, and his grin had vanished as well.
"Well, I am pretty hungry right now, and we don't exactly have a lot here right now. Any "spell" in that book of yours that can fill an empty stomach?"
"Actually, yes, I think there was something to that effect. Let me check..."
>Mike flipped through the book again while I pondered what to exspect.
>Yes, it had been uncanny how he knew my day up to the detail of the missing junkies, but there was nothing that couldn't be explained rationally.
"Done."
>Mike had closed the book and reclined on the couch.
"What do you mean, done? I am still hungry."
"Just relax and wait for a while."
>I laid back as well, feeling better already.
>Yeah, I was still hungry, but at least no food at materialized out of thin air or anything.
>How could it?
>Magic wasn't real after all.
>Still, Mike had gotten me good with his "seeing spell", I had to give him that.
Ding-Dong
>The sound of the doorbell stopped my thoughts dead in their tracks.
"Rob, would you kindly do the honors?"
>Mike's shit-eating grin had returned in force, and I am not too proud to admit that I felt more than a bit uneasy on the way to the door.
>Who knew what kind of creature lurked in front of our home, summoned and now waiting to be let in?
>My hand twitched as I slowly opened the door.
"Red China delivery service," the skinny Asian man in front of our door said as I swung it open.
>Feeling an enourmous sense of relief, I told him that we hadn't ordered anything.
"I know, and I am terribly sorry to bother you, but one of your neighbours has. However, none of them are home and noone answers their phone. Still, we received a digital payment, so it wouldn't feel right to just throw the food out. I guess what I wanted to ask is, do you want it?"
>As if under hypnosis, I took the packages wrapped in a plastic bag from the man, who once again apologised for the awkward situation and expressed his hope that I would consider the Red China next time I ordered food.
>Once I had closed the door, I marched into the living room and dumped the food on the couch next to the still grinning Mike who asked me whether the summoned demon had been as terrible as I exspected.
>I hushed him with a raised finger and pulled out my phone, ignoring the delicious smell emanating from the bag.
>Now, I couldn't tell what I exspected to find, but my relief when google told me that our city had indeed an Asian delivery service called Red China was palpable.
>Still not entirely calmed down, but with a slowly returning sense of normalcy, my mind already trying to come up with ways other than magic to explain what had happened, I pulled one of the aluminum packages from the deliveryman's bag.
>And froze.
>The adress scrawled on the outside of the box, complete with telefone number in case the deliveryman had to call the customer, belonged to Mr. Meyer, resident of flat 3.
>Mr Meyer had been dead for four months.