Jon is sleeping, and I feel charming, so I whap him with a pillow and ask him to make something delicious while I wake Andrew. He nods, sleepily, and I apologize (somewhat guiltily) for whapping him. He traces little circles on his nightstand, left by a combination of a penchant for constant nighttime water and a profound dislike of coasters. He makes me feel soft and well-stirred, sometimes, like a properly made bowl of Quaker Oats.
On the way to the porch, I start a pot of coffee. Experience has taught me that most strange boys need privacy in the mornings, so I just rap on the closed door, albeit for quite a while, and carry on with pre-food morning busy work.
I straighten out the stupid carpet and boil some water for my tea, and also for pipe defrosting. It's a little early in the season, but they were rattly last night and I have no plans for flooding this winter.
Jon raises himself, a la Lazarus, and shuffles around the kitchen with a charming bemusement. I pretend to be sexy and throat, "Waffles" in his ear. He considers the thought (the throat?) and then pulls down flour and eggs, et cetera. I rap on the door again on my way back upstairs to pull on clothes, but no answer from Andrew, He clearly has the flair for repose of a sleeping sickness victim, so I snatch up my smelling salts as due punishment.
The house begins to smell of vanilla, and syrup. I love Jon a lot, sometimes, but especially when he makes waffles. He is, really, just a terrific man all-around.
I take a while deciding what to wear, and then vote for a rather dirty pair of men's suit pants and a green t-shirt. Simple, but effective (effective for what? My word choices surprise me more than anyone else, sometimes). Finally, I stomp down the stairs and put my ear to Andrew's new room. Not a sound. I roll my eyes, and snatch Jon by the shoulders so he can bust in first, should he be naked. Not that I imagine Jon would be particularly thrilled to see Andrew in the nude, but at least he won't be seeing anything titillating, or embarrass himself by blushing. The door creaks open, and Jon is just standing there in the doorway. Maybe he is naked, after all. I try to push past Jon to see what's so important, but he's like a tree trunk. Until he starts to scream. I manage to get a view, but then I just can't control myself. I fall over my feet in a rush to get away from the porch.
Andrew is there, but what I see hardly qualifies as Andrew. He's been flayed. His eyes are red with blood, the red dripping from them like tears, like ghastly tears. There's not much of the rest of his face left. The nose, in particular, seems ravaged and alien, a strange gory cavity in the middle of his face. But worst of all, his hair is gone. His beautiful long black hair seems to not be attached, anymore. The word is "scalped", I believe, and the terrible joke cuts me to the marrow. I decide to stop breathing.