Nicolai looked at his watch, but it was not on his wrist. Oh yes, he remembered, lost it or got rid of it but where he could not recall. In its place, wrapped around his left wrist, was a thin white identification tag from the hospital. Written upon it in typed black letters was “Nikoli Vicoff”. They spelled it wrong, he thought, or do I? It was a slight inconsistency which had been pointed out to him once (just), but he was never quite sure. In any case, he removed it not wishing to be reminded presently of who he was or worse, who he ought to be.
He thought of taking another nap, for there was no telling when again he might have access to such leisure and relative piece of mind, but just then a guard (different, sterner, safer) came to his cell. “Vicoff? You have a visitor.” He opened the gate and bid Nicolai follow. A sudden disturbance broke out at the other end of the cell block however and the guard abandoned him to enter the brawl. “You can’t miss it, down the end, right, the door sentry is waiting for you,” were the instructions he gave before running off. Nicolai thought it unusual at first that he was allowed to roam so freely, but then seeing most of the other cell doors hanging open, he realized that his had been locked not so much to keep him in, but others out. Regardless, he had little mind to escape, and less to explore, so he would go see his visitor (Shyster, no doubt) and then return as directed. Even if he had wished to wander, each of the cells he peered into as he passed was so unappealing (in decor certainly, primarily however in its occupant or occupants) that he actually quickened his pace. Something is wrong, he thought, but then remembered, oh yes I’m in a bloody prison is what’s wrong and continued and turned right at the end. He saw far down that hallway at the other end the sentry previously described and felt safer under watching eyesthough really the man was so far away that his eyes were not visible. Something else too drew Nicolai’s attention and caused him to stop momentarily, but it was nothing or he couldn’t really see it, just a brief sensation from a dark corner in the third cell on the right; he continued on his way.
When he reached the end, the sentry had disappeared, only the heavy steal door which marked the entrance to the visitor’s area greeted his arrival, and that solemnly. To his left there was an empty cell and to his right an open doorway marked, “Chapel”. Must have stepped away for a moment, I’ll wait. He did for a moment, but then heard something very strange, and the greatest shock of fear he’d yet felt in this awful place ran through his body and what he’d heard was a voice call out from the chapel, “Beware the timpani of men.” Good Lord, not again. He had to see, it would only take a moment and what could the man really do to him in here? It wasn’t so much that he feared any physical harm from Chong, he was more like a pest, a tick that once burrowed beneath the skin would cause intermittent pain and a frequent irritating itch, but he had to see.
He entered the chapel quietly (couldn’t see from the door, there was a quick right-left jag before the altar came into view). It was not Chong, and of course the man had not said “timpani,” but “tyranny” misheard by Nicolai’s bizarre expectations (not that they weren’t justified). The preacher who stood at the small, unadorned altar was delivering a sermon, though there was no one but Nicolai in the room. And that was Nicolai’s error, for though he had meant to visit only momentarily, being the only person in the room and having immediately caught the preacher’s attention, he was now in the awkward position of having to remain, for a little while at least. He did not sit, but remained standing, wherein lay his only hope of finding a suitable moment to leave. He took one more step into the brightly lit room (damn, if it were only a bit darker I might sneak away) and leaned against a wall. The preacher wore no ornaments which would enable one to distinguish his particular denomination, just the traditional reversed collar and a simple silver cross. The man’s most striking characteristic howeverand Nicolai had noticed this right offwas that regardless of his religious garments the man did not look the part. He lacked that peaceful, non-confrontational, accepting, unearthly glaze that usually accompanied a man of the cloth. His eyes were not bright and open either, but thin; little slits nudged way in the back of dark shadowy sockets. His teeth, when he smiledthough he didn’t smile so much as sneerwere green and partially rotted, and his cheeks were hollow and rough with a day’s beard growth. His voice though was calm and gentle and enticing (for the moment, for I’ll only stay a moment more) though it carried more than a hint of a deep New York accent. Presently, he reached the end of his sermon: “There is no shame in admitting your sins. If a man is given a cross to bear or wear, he should carry it where all can see and not in his pocket. First of all, it should be a matter of pride, because a man is defined by the challenges he has overcome, and secondly, the pocket, especially a trouser pocketthe front one, either sideis far too close to that foulest of organs, which is doubly cursed: once by the sins committed upon it, and then by its rejection, in the form of a stinky yellowish filth which is the rejection or ejection of the filth of the body. The back pocket is not so bad, but still objectionable due to the amount of fecal matter which may collect therestudies have been done. Preferable, if concealment is absolutely necessarysay in a job interviewis the breast pocket, but for obvious reasons only on a man.
“One more point please and then I shall draw the service to a close. Although a man may be imprisoned, as I have said, for his own tyranny, it is as well to regard the prison as a refuge from that other tyranny, that of all men. For only among the foulest, will the fairest be seen.” He paused and took a sip of water, but never once did his stare leave Nicolai (damn). “Allow yourselves the time you needand this is going to vary from individual to individualto come to know yourselves. You’ll notice I didn’t say to know the Lord, the Christ, because regardless of what you may have been toldand I’ll admit a uniqueness in this opinionknowledge of the Lord is not necessary. He knows you and that’s enough. There are some who claim to know the Lord, but any such earthly suggestion of that would be false, because knowledge of him presumes a knowledge of all, for they say he knows all, and a knowledge of alland I think you’re all getting the point hereincludes a knowledge of self. And that is what I charge you all with, go and know yourselvesin a nice way I mean. Amen.”
Well, thought Nicolai, that wasn’t too bad, not too long. He felt no obligation to respond with an Amen, he’d only stayed out of a courtesy, he was never a very religious minded man, but he thought, in a small way, this man’s religion was not too disagreeable. The preacher looked up again. “Let us conclude with a hymn. Sing if you wish, to the Lord’s ears every voice is beautiful, but not necessarily to mine, so don’t sing too loudly.” He began and though there was no music he kept rhythm by lightly tapping on the altar with his foot:
The Lord is a shadow that we cannot see
And the Lord is a light in the dark
But the light only lights the darkness of death
And a shadow is all that the living can be.
We sense that the light, from youth, is far off
Some search their whole life and some do not
But the shadow of the Lord covers us always
And we sense him near us and cry:
Get close to us Lord and be and remain our
savior.
Stay close and watch our missteps.
Get close to me Lord, to each one.
Anoint us, rub us, with your love.
For with the Lord as our shadow
All other darkness is light.
Very pretty, thought Nicolai, nice sentiment, or was it? He wasn’t really sure. Now I’ll be off, done my good dead for the day, poor fellow probably always preaching to an empty hall, happy as sin no doubt to have an audience. He turned to leave.
“Hello! [Oh Christ! Sorry] Hi there.” The preacher came down from the altar and right toward Nicolai. “You’re Nicholas Vicoff, aren’t you? My name is Mugsy Malone and as you’ve probably already guessed, I’m the prison chaplain.”
“Pleased
to meet you really, I’m sorry I’ve got to run but [he’d almost forgot!] I’ve got a visitor waiting.”
“I really wanted to have a talk with you. Can’t you stay just a moment? I’ve got to run out for just a second, but please wait, just one word. OK? I’ll be right back.” He left the room and Nicolai, though really pissed off that this had suddenly turned from courtesy to nuisance, had no choice but to wait. Wouldn’t hurt to keep Shyster waiting in any case, Nicolai justified, serve him right. He finally took a seat. Outside in the hallway he heard some commotion, but just as he thought to investigate, the chaplain returned. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what’s gotten into everybody today. Usually this place is full for the evening service [sure it is] tonight though...oh well.” He sat down next to Nicolai. “May I call you Nicholas?” Nicolai was in no mood to argue or prolong, unnecessarily, the conversation. “There’s nothing specific I have to say to you, but I am informed of every new prisoner who comes in here and I like to introduce myself to them as soon as possible, just to let them know there’s an open ear. Do you have anything you’d like to talk over, to get off of your chest? Even a murdererand I’m not casting perversions hereespecially a murderer can have feelings of remorse, of loss. I understand you lost someone close to you recently. An aunt wasn’t it?”
“Uncle.”
“Really, hmm, I’d heard different, but uncle it is then. Were you close to him?”
“I’d rather not say. I am sorry, but I do have a visitor waiting and I’ve already kept him waiting some time already.”
“Everything is confidential. It’s more than an edict, it’s a matter of pride with me.”
“Yes, but you see it has nothing to do with what I am afraid you might tell them. Nothing like that at all, I simply must go. Once again I’m sorry, but good-bye and it was a pleasure, Father.”
“Reverend, really.”
“All right then, and it’s Nicolai.”
“I wondered if you’d correct me.”
“Yes, well toodaloo.” Nicolai rose and edged past him.
“I know you did not kill him.”
Nicolai stopped. “You do?”
“I know that no man in his heart is a killer. A man may be made to kill from outside himself.”
Nicolai saw that conversation with this incorrigible man was inevitable and perhaps he could help. Just a bit longer. “I am guilty, you know. Oh, not of the murder, though in a way related, and of many others.”
“I understand what you are saying, but we are all guilty of these things, some in little ways, others in big. Come with me.” He rose and walked toward the altar, Nicolai strode next to him. The lights dimmed briefly, but then regained their previous brightness. Mugsy, he thought, appropriate name for a priestreverend, sorry. “Imagine, if you will, a man wandering in the country. After a time, the man comes to a door standing open. Before the door is a surly guard, a real hairy-knuckle type. The man attempts to enter, but the guard prevents him. ‘Wither,’ asks the man, ‘wither leadest this door?’ The guard laughs and answers, ‘To the bathroom.’ ‘Ah so,’ retorts the man, for he fancies himself a wit, ‘I had heardst that yonder door leadest to the law.’ ‘You heard wrong, pal. This door leads to the john and I don’t mean Adams.’ ‘Fine then, might I pass then to yonder lavatory?’ The man shrewdly played along. ‘Not at the moment,’ was the cryptic reply. ‘Me thinks thou jestest.’ The guard was angered, ‘Hey, I ain’t no fairy!’ ‘Sir Barbarous Knight, I did not intendest to imply that thou wast packing the fudge as ‘twere. I merely wishest to pass.’ ‘Say,’ inquired the guard, ‘you talk real funny. You ain’t one of them,’ he made a funny gesture with his hand, ‘is you?’ ‘I assure thou that my intentions beest the most honorable. Might I now pass, to pass as ‘twere?’ ‘Not at the moment, it’s occupied.’
The man then sat to wait and he waited many years, but always the john was occupied. At times he conversed with the guard, but always the guard made fun of the way he spoke. He tried to bribe the guard, but the guard simply took the money and purchased a six-pack which he would not share. Finally, many years later, the man sensed that he was dying from the buildup of unexpunged waste in his systemstudies have been done on this matterand he posed one final question to the guard, one that had been on his mind for some time, ‘Oh grand guard of the lavatory, Sir Surly One, wouldst thou please to tell me who hast been using the john, as thou puttest it, for these many years, for I surely think they might needest some medical attention?’ The guard knelt to him, ‘You fool, there hasn’t been just one person in there for all these years, but many, many hundreds by now.’ ‘If that then beest the truth, then surely my turn must have come long before, why have I not been admitted, knowing as thou didst my terrible need?’ ‘Because, you idiot, this is the ladies’ room. The men’s room is just around the other side.’ The man cried, ‘Why, oh why devil, has thou not told me so before?’ ‘You didn’t ask. What am I, directory assistance?’ Do you understand how this relates to you Nicolai?” They had paced for some time up and down the aisle while the chaplain told his story.
“I think so. I am the man who has come seeking knowledge. Finding, however, that knowledge is not available I am satisfied to relieve myself of my wastes. Understandably, I wish to do this in private, but because I came in an arrogant manner the correct path was not pointed out to me.”
“Not quite. In this example, you are the guard. You are given a position of trust, a man comes to you seeking your aid, but because he is different, because he annoys you, you do not offer him the assistance he needs, but at the same time you are still properly executing the duties of your office. For this you feel a tremendous guilt, having in some way caused the death of the man even though you were just doing your job. You see, the guard was responsible for his death, in a way, but at the same time the man’s arrogance and ignorancewhich he does not recognize in himselfcaused his death. In this way you have turned away those whom only you could help, but it was their inability to express that need properly that caused you to do so. This is the moral dilemma that you face.”
“But the guard here does not seemto me at any rateto experience feelings of guilt and he does more than prevent the man’s entrance, he tortures him, he takes his money and then does not share the beer purchased with it.”
“Not exactly, many believe that not sharing the beer was actually an act of kindness, knowing how badly already the man had to go to the bathroom. And the money, you will remember, was freely offered and as a bribe, not an honorable act, one in fact which could be viewed as insulting, though out of kindness the guard ignores the insult to his office.”
“A good argument that, but again should the guard feel guilty, for was it not the man’s choice to wait? He might have sought another lavatory, he might havehowever unpleasantdefecated on the ground. There was no reason he needed that particular bathroom. The guard was merely doing his job.”
“In a way, yes, but there are several things you are overlooking here. First, you will remember that the man came initially for knowledge, in this case of the law, and he believes it to be beyond the door and the guard knows this because the man outright asks. The man is trying at first to deceive the guard by feigning a need to go to the bathroom, it is only after that the man forgets his initial purpose due to a need which has grown in him. Second, the guard partially deceives, or at least misleads, the man because he does not say ‘you can never enter’, but only ‘not at the moment’ which implies the possibility of entrance at a later date, causing the man to wait even though he really may never enter there.”
“So the guard lied and is responsible, he intentionally mislead him.”
“That is a possibility, others argue effectively however that there are appropriate times when a man may use the ladies’ room, for example if the men’s room is out of order. In that case then, the guard was being helpful by saying he would admit the man if circumstances allowed and by the nature of his statement it is prob
able that such circumstances had arisen in the past.”
“But it is not likely, for the whole time the man waits no such thing happens.”
“True, but it is possible too that maintenance on the men’s room may have been done that the guard was not aware of, hence eliminating the circumstances he was thinking of.”
“Still though, the guard is withholding information, he is not being full forthright.”
“Of that there is no doubt, and so his guilt, but in the end do remember that he is just a washroom attendant. How much are we correct in expecting of this man? This is the quandary with which you struggle, how closely should our expectations of ourselves and others approximate what is expected of us from God.”
“Presuming the existence of same of course, or at least a belief.”
“No, because regardless of my belief or yours we each have in our minds something of an ideal that will suffice. This place is for those whose morality does not coincide with society-at-large’s. It is a prison really of the soul and only at the end will we find out who was right, perhaps.”
“Then I do truly belong here, following that reasoning.”
“That is for you to decide, but at least for youif I am to understand the situation correctlythis particular prison is only a temporary stop.” The chaplain looked up suddenly toward the door. “Your visitor, we’ve totally forgotten about him. He’s been waiting for some time now.”
“Yes, I suppose I should go.” Nicolai did not.
“Good-bye.”
“Can’t you spare me some more time?”
“You’re the one who said you had to leave.”
I Thought My Uncle Was A Vampire, But He Was Just A Creep Page 25
