Maurice Needs a Vacation

The knock at the front door came in four evenly spaced out, but equally distinct, thumps.

“No,” said Maurice from the kitchen table. He spooned another bite of Captain Crunch into his mouth and chewed loudly.

It was Maurice’s first day of vacation in, what, seven months? Eight months? He could barely remember. He was short staffed, overloaded, burned out, and he finally took a week off to do absolutely nothing. He was not going to answer the door. He was not going to be bothered by another human being for an entire week.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

“Absolutely not,” he said and picked up his bowl, tipping the buttery left-over his of cereal milk into his mouth to drink.

He tightened his robe around his waist and peeked out the window. There was no one at the door. He pulled the curtains closed.

“Good riddance,” he said.

Maurice picked up his coffee mug and refilled the steaming brew to the rim. He took it to the sofa and reclined, picking up his copy of Amos Glade’s newest book and settled in to read.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

“Go away,” Maurice whispered and turned the page of his book.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

“This is the one week I get to be by myself,” Maurice said and tucked a bookmark into his book and set it on the side table. He scowled at the front door and made his way down the stairs into the basement where he would not be able to hear the door even if someone was knocking.

Maurice relaxed in his recliner and turned the television on. He would turn on his favorite home renovation show and close his eyes to relax. Maybe he would take a little morning nap.

He punched the buttons on the remote and the television turned on, “coming up on Project Pteetneet…”

Maurice turned the volume low and closed his eyes. Before long he found himself begin to drift off and then –

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Maurice’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t have heard the door, he can never hear knocking on the door from the basement.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

It was coming from the television. The picture on the screen was a closeup still shot of the inside of his own front door.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Maurice turned the television off. He would not be bothered on his vacation time.

He got up from the recliner and made his way to the bathroom. He turned the water on the tub, added peach-scented bath salts, and, once the water was at the right level, he disrobed and lowered himself into the steaming water.

He barely laid his head back when he heard:

Knock, knock, knock, knock from the bathroom door.

“I’m not going to answer. You can keep knocking all you want, but I have been extremely busy and all I wanted for my vacation was to be alone. I have everything I need for a people-free week. I plan on reading, taking baths, watching junk television, and ultimately not doing a gods-damned thing for seven straight days. Please kindly leave me alone whoever you are. Leave me to my peace.”

Knock, knock, knock, knock from the closet door.

“Leave me to my peace!”

Knock, knock, knock, knock from the frosted window.

“LEAVE ME TO MY PEACE!”

Knock, knock, knock, knock from the walls.

Knock, knock, knock, knock from the ceiling.

Knock, knock, knock, knock from the pipes.

Maurice jumped from the tub splashing water throughout the slick tile floor and pulled his robe over his soaking wet body. He made his way to the front door and opened it.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

A figure stood there in black robe, hood over its head, with scythe in hand.

“I’m looking for Maurice Nestor,” said the baritone vacancy of death’s voice.

“He’s on vacation, come back in a week,” said Maurice.

“Mr. Nestor, when I come knocking…”

“I don’t think you understand how badly I need this vacation. Do not make me repeat myself. I AM ON VACATION, COME BACK IN A WEEK,” Maurice slammed the door.

Maurice tossed his robe to the side and made his way back to his waiting bath. He lowered himself into the still steaming water. He hesitated for a moment, listening for any more knocks at the door, and then let out a sigh of relaxation.