Mustache Man

So, 500 bucks a month and the basement’s off limits, okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” she answered. She felt bad for the old guy in dirty corduroys. He was awkward and way too thin.

The room, though, was full of hazy morning light. She fell in love immediately.

“This is great!” she said, shocked.

“Yeah,” he said. His mustache twitched as if he wanted to say “but…” Then he made a prim “look around” motion with his hand.

She didn’t need to. She started, “This is probably a stupid thing to say but….”

“Why is it so cheap?” he finished. His eyebrows sagged giving him a puppy-dog expression.

He dropped the hand holding the rental agreement, “Look, there’s stuff in the basement. It makes noise.”

Curious, she pulled the gauzy curtain through two fingers and asked, “What stuff?”

Sounding rehearsed, he answered, “Crackheads? A ghost? Who knows?” She pretended to laugh, but frowned.

She did consider walking out. She should have. But the place was cheap and gorgeous. Instead, she signed on mustache man’s skeletal back as he stood hunched over, hands on knees.

A steady “thump, thump, zhinnng…thump, thump, zhinnng…” noise awoke her night after night. It sounded like a washing machine loaded off-center. She tried ignoring it and failed.

It was louder in the hallway. A placard on the basement door read, “Private Property. Enter at Your Own Risk.” Someone added “Kids eat free” in crayon. For some reason that gave her the chills.

She tried the push handle, expecting it to be locked, but it gave. The noise was unbearable now. Reaching for the light switch she fell, breaking her neck on the way down. Shock descended, stealing her pain.

A single lamp, no shade, lit the space under the stairs. Squinting, she saw the mustache man. Full on nude, he was jumping up and down on what used to be a couch. He held an impossibly long knife in his hands.

He jumped twice. “Thump, thump”. Then, the blade crashed down, slicing the couch. “Zhinnng”. Couch stuffing stuck to his sweaty chest and thighs. He froze when he saw her, fire dancing in his eyes, blade glinting.

She stared back at him in the sudden silence, head bent at that extraordinarily wrong angle. Then he jumped off the couch with both feet like a child and shouted, “Oh goody, look what I’ve got to play with next!!”