Maybe: THE BOGEY MAN

My last bite of corn muffin and last sip of almost cold black coffee worked out perfectly today. I leaned back in my comfortable office chair and felt myself falling. The chair crashed into the safety glass window without cracking it. However, I cracked my hip against my desk, fell to my knees and howled like a banshee. Up-ended, the loosened ball bearing in the wheel was clearly visible. Question marks exploded in my head. ‘Ms. Nancy, please come in. I need assistance.’ Dressed neatly in a tweed retro suit, small copper ear rings dangled silently. Her medium high heels were silent on the carpet. As usual, she carried her secretary’s notebook and had a black ink Paper-Mate pen ready for work. At first she didn’t notice my lopsided broken chair but when she did, she let out a huge gasp. ‘All I want you to do is call maintenance to come get this broken heap and bring my other chair that is in the meeting room PDQ.’ ‘How did that happen, Mr. Hancock?’ she asked. I shrugged my shoulders and put a quizzical look on my face.

 

The maintenance man arrived quickly, pushing a dolly, lifted my heavy chair as if it were a balloon, took it away and was back with my black chair in a few minutes. I limped to the black one, tested it to be sure somebody hadn’t fiddled with this one too, and okayed it to go behind my desk.

 

All thru my busy morning I kept thinking about that loose ball bearing. How could it have dislodged itself with no squeaking warning? Could the charwoman have knocked her heavy bucket against it? Not likely. Why do I care? What’s the big deal? Fixing it will give maintenance something to do for ten minutes. My phone rang and rang too often. The fall worried me. ‘Ms. Nancy, I’m going out for lunch. I’ll walk over to Buffy’s Bar and should be back by one.’

 

Darn, another annoyance. I missed the elevator. It was a long two minutes until the next one came. A short, fat man wearing black trousers that were at least a full size too small got on with me. His light grey knit shirt was not tucked into his pants and made him look even fatter. At floor ten I felt a slight quiver in the elevator, decided quickly to get off at nine for safety’s sake. The short man did too, plus a lady I’ve seen before. Silently we got on the next elevator and stayed silent to the ground floor.

 

Sunlight dazzled my eyes. Gas fumes filled my lungs. My hip was hurting more with each step I took. My walk to Buffy’s took longer than usual but I made it and so did the short, fat man who was on both elevators with me. He had added overly large sunglasses that hid his squinty eyes.
I was taken to a small table near a post that suited me fine. Two tables behind on the right sat Otis the elevator man. There was no reason I could bring to mind why I should worry about him but I did. I dropped my napkin so I could turn and see him. Yes, he was watching me.

 

My crab cake order came and had to go back. I had ordered them broiled and they were deep fried. I turned to see the waitress coming and look again at my tail. Definitely he was watching me. My crab cakes came broiled and I was given a free cold Shlitz to make up for the error. I had to get back to the office and needed extra time as walking had become very painful. Checking and double checking, I breathed easier. The fat man was gone.

 

Just as I got on the elevator, had my finger ready to punch 19, the fat man squeezed on, was almost hit by the closing door. He had somehow changed clothes. Now he had on a tan suit with a white shirt and brown tie. The suit fit better than the too small black pants. He also wore tinted eye glasses. We did not acknowledge each other. I hit floor 18 and got off before my floor. Mr. Short Stuff got off too and walked behind me to the end of the hall. I was trapped. I tried to turn the knob on the last door but found it locked. With no warning, I spun around, yelled ‘Ouch’ as I did so, and asked in a gruff and stern manner, ‘Why are you following me? Mister?’ The stranger started to laugh. ‘Why are you trying my door? Can’t you see the sign ‘Closed Until 1:30?

This is my office.’ He put his hand out to me and introduced himself. ‘I am Dr. Swanson and have been in this office for 2 years. My secretary is inside to answer calls when I go out. Mr. Hancock. If you thought I was watching you it was because I am an orthopedic surgeon and noticed your limp. It was worse leaving Buffy’s than when you walked there in front of me. Here’s free advice. You should have your hip x-rayed as soon as possible.’

 

My luck had changed. ‘Dr. Swanson, any chance of you x-raying it for me? I’m already late and Ms. Nancy must be worried.  She’s my personal secretary. ‘ ’Well, it is unusual but I think I can manage to take care of you now. Give my receptionist your medical history and your insurance cards.’ I followed him in, followed his instructions and had no more worries about weird things and people.

 

For the next full day my worries were more important. Will I need a cast, surgery? The day after that I didn’t have to worry about that either. My large bruise and soreness would disappear in a few days. I was very pleased.

 

All I had left to ponder about was what else is going to happen to me tomorrow? I know for sure something will.