The Word Hole

As the cops are on their way to haul off mom and an ambulance is coming to haul dad away, and Alex is tied to the banister and Janie’s got a string of condom packages hanging out of her back pocket I can’t help thinking that Salvador Dali started all of this. Granted, I can’t blame this on the artist directly but if he wasn’t such an interesting painter, and dad didn’t like him so much, then he wouldn’t have bought Dali’s “Metamorphosis”, and the hole would have never formed. “A hole?” you ask. It’s a Word Hole, as we came to call it. I’m sorry to begin en media res like this, but you really have to see this to know where I’m coming from. Besides, I want you to know up front what opening a Word Hole can do. Let me tell you the whole story. Excuse me a moment. Janie! Button your shirt back up! The police are almost here! This isn’t going to be easy. Anyway, it was my first day back from school, summer vacation, when dad showed me his newly acquired “Metamorphosis of Narcissus”. “I just love the haunting pair of hands and the complete parallelism from bright to dark,” dad said, holding his beautifully framed print to his chest. It’s a good thing mom could appreciate Dali. She knew the kids hated that surreal style and so forced dad to confine his passions to his office and the bedroom, so to speak. You have to love “Persistence of Memory”, though, with all the melting clocks. “I’ll nail it up after dinner.” “Oh!” Mom yelped and ran to the kitchen. Dad walked back to his office as mom opened the oven, smoke escaping into the house. The fire alarm blared. “Alex! Take a towel and wave the smoke away from the alarm!” “But mooom, you’re gonna make me die!” “Do it!” He reluctantly did so. Janie cackled as she pummeled his video game character’s still body. Alex whined as he waved the smoke away and the alarm stopped. In retrospect, at least the alarm was one consistent note. Mom brought out the well-done steaks. “Sorry, Peter, I think the fat caught fire.” “Oh, here, let me take something.” “No no, just go tell your father that was the dinner bell. And Janie, put the game up. It’s time to eat.” I headed through the living room and knocked on dad’s office door under the stairs. “Dinner’s ready, dad.” “Okay, I’ll be right out. I’m just hanging this painting. I couldn’t wait.” “Ha, all right dad.” I headed back to the dining room, stepping over Janie along the way. I kicked her side lightly. “Come on, kid, food’s on. If you don’t move Alex and I’ll eat all the steak, right Alex?” “Yup yup!” he called. “Is your father – ” before she could finish the hammering started. “I can’t believe it. You’re gone ten months and on your first day back he’s in his office hanging his pictures.” She poured the three glasses of milk and two of ice water. “Oh, I understand how much he loves his Dolly,” emphasizing the pun for my siblings who giggled madly, “besides, I’ll be here for the next three months straight.” The hammering stopped and mom finished setting out the food: steak, rice, corn on the cob, and green beans. “You really should have come down for Christmas, Pete.” “Mom, you know I couldn’t afford it and neither could you guys.” “Mary, let the boy alone. It’s his first meal home,” dad said over my shoulder. Exasperated, mom sat at the table. We all smiled at her. She looked about us all and tried to hold back a smile. “Oh just sit down and let’s eat.” We all laughed and sat down and I ate my first home cooked meal since I left home. See? Things started off well, as they tend to do. Dad told me about his promotion and mom said she could finally stay home and paint because of dad’s extra money. I teased Janie about being such a beautiful young woman at fifteen years old and Alex couldn’t stop talking about his new Nintendo Gamecube. Then about halfway through a bowl of strawberry ice cream there was a crash from Dad’s office. He rushed there to find his new picture on the floor smashed and broken. All members of the house were present and accounted for so we knew it wasn’t any of us. Mom was the first to think to clean things up. Dad was beside himself but took the dustpan and brush from mom and started gathering it all up. Janie brought a trash bag. “Dad?” “Yeah, Pete?” He asked with a sigh. This is the part I wish I hadn’t noticed. “The nail came out, too.” “What?” “The picture fell but the nail also came out of the hole.” “So what?” “So, how often do you put a nail into a wall only to have it slip out? You could have nailed it nearly straight up into the wall and it still should have held.” “It’s not so uncommon that nails come out like that.” “But where is it?” I walked over to his desk and looked around. Alex followed me and moved the chair. The nail rolled off the chair when Alex moved it. “How often does a nail fly that far?” “You’re right.” He was momentarily distracted from his grief and the others noticed as well. “Dude, that’s weird,” Alex observed. Mom and Janie concurred. Dad took the nail from me and pushed it back into the hole. It stayed put and we watched it. After a few moments we stopped watching and continued cleaning up. Dad talked of getting the picture reframed and said that he didn’t like the first one to begin with. He said it was too gauche for Dali. Otherwise, things went on as I figured they would. I was caught up to speed on the social lives of my siblings and the business dealings and vacation plans of my parents. I got all the dirt on their friends: who was backed up on credit card bills, who was suing someone for an accident, who was getting divorced, etc. The next morning, dad was the last to the table for breakfast. “The nail came out again. And I think I feel air now.” All at the table gave confused groggy looks. “You know, the painting last night? It crashed and you were all impressed that Pete here noticed the nail somehow flew out?” Remembrance flashed across our faces. “Yes, well, it fell out again. I put my hand up to the hole and felt a very slight stream of air.” We were all quite curious and so proceeded from the table to the office. That was the second time that bloody hole interrupted a meal of ours. Sure enough, the nail was out of the hole and we each took turns feeling the warm stream of air coming from it. “You didn’t hit some sort of pipeline, did you, Harold?” “No, sweetheart, I didn’t hit a pipeline. No pipes have air running through them in a house.” “Well is it a part of the ventilation then, Harold?” “No, I thought of that and I know there’s no vent behind here.” “So what’s going on?” “Well I don’t know.” All this time, Alex, Janie, and myself were taking turns feeling the air. Alex of course had to stick his finger in the hole as well. “Oh Alex, that’s dirty. Don’t do that,” mom chided. He pulled back and took a little more of the wall with him. Both mom and dad were about to scold him when we all noticed that more air came out along with a very slight but noticeable whining sound. Dad put his ear up to the hole as mom said, “Well, you need to get off to school, Janie, and your dad needs to get going as well. He doesn’t have any summer vacation.” That seemed to break our curiosity and we drifted from the office. Janie finished getting ready and as she opened the door mom asked, “Do you have all your books and pens and such?” “Yes mom” “And your lunch?” “Yes mom, I gotta go.” “Okay, sweetie, have a good day.” Janie exited the house in a hurry and dad soon followed suit. That left Alex, mom, and myself. That day, the first day, was fairly uneventful. I played several video games with Alex while mom spent much of the time working on her painting. She tended to steer from Dali, as she wouldn’t contribute to what she already had to put up with, and preferred the more placid tones of Monet and Van Gough. In the early afternoon, I offered to take Alex to see Star Wars: Episode I. Mom was happy to comply. Now as I understand it, mom was the first to explore the hole alone. The important thing to note about that first time was that she was the one to discover that the whine wasn’t a constant sound but resembled Alex’s complaining, except even less discernible. Dad, never one to leave a hole in a wall no matter what was coming out of it, had to cover it. Our curiosity wasn’t peeked enough for the Word Hole to take hold. It was when the hole reappeared through dad’s plaster and paint. What’s more, the hole got bigger in blasting through the seal. “So tell me, Peter, what exactly came out of the hole?” The detective asks. “Words, detective, words. I’d show you, but then you’d likely try to kill me, or something of the like. As I was saying, mom really was interested first so I’ll tell you how it affected her. But to preface, over the next several weeks, our desire to hear more from the hole drove us to open it to the size of a soccer ball.” “To hear more, son? You’re not making sense.” “It’s not important that there’s a talking hole in our house, but what it says.” Mom was so happy to be home again and chasing her passion unabated by burdens of money and heavy family responsibility as the kids could take care of themselves within the house. She was brave enough in college to get her BA in art and fortunate enough to marry a business minded man who could support them both while she painted. The kids caused a slow down in that dream. The Hole stuck in her mind first and out of sheer curiosity she went down to the office to really study it. I was out with Alex at the time. I found out later that when she examined it that time she could just faintly discern a few words, oddly enough, from the hole. As we all found out, it spat out words that meant something to each of us, but if we were all together it got muddled. This was after the initial shock of a talking hole-in-the-wall. When the hole was about the size of a dry erase marker, it whispered things into mom’s ear about her painting. That was when it was small. She told us that it told her that it was good that she was spending more time on what she loved to do for a change. The hole was clever like that. It flattered when it was small. It said that she put off her own personal work for long enough after taking care of a house, kids, and a husband. She said this with a laugh and we all tended to agree. In the days following, we noticed that she was spending a lot more time in concentrated study of her painting, and more was being produced, from one every week to one every twelve hours or so. It also told her that we should help out with the housework so she could work more. By the second month, I had to or nothing would have gotten done. July, the second month, the hole was about the size of a softball. It got suspicious by the second month. We had all spent time picking at it and chipping away to hear more and more clearly what the hole was saying and nobody really noticed that it got bigger, not by the second month. So mom was working away diligently on her painting. Meanwhile, the rest of us were taking turns, secretly, listening to the hole. In that first month, dad got an earful of flattery from the hole as he already spent much time in his office. In the first month we had sense enough left to tell each other what the hole was saying before we became so conspiratorial. He said that it told him his new job was to be his number one priority and we all agreed, as he was then the sole breadwinner. So he spent even more time in his office listening to the hole and working diligently at his computer. In June, that first month, he tended to go to bed every night. By the second month, he didn’t. But that first month meant another raise with the promotion so we were all supportive and appreciated the hole’s encouragement. By that time we all solemnly swore to not tell a soul about the hole. Otherwise, everybody would want to listen. Trust me, they would. The kids were affected slower but in quite unfortunate ways. Alex didn’t seem to change. Nobody was really interested in what it told him, but from what I can tell and what I’ve deduced, it told him simply to play more videogames, eat more candy, and generally have a good time. I thank God he’s not older. You can see what happened to Janie clear as day. Girls her age look for love and have no idea what it is. She was always very secretive about what the hole told her. At first I think it was telling her how attractive she’d become and what a true lady she’d turned out to be, in the hole’s opinion. She held her head high those first few weeks. She was, is, very pretty, but I didn’t think she’d be the kind to flaunt it so . . . much less get to the point she’s at now. But that came in the second month. And me? I was curious like the rest, but I guess I didn’t give in quite as much. It told me that I’m a brilliant musician and should focus on that in school. I was considering that, which is how I started deducing things about the hole. It also told me that I should seriously pursue an interest I had back in school, that she would fall in love with me. I remember it specifically telling me, “imagine her long blond hair flowing about your fingers and her amazing eyes which you’ve looked into so many times filled with love and tenderness for you her love and her desire and her body as you’ve stayed from picturing close to yours and willing and” You get the idea. That’s how the voice speaks. It’s an endless string of words that flow into each other like music really. Thinking about it makes me want to open it up again. “Tell me about the second month,” the detective asks, scribing more in his notebook. “The second month saw conceit and suspicion between my parents, rage from Alex, and a bizarre turn around for Janie. I stopped listening to the hole. You must see like I do that the hole taps into your desires, delusions, and suppositions.” July, the second month, saw my parents turning in on themselves. Not only did the hole tell my mom that she was good, but that her work was profitable, as it turned out to be. I praised her, but Alex was slowly going mad and Janie and Dad weren’t really home any more. Somehow I remained the sane one. All of my desires pointed back to school. Where could I go to feed into the hole’s delusional whispering if I wasn’t anywhere near there? So I managed to stay away, especially after witnessing my family become addicts. The hole, I believe, suggested to mom that dad was jealous of her success outside of business and so was banging his pretty secretary. His secretary was an older gentleman named Jonathan. The hole told dad that while he was away, mom was doing the mailman, the UPS man, her agent, and every gallery owner. The hole was subtle, but this was what I gathered from hearing the fighting. You know what the ironic thing is? As much as they argued about who was doing whom, they didn’t notice that Janie was on the internet quite a lot lately looking for other guys her age and older in town. In the second month, the hole started telling her that if she wanted guys to love her then she would have to put her exquisite body to use. That’s what enraged me the most about the hole. Can you imagine having thirty-year-old guys showing up to your door asking to see your fifteen-year-old sister? You police didn’t hear about any of my fights because what man wants to hear he’d been beat up by a high school sophomore’s big brother? Dad’s work started slipping along with mom since they were so concerned with each other. Alex’s tantrums broke up the fighting most of the time sending mom and dad into the bedroom turned studio and office respectively. “I’m afraid to ask what happened in August. Things hadn’t gotten physical yet I can see.” “You’re right on that account, detective. Today is August 13th. If I hadn’t put in such a concentrated effort to seal the hole, I don’t know what state we’d all be in now.” August, the third month, was a sad one. Depression was my cup of coffee. Keeping my little brother from destroying the house and doing the laundry, dishes, and dinner kept me busy, though. I almost wish I would have given in and lulled myself to sleep on the Word Hole. The others became as bad as the Hole, too. Mom would yammer to me about how my father was a ridiculous workaholic finding his pleasure in fellow employees’ beds. She said the private detectives only noticed bizarre behavior but no women. She didn’t believe them and accused them of being paid off by dad, my father. Dad, when he was home, told me my own mother was a slut, wretched word, and probably painted erotica of her and various lovers. I wish I could have kept track of Janie. I pray she doesn’t have any diseases or a child. I tried to keep her in the house, but she was so anxious to get out and get used. I think at that point the hole was telling her that the sex was really positive and didn’t it feel so good? She was old enough for it to feel good, right? “Son, calm down.” “Janie! Put your shirt back on and get upstairs or so help me I’ll slap all that make up off your face in one blow!” The argument that resulted in the first scene started in the office, of course. Dad was in there working on his computer as usual. Mom marched downstairs as Alex was sitting on the kitchen floor, in his underwear, scooping out what was left of the ice cream and ice cubes. Janie was walking out the door with that package of condoms hanging out of her too tight jeans, braless, halter-top too small, wanton. I threw her back into the house and started yelling. I’d become another Hole trying to keep everyone together. “You want a piece of this, big brother? Incest is best. That’s what the Hole tells me.” I didn’t know whether to cry or vomit when she touched my chest like I imagined Valerie doing when the Hole told me about her. You imagine what the Hole tells you and it sounds so good. It’s such a clear picture in your mind that you can just taste it. I bet you could find my sister on the Internet in several sites and downloadable movies. Anyway, mom stormed into dad’s office accusing him of being a bad father and poor provider and adulterer and whatever else horrible a father and husband can be. I was busy trying to keep Janie in her room so she wouldn’t escape into malevolent hands. Alex of course had to start screaming for more food and a new game system since his sticky fingers damaged the controllers. Mom and dad were screaming at each other and the hole was feeding them both. I didn’t see it happen, but as far as I can tell, mom used some of the glass from dad’s broken “Metamorphosis” to stab him. “I heard the scream from upstairs and ran to a phone to call you all. The first thing I did after that was to stuff Alex’s old soccer ball into the Hole. It spit it back out while I tried to control Mom. Dad came back at her, but doubled over bleeding in pain. I tossed mom out of the office and into the arms of one of your men. When I realized you all had things in hand I stuffed the soccer ball back into the hole.” “So that brings us up to speed. What happens now?” “Well, I figure we’ll all spend lots of time together away from the hole and in some good counseling.” “But now, what about now? You can’t stand guarding that soccer ball forever, son. Now just give me the gun and we can work this all out downtown.” “I don’t think you believe me much less understand. If I move, the hole will open again. I think Alex wants to try to crawl inside and waste away into oblivion. This hole has to remain covered and sealed or the same thing will happen to the next family.” I think I know how the hole came about now. I did some research over the summer during the first and second month and found a way. I can’t tell you, though. The curiosity would drive you to do it then the Hole would drive you mad. I fear I’m gone, despite having so little contact with the hole. I can’t tell you how to make one, I won’t. it’s easy to do really all you have to do is tell them how to make the hole that’s all that you have to do i swear it will be of great benefit to you if you make the hole the hole is good and quite a pleasant attraction to any household and makes for a marvelous conversation piece if only you would tell them peter please tell them i know you can do it i know that valerie would love you if you would because you are a helpful sort like that and doesn’t that revolver feel so pliant in your sturdy hand peter so very comfortable and cool and doesn’t that barrel need to be looked at oh yes indeedy do it does peter it does it