The Little Ping Thing

There’s a ping inside the wall. In the hallway, right outside my bedroom that’s my fortress, there’s a ping that keeps going off when you least expect it. It sounds like if you took one of those little plastic toy wands with the little plastic balltip on the end, like that kids use to go DING DING on their little toy xylophone, only it doesn’t go ding, it makes more of a metallic ping sound, or a TING, once every few hours or so, I don’t know. SOMEthing’s going on in there, sure, but it’s just kind of muffled through the wallboard in there. I don’t frickin' know. I don’t build houses. Sometimes if you’re just sitting here, or else if you’re walking by, then sometimes it goes off, it does the little ping thing and that’s all. Dad says there’s no air duct or heater duct in there, they wouldn’t be in that wall, nothing in there, so yeah, it’s just a little creepy, I don’t know. Who cares? Old houses do that kind of stuff. 

But just don’t let it happen if Mom’s right there. Don’t be caught dead out there if it happens then, not if she’s standing right there or else walking back in from the garage; no, don’t do it. It puts her into instant checking mode if she has an audience. 

There’s demons in there, demons are in that wall. She SWEARS it.

I know I always made a mistake if I leave my door open, and if Mom’s doing laundry, the garage door is next to my bedroom door, so if she goes in and out, she's looking, listening, waiting. For the PING. And if she gets her way and that thing goes off and does its little ping thing, then it’s a gateway to the paranormal. And I left my bedroom door open, what have I done??--and the demons she always hears in the wall that’re in her head can get right in here, they can come right into my bedroom, and shit! Shit! SHIT! I forgot again, I forgot to close my doo, with her just standing there with the plastic white laundry basket wedged to her hip at her side, and she wants a response--she's just ITCHING for it--she wants me to say something, to talk about demons, and the only thing missing is how come she hasn’t said that THAT's where the socks disappear sometimes. The one missing sock that just always happens, even in normal houses with normal moms. Even they have it happen. The one missing sock, always. This demon thing is THAT widespread, if only people would LISTEN.

I’m still waiting for that one. It’ll happen about the socks. Please, God, don’t let her think of it.

. . .

There it went and I just left it OPEN. The PING. I just wanted to rest, and I forgot.

And where did she come from? She wasn’t even there, but now she is.

"Oh, this curs-ed house. This curs-ed house." This curs-ed this or that. Whatever. There’s always a curs-ed something, and she’s just the person to find it, she can find the source.

I'm lying here on my waterbed. Can't I just rest?

I should’ve closed the door. Why do I do that? What’s wrong with me??

A voice says, “All you ever do is complain.” And that's MY voice. It just happened.

It came out, and I did it again. I took the bait, and here we go, I left the gate open and here they all come, here they come with her.

“There’s a demon in this house. Right in that wall there. Didn’t you HEAR that?”

“No,” I say. I’m playing right into her hands, but who cares? “Only crazy people hear things.”

“Dave, what’re you talking about?” She always says my name when it's time for more emotion, when she wants a fill-up from me. Next up is the Look of Shock and Concern. She advances a few steps when it’s Look of Shock and Concern time. Two or three concerned steps forward, just to see if you're okay. Always.

“Dave, are you crazy?? What’s the matter with you?”

“Why do you have to know everything, Mom? Why do you have to see and hear shit?” I’m falling for it. She’s got me right where she wants, my emotions are just sitting there, because I left the gate open.

“I never said that!" And it's the Look of Shock. It's all me; she never did anything. She's innocence drifting. "When did I ever say THAT?!?” she says.

Sucked in and throwing gas on the fire, just the way she likes. I'm her stupid kid today, I'm her source, because I left the gate open.

“I’m talking about you being NostraMOMus all the time!!" Finally I let it out, I let out, I let it all out. "How come you can see through frigging walls?! How come you’re the ONLY ONE that knows what does that SOUND, and how come it’s gotta be FRIGGING DEMONS all the time?!? Why DEMONS?!?--of all things?!?!”

Sitting up and seething, breathing harder, chest pulsing. “Get out!!”

You asshole. You just gave it to her. You even made her laugh that time. She loves her new title you gave her. You meant to cut her down, but you gave a badge of honor. Now she can go fold the laundry. She can do it in peace and happiness now.

Her life is full of wonderfulness and bliss all of a sudden; and you’re left sitting here pissed. Way to go, Dave. Way to go. She’s five thousand emotions ahead of you, and those are the ones she got from you last time.

I’d close my door, but what’s the point?

I already did it. I left the gate open.

All I wanted was some rest, but I went and did it again.