He awoke in the fetal position, teeth chattering and trembling violently. Startled, he looked around he living room in confusion. Weak early morning light was coming in through the bare window.
The meeting!
Jumping off the couch, Harry eyeballed his wristwatch. If he left immediately, he might be able to make it. He bounded up he stairs and threw open the closet door, knowing exactly which shirt and tie he would be wearing for the day.
He had already reached out his hand to take the shirt off the rack when he realized that the closet was completely empty. A row of matching empty hangers hung before him, all evenly spaced out, just as he normally kept his impeccable shirts. His jaw dropped. His hand, still on the handle of the closet door, began to shake. He felt heat rising to his face for the first time in nearly a decade. With a huge burst of energy, he ripped the closet door off the tracks and let it crash down onto the dresser, shattering the glass. He found the noise very satisfying.
He turned, slightly in shock by his own actions. He noticed that the sheets, pillows, and blankets were all missing from his bed. The nude mattress was a terribly stained mess, but at least the large clumps of food had disappeared with the sheet. All of his shoes were gone. And the curtains. Stalking through the house, he realized that most of it was empty except for the large items. His couch, recliner, and flat screen were still there, but the DVR recorder was missing as well as the CDS and DVDs. The keys to his car and his cell phone were also missing.
He was not going to make it to the meeting.
Amidst the chaos that was his mind, a shocking realization struck him like a bucket of ice water: He had nothing to cover himself with. That was the twisted point of all of his things being taken. He would need to go outside at some point, and everything in the house had been removed so that he would be forced to do so in the buff. He went over every other possible option, but came up short.
He felt his face get red again as the anger welled up inside. He wanted to smash things. What cruel bastard would do this to him? And why? Was there some force out there that wanted to see him go mad? Had he been cursed with some evil spirit that stood back and laughed at the havoc he had created? Harry was surprised to find that he was crying.
He took a seat on the sofa and wrapped his arms around himself, thinking. He knew he would need to go to his neighbor’s house for help. They would probably call the cops on him. Was there really nothing that he could cover himself with? He got up and checked the upstairs again. The bastard had taken the shower curtain and the bath mats, and all the towels. He ripped the towel bar off the wall and smashed the bathroom mirror with it, which made him feel slightly better. Downstairs, he found that the laundry room has also been sacked. There was not one article of clothing in the entire house.
Finally he made it to the kitchen. He knew that it had all been leading up to this very moment, and that he had unconsciously saved this room for last. The cupboards were empty. Under the sink was empty. The bastard had taken the trash bags and dish towels. He eyed he spice rack suspiciously, but it had not changed.
He opened the refrigerator, and there on the top shelf, looking lonely and promising, was a tall can of Ready Whip whipping cream. Harry stared at it for a moment before he started laughing. It was not crazy laughter, but deep down laughter, straight from the belly. It felt wonderful, cleansing, and ridiculous all at the same time. He felt that he finally understood what it was all about. And to his utter amazement, he was appreciative. The tears streamed down his face as he let out the last remnants of all of his bottled up emotion.
Utilizing the can of whipping cream, he covered he covered is private area and even made a heart design out of it, just for fun. As he was approaching the front door to leave, he whispered a `thank you` to whatever god had blessed him with a hairless ass, and then he stepped out to greet the new day.
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