[FICTION]

[01/16/26]

Wonderful Stuff

by Corey Qureshi

Boundless milk and chocolate on his plate. Yet he’s also chugging beers. A vague guilt from this terrible mix as Delroy stares out on vagrants traveling down his avenue. The streetlights have been out for two days, which makes everyone nefarious, whether innocent or drunken. The latter is always an option because the road is lined in small neighbourhood bars. He just got back from one a bit ago.

Can drink hold innocence? There are those that brim at the idea of a drunk person being babyish, childlike. On top of this, sobriety, the new opiate, creates such an ugly self-conversation. Pointedly out with friends, yet alternative about it. Delroy drinks to temporarily drown in the general hopelessness as these others plan for health. He doesn’t want to be reminded.

A steel scraping sound outside brings things into focus. He tenses up. To do what exactly? Go out and confront it? Yell from the window, which hazards a physical confrontation anyway? He is so full from snacking, his abilities lessened by the bloat. He’d be useless in a dispute. And so only watches for vagrancy or random vandalism of the large space his mostly unoccupied building occupies. Don’t they know that public space shrinks out on these urban outskirts? That they should back off his property? Yet he doesn’t even own what he’s so defensive of. People committed to or trapped in this sub-relation to their own chambers (renters) often die empty-handed. Will Delroy die via vagrant? 

He hears laughter and a fist pounding on his door. He walks down the steps to answer the door, spontaneously selects an item-turned-weapon from what’s available in the foyer. Of course, after cautiously then fully opening the door, no one is there. And yet a steel beam sits just in front of the step. 

This beam came from Delroy’s bed frame, which had irreparably warped under his and his wife’s aggressive sex. For several weeks this beam had sat on the side of his house behind the garbage bins. It was assumed the regular garbage truck wouldn’t take it, but he was too nervous about the upholstery of his car to risk the long, jagged steel tip ripping seat fabric on the ride down to the dump. And so the idle indecision regarding this thing had brought it back to his front door as some sort of joke. He returns the beam to its position behind the bins, scans the small area for other life, shimmies back as stumblers nod past.

Upstairs on the couch, away from the windows. Though Delroy continues to cycle through prior thought processes, he’s trying to let it all go. He’s getting sucked into the show playing on the large flat screen, something about smoking meats. Dana approaches.

‘What was that about?’

‘No clue. Someone playing a prank.’

‘They really need to fix those lights! Too much mischief happening this week.’

‘Yeah, it’s sketchy enough down this way as it is.’

‘The darkness invites dumbness…’ she says, trailing off to the back room.

Delroy nods in agreement and recenters on the show, where they are now carving new, massive hunks of meat. He’s not hungry but wouldn’t necessarily object if something like that were to appear right now. His stomach feels tight at the thought. 

Another banging on the door, laughter. Down the steps again, this time stepping into sandals to go out with a flimsy umbrella as a weapon. Again, no one. This time sans leavings as well. Another sprig of laughter around the corner of the building. He darts into the foyer for keys, slams the door, locks the door handle as he chases the sound of voices growing more distant.

Around the corner stands a group of teens in dark clothes. Though intimidated, Delroy stands himself up as straight as he can and approaches.

‘Hey guys.’

‘What’s going on?’ one of them asks, muffled by a shiesty.

‘Do you know anything about people around here repeatedly messing with the houses around the corner?’

‘No… Are we supposed to?’ the kid replies.

‘You give this impression that you’re someone who likes to run around banging on doors. Think you’ll do it again?’

General stirring and annoyance. ‘Yes officer— I mean, no, we won’t, because we didn’t in the first place!’

‘Stupid dickhead!’ someone shouts from the middle of the group. Everyone starts laughing and shoving each other around. One the kids up in the front is taller than Delroy and so has no respect for the man. He spills the remains of a small bag of chips on the ground and throws the bag at Delroy’s shoes.

‘I would appreciate if you left my house alone.’ 

He becomes uncomfortably aware that he’s given away his location, as his is the only real residence in the immediate vicinity. The other buildings are bars, vague homes turned small businesses, abandoned properties.

‘No one’s messing with your house,’ another says from the throng. There’s an amused, feigned innocence aware of how obviously false it is circling as the general tone.

‘Why don’t you go home?’ suggests the original kid. 

Leery, Delroy turns and goes back to his door. There’s a torn garbage bag on the step. Exasperated, he moves it to the bin, goes around back, grabs his outdoor broom, sweeps up what had spilled out. Goes in, shuts and locks the door, turns out the lights. In the morning, the driver side window of his car will be smashed.