Drip. Drip. Drip

Rasgus peered from his hotel window on the fourth floor of the Marriott Marquis to see what kind of view he would have. It was News Year's Eve and it had been snowing most of the day. The weatherman predicted the wind chill at Times Square would be close to ten below by midnight. He opened his balcony door and ventured out to get a better look. A cold gust of wind sent him scurrying back inside. From the look of the masses of people who filled every street, avenue, and every inch of sidewalk he could see below, the weather had not dampened their desire to make merry whatsoever. Outside, the night teemed with raucous laughter, horns blaring, and the racket from every noisemaker imaginable.

From his vantage point, most of the people appeared to be sharing the joy of the season with someone as midnight drew closer. Unfortunately, he had the misfortune to be alone on this auspicious night in an intimidating metropolis, but as a consolation, he planned to make the most of it by watching the ball fall, not on TV, but first hand from his balcony. For the past six years, Rasgus had been with his family for the countdown, but as luck would have it, his firm had planned a special presentation on New Year's Day, and he was the guest speaker.

After having four Bombay Sapphires at the bar and finding no one interesting to talk with after dinner, he retired to the hotel room to watch the preliminary broadcast on TV. After returning to the room, he discovered he had misjudged the time and it would be another hour before Dick Clark would start his annual telecast. Kicking off his shoes, he lay on the bed to gather his thoughts for the speech in the morning. Unfortunately, the incessant buzzing of the crowd accumulating in the streets made it difficult to concentrate.

Despite the hubbub outside, Rasgus began to detect the monotonous sound of water dripping in the bathroom. Since repetitious sounds like water dripping or a clock ticking made it impossible for him to relax or go to sleep, he went to the shower and placed a towel on the floor to catch the drops from the showerhead that kept dripping no matter how tight he turned the handle. This worked for a few minutes, and then he could hear the drops of water hitting the wet towel. It was a different sound, but still impossible to ignore. He called the desk and asked for another room, but since all the rooms had been rented for this special night, the clerk said she would send a repairman to fix the problem.

After waiting for service for a half an hour, he decided to leave the hotel and take a brisk walk. Even with the heavy overcoat, two scarves, and a hat, the cold chilled him to the bone. To make matters worse, so many people waited for the countdown, it was impossible to walk on the sidewalk or the street. He tried a few more bars, but every one of them was standing room only. Returning to the street outside the Marquis, he pulled his coat around his head as the wind whipped about his face mercilessly.

At midnight, still standing on the corner next to his hotel, Rasgus saw the ball fall and the crowd roared as the New Year came in with a flurry of snow that blanketed the air with white magic. Couples in the crowd locked themselves in a long embrace, welcoming the New Year in with a kiss. Fireworks exploded in the sky for about a half an hour. Whistles, bells, horns and uproarious cheering contributed to the celebration.

As he circled the block, he saw a group of police cars and flashing red lights surrounding a nearby alley. From the different voices from people in the street, he discerned someone who had gone into the alley to take a pee had found a dead body. He heard a policeman say the severed head of the victim was missing. The tone of their remarks sounded surprisingly matter of fact. One officer asked the other if he wanted to join him for a coffee and a donut to escape the cold. He saw them leave the scene when the ambulance pulled up. He surmised a missing head or two on New Years Eve in New York City might only be a couple of lines on the back page of the morning paper. A gruesome crime like that would cover the whole front page in Satsuma.

He decided this was too much excitement for one evening, and feeling vulnerable from being alone with so many people bustling by, Rasgus returned to the hotel and to his room on the fourth floor. Before turning in, he sat in a chair at the window, lit a cigarette, and peered into the darkness below. He could see portions of a fire escape outside along the brick wall adjoining his small balcony. The proximity to his room didn't worry him since a ladder would be needed to access it from the street. He saw police cars scurrying about for another half hour before the flashing lights stopped and things returned to normal. He felt a little jumpy, but brushed his teeth and went to bed.

Sometime during the night, a sudden gust of cold air awakened him. Opening his eyes, he saw the heavy curtain in front of the balcony doors quivering in the wind. He pulled the covers around him and lay very still trying to make sense of how the sliding door came open. Had he left it that way when he went out earlier? Why hadn't he noticed it before?

Peering into the shadows, he listened for the slightest sound and thought of the headless victim the police had found not far from the hotel entrance and the fire escape next to his balcony. His pulse quickened and he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. The lights from the street filtering through the curtain cast weird shadows on the wall. After fifteen minutes of total silence and to stop his teeth from chattering, he gathered enough courage to go to the balcony doors and close them. He inspected the closets and the room, and pouring himself a glass of water and chugging it, heaved a sigh of relief and retired once again to bed.

He lay there unable to sleep for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly, came the steady drip, drip, drip from the shower stall. His nerves were totally raw as he covered his head with pillows to deaden the monotonous sound he knew would eventually drive him insane.

He reached for the phone and without turning on the light, hit the illuminated "O" for the operator. A pleasant voice came on the line.

"This is 408. I called for a repair earlier and apparently the water in my shower is still dripping." he said with an irritated tone.

"Yes, Mr. Rasgus, we sent a maintenance man to your room at 10 P.M. and he indicated the problem was resolved. Are you certain you're still having a problem with your shower?"

"Just a second." Rasgus listened in the darkness and no longer heard the dripping. "I guess I must have been mistaken. I don't hear the dripping any more. Sorry. Thanks."

Hanging up the phone, he lay there listening to the silence for another fifteen minutes.

Then the drip started again. Drip… drip… drip… the most annoying of all the repetitious sounds that had plagued him all his life. Waiting for the maintenance man was no longer an alternative if he hoped to restore his sanity and get any sleep at all. With a loud "fuck!" he leaped from bed and went to the bathroom to attempt to fix the problem. He hoped he would not find a maniac lurking behind the shower curtain.

Reaching the door, he bravely snapped on the light. "So far, so good," he thought. "No maniacs."

Rasgus pulled open the shower curtain with the bravado of Schwarzenegger or Stallone in their prime and his courage immediately dissipated as he emptied his bladder into his boxer shorts and onto the green tile floor. There before him, swimming in scarlet, the bloody head of a man stared up at him with a single eye from the floor of the shower stall. The other eye dangled from its hollow socket and blood oozed from the jagged wound around the severed neck.

In the mirror, he saw something move in the shadows beyond the open door and heard a sound no human could have made. He turned and saw a screaming madman lunging toward him with the tattered pieces of what had been a straightjacket trailing behind. A piece of shredded tongue protruded from his broken, yellow teeth as he raised a dagger to strike.

Rasgus knew at that moment the annoying drip…drip…drip of the drain and the speech he'd prepared for the morning were the least of his problems.