Doing The Right Thing

Josh MacLeod

THANKS TO DAVID CALDWELL AND STACEY STE MARIE FOR HELPING THINK UP THIS IDEA.

James Fitzgerald gulped, wiping sweat of his forehead with his dirty, mud-covered hands. He reach for the phone and breathed evenly in and out in a vain attempt to still the trembling in his hands. "Oh my god, my god, my god," he said softly over and over, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I did it , I did it, oh god, I did it."

He paused. "Now how do I hide it?"

He forced his hand to continue towards the phone again but stopped at the sight of the dirt embedded in his fingernails. "God, oh my god, my god!" He breathed but the litany seemed as much curse as invocation. "I have to phone then, see if I can . . . " His voice trailed off and the light of madness within his eyes dimmed: he now had a purpose.

James picked up the phone and touched the memory key, pressing the button he remembered.Tom showed me how to do that, he recalled and the phone nearly fell from his hands. Only the fact that it was now ringing kept him from dropping it and finding a quiet corner to hide in.

"Hello, Ontario Hydro." A vaguely bored and secretarial voice said. "How may we help you."

"My name is James and I have a problem." James paused until the voice said: "Go on, sir. It's what we're here for."

'Well, you see, I have had this problem for some time now and am finally dealing with it."

"Look, friend," the operator cut in, "If it's about the ice storm, we already fixed that."

"No, not that," James hastened to assure him. "It's just that . . ." He took a deep breath. "You have regulations for digging in the yard, right?"

"Yes, we do." The operator replied sounding puzzled.

"Well, I have to do some digging and I didn't want to hit a wire or anything."

"How considerate of you. Most people dig anyway and just hope they don't hit a line. It's nice to know there are still fine and upstanding member of the community who call us. Now, how big is this hole?"

"Uhm, it will be about . . . nine feet deep and three feet across."

"Hmm, how long do you expect to make it?" The operator asked.

"Tom was about 6'5" so . . . seven feet long should be good enough."

"Okay then. And where do you live?"

"What business of it is yours?" James asked

"Sir, I need to know where you live to tell you where it's safe to dig,"

"Oh. Uh, 1063 Parker Drive."

"Student housing?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll have to look it up on the computer then. Some of those places have really odd wiring. What are you digging the hole for anyway?" The operator asked, trying to make conversation. There was an unnaturally long pause. "Mr. Fitzgerald?" The operator heard crying. "Are you all right?"

"I -- I'm fine . . . it's just that . . ." James trailed off. "Oh. Sir, if this is what I think it is, city regulations do not allow burying pets on your own land."

"Pets?" James sounded puzzled.

"Well, I know some people love their animals but it is generally not allowed."

"It's not the cat." James paused "Tom," he said abruptly.

"Who's Tom?" the operator asked, now very curious.

"My roommate. He is always playing the music so loud. Disturbing the peace I told him. But he never listened, never heard me. I told him the music would make him go deaf."

"What does your roommate have to do with this?"

James paused, then spoke as if the operator was slightly slow. "Tom is the one I'm burying." he said simply.

"You're what?" The operator asked incredulously.

"Well, Tom and I had another fight about him not obeying the rules. One must always obey the rules, you know. But he refused to pay attention to me."

"And so you buried him?" the operator asked weakly.

"Well, of course not!" James exclaimed. "What kind of person do you think I am? This is a civilised society we live in and we must all obey the rules."

"That's very good --" The operator began

"I had to kill him first."

"Oh."

"It was rather annoying and he screamed so loud I was afraid the sound would wake the neighbours. Though how they'd awake after sleeping through his music, I'll never know. But I cleaned up the mess."

"Mess?"

"Well, of course! How d you think the landlord would react if I left the stains in the carpet?"

"I suppose he'd be shocked," the operator managed to whisper as he wrote down the number and address and gestured for someone to call the police.

"Quite right. And I began to bury him but then I realised that you people had regulations about that sort of thing. So I decided to phone you."

"Uh, that's very good of you."

"I tried to phone the landlord to tell him that I'd have the mess cleaned up but he was on the phone. So I phoned you instead." James paused. "Do you have the information for me yet?"

"Actually, our computer is not working well today, so I'm sending a work crew over to tell you where to you can dig."

"That's uncommonly kind of you. Its nice to know that my tax dollars are going to good uses." James paused, sounding puzzled. "I hear sirens."

"It must be the police, then. Keeping the streets free from crime." The operator said hurriedly.

"Oh, of course. But someone is knocking on the door."

"Then you had better answer it. I'll hold for you."

"Thank you. I have no liking for hold music myself." James laughed. "It almost makes me want to kill someone."

"Ah," the operator whispered, and slowly hung up the phone after hearing the first faint exclamation of: "What did I do wrong?"

The neighbouring operator, who had called the police, smiled dryly. "Could you use a drink?"

The operator nodded slowly, as if coming out of a dream. "He phoned because of our regulations." He said softly, wonderingly.

"Well, at least someone pays attention to them, then!" His neighbour said with a laugh.

'"Yes . . . someone." The operator laughed briefly. "Mad men. Only mad men pay attention to us, to our laws and regulations. What is this world coming to. . . ."

"I'm betting he never even took the labels off his mattress since that is a criminal offence." His neighbour said dryly, in an attempt to revive him.

"You know, I think your right." The operator got up and walked to the door.

"Where are you gong? You're shift isn't over yet."

"I need a breath of fresh air."

"Then you have to write down your name as having taken a break in the red book by the main desk."

The operator paused. "Oh?"

"Yes, its regulation."

"No, its law." The operator walked to the door, then paused and said to himself: "Farewell then, Tom. If not for those laws, you'd be alive now. . ."

"Who is Tom?" The neighbour asked but the door closed and the silence of a tomb seemed to invade the quiet room. Not even knowing why he did it, the other operator remaining got up and threw the red book in the garbage.

- Josh MacLeod (1998)