(CAUTION! Literary Speedbump Ahead.
Reading may induce cognitive thought.)
It was late, very late at Ladascus’ finest hotel, the Muitipsoh. The lobby was a dim, cavernous chamber upon this hour dreary. Two clerks, Raymond and Lenore, toiled, weak and weary, auditing the day’s receipts. The lamplight beside them was streaming, throwing their ghostly shadows on the tile floor.
The sound of gentle ticking, ticking through the chamber hall, came from seconds being counted, counted on the oversized ornamental clock on the wall. Chimes broke the dismal silence of the night. Startled at the stillness broken, the two clerks peered at the oversized ornamental clock on the wall. The clock’s chimes kept repeating, breaking the silence of the chamber hall once more.
The silence was again broken, broken by the ringing, the ringing of the switchboard phone. They stood there wondering, fearing, the flashing room number appearing, appearing on the switchboard phone. Instantly they recognized the room and the guest calling, calling on the switchboard phone. The two clerks stood, desolate and daunted, as their tortured souls were burning. Twice the silence was broken by the ringing, the ringing of the switchboard phone.
A third ring beguiling, echoing off the chamber walls, beckoned Raymond to respond to the call. Filled with fantastic terrors never felt before, he reached for the receiver of the switchboard phone. Lenore’s calm, secure decorum grew visibly flustered, flustered by the ringing, by the ringing of the switchboard phone. And she whispered. “Only a phone call, this it is, and nothing more.”
On the fourth ring, Raymond’s soul grew stronger. Hesitating no longer, he picked up the phone. “Front desk?” he spoke aptly. “Um hum? I’ll have someone there shortly.” Raymond replaced the receiver of the switchboard phone and informed Lenore, “That was the Earthling. He would like someone to show him how to use the toilet.”
Lenore, sorrow-laden, retrieved a bill from her waistcoat pocket. Holding it in her hand, she stayed her wagered debt. Her eyes had all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, “Double or nothing on the Obsidian in suite sixteen?” she did implore.
Plucking the bill from the tempter’s fingers, quoth Raymond, “Nevermore.”