Colonel....Winkee....Whatever...

I heard more bellowing upstairs, but I refrained from poking more holes in my ceiling. In truth I more feared what kind of wildlife would fall from the holes in the ceiling as opposed to what the mad scientist would think about me.

Okay. That's not true. I didn't want him to dislike me. He seemed the only decent person here, even if he came in zombie form with his mumbled hellos to me. At least he hadn't groped me shouting "BRAINS!" (Yeah, you laugh, it happens to me at least once a week.)

I looked at the clock in the kitchen and sighed. I couldn't linger any longer if I wanted to. I do need to pay for this dump, even if it isn't the Ritz-Carlton. Tugging my watch into place I dig in my cupboard until I find what I need. It's way in the back, but it's clean. Lining the small basket with cloth napkins I fill it with muffins that I had made for my breakfast and subsequent other meals. I cover it with another cloth napkin.  After scribbling a note saying "Sorry about the thumping, practicing my ceiling tap dancing. From: Under-Woman" and tucking it into the basket I leave my apartment.

I hike up the flight of stairs which is directly across from his and my rooms and set the basket outside the door. I knock very sharply and loudly, then like a little kid I bolt to the stairwell and tug the door closed behind me and make my way down the stairs and out to my car.

I owe, I owe...off to work I go... and it's worse than being a slave to seven little men.