Practical Demonkeeping

must call Jenny and apologize as soon as the thirst was gone.
    First, a glass. Dirty dishes were strewn across every horizontal surface in the kitchen: the counter, stove, table, breakfast bar, and the top of the refrigerator. The oven was filled with dirty dishes.
    Nobody lives like this . He spotted a glass among the miasma. The Holy Grail. He grabbed it and filled it with beer. Mold floated on the settling foam. He threw the glass into the oven and slammed the door before an avalanche could gain momentum.
    A clean glass, perhaps. He checked the cupboard where the dishes had once been kept. A single cereal bowl stared out at him. From the bottom of the bowl Fred Flintstone congratulated him, “Good kid! You’re a clean- plater !” Robert filled the bowl and sat cross-legged on the floor amid the broken dishes while he drank.
    Fred Flintstone congratulated him three times before his thirst abated. Good old Fred. The man’s a saint. Saint Fred of Bedrock.
    “Fred, how could she do this to me? Nobody can live like this.”
    “Good kid! You’re a clean- plater !” Fred said.
    “Call Jenny,” Robert said, reminding himself. He stood and staggered through the offal toward the phone. Nausea swept over him and he bounced back through the trailer’s narrow hallway and fell into the bathroom, where he retched into the toilet until he passed out. The Breeze called it “talking to Ralph on the Big White Phone.” This one was a toll call.
    Five minutes later he came to and found the phone. It seemed a superhuman effort to hit the right buttons. Why did they have to keep moving? At last he connected and someone answered on the first ring. “Jenny, honey, I’m sorry. Can I—”
    “Thank you for calling Pizza on Wheels. We will open at eleven A.M. and deliveries begin at four P.M. Why cook when—”
    Robert hung up. He’d dialed the number written on the phone’s emergency numbers sticker instead of his home. Again he chased down the buttons and pegged them one by one. It was like shooting skeet, you had to lead them a little.
    “Hello.” Jenny sounded sleepy.
    “Honey, I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. Can I come home?”
    “Robert? What time is it?”
    He thought for a moment then guessed, “Noon?”
    “It’s five in the morning, Robert. I’ve been asleep about an hour, Robert. There were dogs barking in the neighborhood all night long, Robert. I’m not ready for this. Good-bye, Robert.”
    “But Jenny, how could you do it? You don’t even like the desert. And you know how I hate saltines.”
    “You’re drunk, Robert.”
    “Who is this guy, Jenny? What does he have that I don’t have?”
    “There is no other guy. I told you yesterday, I just can’t live with you anymore. I don’t think I love you anymore.”
    “Who do you love? Who is he?”
    “Myself, Robert. I’m doing it for myself. Now I’m hanging up for myself. Say good-bye so I don’t feel like I’m hanging up on you.”
    “But, Jenny—”
    “It’s over. Get on with your life, Robert. I’m hanging up now. Good-bye.”
    “But—” She hung up. “Nobody lives like this,” Robert said to the dial tone.
    Get on with your life . Okay, that’s a plan. He would clean up this place and clean up his life. Never drink again. Things were going to change. Soon she would remember what a great guy he was. But first he had to go to the bathroom to answer an emergency call from Ralph.
     
    The smoke alarm was screaming like a tortured lamb. Robert, now back on the couch, pulled a cushion over his head and wondered why the Breeze didn’t have a sleeper button on his smoke alarm. Then the pounding started. It was a door buzzer, not the smoke alarm.
    “Breeze, answer the door!” Robert shouted into the cushion. The pounding continued. He crawled off the couch and waded through the litter to the door.
    “Hold on a minute, man. I’m coming.” He threw the door open and caught the man outside with his fist poised for another pounding. He was a sharp-faced Hispanic in a raw silk suit. His hair was slicked back and tied in a ponytail with a black silk ribbon. Robert could see a flagship model BMW parked in the driveway.
    “Shit. Jehovah’s Witnesses must make a lot of money,” Robert said.
    The Hispanic was not amused. “I need to talk to The Breeze.”
    At that point Robert realized that he was naked and picked an empty, gallon wine bottle from the floor to cover his privates.
    “Come in,” Robert said, backing away from the