Birth of a Salesman

Set, Set in the West You
Originally uploaded by link5001.

A Problem Never Solved

Every time it rains there is a curious noise produced, presumably anyway, by the drainage system of my building. I remember the first time I heard it and I asked my roommate what it was. He didn't know. No one really knows.
Imagine my surprise as, while on a routine scout of the roof, I found something blocking the gutter just above my room. It was a leather suitcase that had cracked and split from repeated soakings from the rain and bleachings from the sun.
Upon finding it I could still hear the drunken men downstairs making nonsense of themselves and I decided not to bother with opening it just then. Besides, the rusty clasps looked likely they would be impossible to force free anyway. I removed the obstruction mostly in the hopes that it would relieve the building's drainage issues.
In my room I had business to attend to. As usual work coated my desk in a vast expanse. I slid the slim black case between my bed and the wall, where it would stay for the next 5 days. The only reason I remembered it then was that one of my friends casually mentioned their wishes to see the roof and it all flooded back.
Propped up on my bed I must have spent an hour attempting to get the switch clasps to budge but it was a fruitless effort. I even attempted busting them apart with a monkey wrench that sits useless in my desk drawer. Still no luck.
Naturally, just as any child at Christmas would have done, I gave it a few good shakes. From what I could tell there were at least 3 good solid objects in there, one of them seemed to like rolling and something was metallic. There was also the unmistakable scratching and crinkling of paper. Satisfied with my new mental image of it's contents for the time being I placed it back behind my bed.
It wasn't long before someone noticed it during a visit and I explained the whole story. Obviously more intrigued that I he seemed bent on finding a way to opening it. When I fully realized the power of his obsession I handed the briefcase over to him and asked only that he tell me what he found once he opened it. He left and I didn't hear from him for a while. The weeks went by and I eventually forgot all about my old token.
Three years later I was having a muffin from a snack stand at one of England's lovely International airports when across the way I see a familiar form. My old friend from Egypt! We talked briefly, he seemed hurried so I decided to let him go. After all it was an airport, I was sure he had a flight to catch.
It was then that I noticed what had stuck me as being so odd about him. His carry on. I knew that carry on. It was the case from the roof. Without thinking I hurried to his side and inquired as to what had been in it.
Never had I seen the color drain from a man's face that quickly before. In a moment his red flushed cheeks (he was obviously a drinker) shrank to an ashen gray before I really had time to see it happened. I don't remember his exact explanation but I do believe he said something about a can of shaving cream and some paperwork. He explained that upon fixing the latches he had discovered that he actually quite enjoyed the case itself. I nodded but after I bid him farewell and returned to my snacking I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity oh his enjoying that mangled and destroyed case.
Ironically the reason I was in London was to visit a colleague who had lived with me, and my old friend in Egypt. With the story fresh on my mind I took the opportunity to share it with him. The intensity of his stare as I shared it with him led me to believe there was something of deeper interest in it. He remembered the case I spoke of quite well for he lived just across the hall from my friend when he found it. As I mentioned, I lost contact with the man shortly after giving him the case but the man I was meeting with informed me that he never actually saw him open it. He did offer the fact that shortly after bringing the case back, his demeanor drastically changed. He became more reclusive and far less talkative. It seems that every time he was seen the case was in his had. One day the man's roommate reported that he just up and left.
His room was bear aside from a can of shaving cream placed curiously on the molding along the ceiling. It was carefully balanced there and when shook made a rattling sound. The dispenser lid was latched to allow for it's opening. Before inspecting the contents of the can, the roommate noticed also a legal pad upon witch a scrap of paper still clung after most of the papers were obviously ripped out. On it was written:
"Instructions, le......" and "follow until the end, do not stop until the..."
In the can he found four adult human teeth and a pin knife, rusted and inscribed with the name Helder Astor II.
As far as my colleague had known, my old friend from Egypt had been reported killed just a year earlier in Amsted, though his body was never recovered.
At one time I wondered what I would have found had I breached the shell of that case, but that curiosity has faded. I have no loss to derive from it, aside from the fact that it never did fix the problem with the drainage from the roof.

P.L. Barmound, ~1989