The Disillusionists. cont'd...

On the outskirts of town, before the first ring of warehouses, lay older suburbs where the lots were big and the foyers bigger. The invasion of monster homes had long since swept through and ornate soul-deprived fortresses stood front and centre. The occasional glimpse of a coach house or stone wall, cast iron street lamp or orchard let you know that at one time, big money lived here. Current residents would have been alarmed at the sound of May's little four-banger as we pounded down the street - that is, if they could here us at all... Most were buried deep in their home theatres, sipping tumblers of single malt whiskey and applauding pale screen imitations of real life.

May pulled up to a gate and punched a code into a keypad on a pole next to the driveway. The gate opened by tilting up like a garage door. "Height restrictions," she said to me, "lot's of low branches."

We were in a tunnel formed by the limbs of dozens of Maple trees. It was dark now and the headlights moved in a veil ahead of us.

"Must be pretty in the fall." I said momentarily gayishly.

"Yeah," said May, "Wouldn't want to be the one to clean it up though, hey?"

The house was a dilapitated pile of shit after the long winding drive. A saging rancher with moss covered windows and no practical relationship to its surroundings. The grounds created an expectation of grandeur- a mansion or small castle perhaps. Somewhere along the line those dreams were shattered and a rectangular box with a tar-pebbled roof sat in it's place like a retired crack-whore at Tim Horton's on a Tuesday night after midnight in July...

"My butt isn't wet is it?" I said to May as we got out of the car. I turned to show her my denim clad cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said, "My car is a piece of crap. That side's a little leaky..." She wiped at it with the sleeve of her jacket, which felt kinda good, "Just keep your back to the wall."

At the entrance, May knocked hard on the door. The rain had stopped but the trees and eaves were still dripping - giving the place an added creepiness which of course I refused to acknowledge. Grape vines had taken over the soffit and obscured most of the light from the single bare bulb above. Little green bunches of marbles hung all around and a shadowy mess in the flower beds looked like it hadn't been weeded in years. May gave the finger to a new looking camera in the corner and pushed the door open. It swung with a heavy squeal.