I once had a very good friend, and his name was Albert. It was some years back when I lived in the Caribbean, in the Dominican republic.I lived in a house that I rented from a Dominican family. Well, to call it a house would be a large overstatement...It was a little shack in their backyard.
But it did offer some luxury... When I was lying on my bed at night, I could see the moon and the stars just peeking through the holes in the door and the gap between the roof and the walls.
I also has a lot of different friends stopping by all around the clock, sadly I usually only noticed them in the mornings
- when they were hanging from my walls.
You had Hyacinth, who was a huge spider. She was very social and never came without all of her family and friends.
But, my very best friend in this house was Albert. Albert was actually the only one I didn`t throw out the window every morning.(-That's the sign of a true lasting friendship if you ask me)He lived in my bathroom, behind the mirror. He was about 4 cm long and black and he was a gecko.(Would be a little scary if he was human, considering his choice of living place, no?) In the mornings, after throwing out Hyacinth and her enthusiastic crowd of friends and relatives I went into Alberts room to get ready for the day. I never saw him when I entering the room (I always suspected him not to be much of a morningbird)
But when I got into the shower and glanced over at the mirror I could normally get a glimpse of a drowsy little head popping out and greeting me.
Have you ever seen an animal looking like it had a rally bad hangover?? That was Albert every morning. In the evenings he was never there. I gotta admit, I had my own suspicions about his activities at those hours.
Well, after living in this house for 3 weeks, I had got pretty fond of Albert and our little morning-ritual.
But then, suddenly, one morning after the sneaky cleaning-lady had been doing her "cleaning" I went to the bathroom for a shower and the response of Alberts drowsy head popping out to greet me was extremely slow. Or to say it in better words - It was extremely non-existent. So I had to do something I had never done before, (because I cherish and respect others privacy.) I had to sneak up to the mirror and look behind, into Alberts most private spheres, to see if he was okay or maybe just a tiny little bit more hungover than usual. - Something which would imply immediate assistance from the nearest hospital. (Or the weird woman down the street with filthy bottles as we also called her)To my shock and horror, there was NO Albert there.
HE was missing.
He had left me.
And he dint even leave a note.
After thinking this through for many hard years together with my therapist, I figured out that Albert must have ran off with the cleaninglady.
(Sob)
** This story is based on true events and the somewhat twisted mind of a poor norwegian girl.
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