’What the fuck!’ Tim wakes with a start. ‘Jesus!’, he sighs, wide awake. The bedside clock tells him he slept a whole 2 hours.

He lies quietly, listening. ‘I am catching you tonight motherfucker’, Tim says under his breath. For the last few days, the same thing wakes him up every night. A soft knocking that increases in intensity, stops for a while, and then repeats elsewhere in the house.

What drives Tim insane is the waiting for the next knock. There is no discernible pattern, the time between knocks varies from seconds to several minutes. He stayed up last night and the night before, trying to discover the source of the knocking. He learned nothing and his efforts left him exhausted and sleep deprived.

He sits up and wiggles his feet into a pair of Bunny eared slippers. The slippers used to belong to his late wife. She had big feet. Everything about her was big, big ass, big boobs, big laugh and big personality. ‘God, I miss her’, Tim rubs his eyes, yawns and farts loudly. He really must lay off the cheese before bedtime.

‘knock, knock, knock, Knock, Knock, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!’

Tim is up in a flash and rush into the hallway. The knocking was right outside the bedroom. ‘Nothing!’ he says to himself, standing despondently in the partially lit hallway, a middle-aged man wearing pink bunny eared slippers, boxer shorts and t-shirt. He flips the light on and squints against the sudden glare, then frowns at his own reflection in the large mirror just outside the bedroom door.

His late wife wanted the mirror there so she could make sure she looked fine for the day. ‘Gotta lay off the beer and chips old man!’, Tim slaps his belly with both hands, not liking the jiggly feeling of his belly fat under his hands. ‘Fuck it!’, his frown deepens when he notices how red his eyes are. ‘No need to stay fit anymore’. He heads downstairs for a beer. There might even be some chips left. Looks like there won’t be any sleep tonight.

***

Sonya had a stroke four weeks ago. They were getting ready to go out for dinner, and it happened in front of her mirror. She was babbling nonstop about the restaurant while checking her clothes and hair. Tim was inside the bedroom listening, and heard her words become unintelligible. He thought she was messing around, she loved to joke, and he came out of the room smiling, ready for her to crack him up like she often does. Her face was drooping on one side, and before he could reach her, she fell, striking her head against the wall.

Tim knew it was a stroke, and that every minute counts. He made her comfortable and called 911. The paramedics would get there much faster than him trying to get her downstairs and into the car. The ambulance arrived fast, but not fast enough. Sonya died with her head in his lap, right in front of her mirror.

***

The knocking started again when Tim opened a second beer. This time it came from inside the fridge. He sipped on his beer as he considered this. He pulled this beer from the fridge moments ago, and nothing in there can produce that sound.

’Did you hear that?’ Tim asks when Elvis walks into the kitchen. The king was wearing a white sequined suit with wide collars and a belt with a large, bejeweled buckle. His thick black hair was slicked back and the gold rimmed sunglasses he wore disappeared into massive sideburns. Elvis pops a chip into his mouth, and answers while chewing noisily, ‘Hear what Timmy Tim?’. Tim slams his beer down, causing it to froth over. ‘The fucking knocking from inside the fridge. The knocking that moves through the house, caused by some unseen thing, keeping me awake for days now.’

Tim is momentarily stunned, realizing he is talking to a phantom. He is alone. Elvis was not there. ‘God almighty! I need to sleep; I am losing my mind’. He grabs the bag of chips and the beer and goes outside to get some fresh air. It is early October, and the night air is crisp. It might clear his mind so he can think.

***

Things become progressively worse over the next few days. The knocking increases and Tim is not sleeping. He stopped eating, did not shower and drank beer when he felt thirsty. He spent his days wandering through the house muttering to himself. He met Lincoln and Ghandi and is convinced he saw a Neanderthal in the backyard.

On the day Tim died someone else showed up, all dressed up and ready to go somewhere. It’s Sonya.

’What took you so long honey? I’ve been knocking forever!’.