The Landlady: The Sequel
Shortly after the death of Billy Weaver another ‘unknowing victim’ was approaching the station at Bath having taken all day to travel down from Dublin. As Patrick Reid stepped off the train he approached the conductor and said “Excuse me, but are there any cheap hotels around here?”
“Try the Bell and Dragon,” he answered in his well spoken accent. “They might take you in and it’s only down the road.”
“Thank you,” Patrick said in his distinguished accent. He picked up his very extravagant and large suitcase, and carried on down the road. He could see the Bell and Dragon’s neon sign flickering in the distance. It was getting ever closer until he was stopped dead in his tracks by the house with its printed sign that clearly displayed the words “BED AND BREAKFAST.” Patrick couldn’t resist looking into the property and, as he looked through the crystal clear windows, one of the first things he saw was an open fire burning and in front of the fire was the owner’s beloved pet dachshund curled up with his nose tucked into his belly. The room itself seemed to be very well furnished; he noticed that the occupiers of the house paid particular attention to the grand piano. He thought to himself. “This looks cosy; I wonder how much it would cost?” He walked up the stairs leading to the door, as he stood on the doorstep he smartened himself up and firmly knocked. But, before he could put his hands down to his side the door was open.
The Review on Patrick Bateman In "American Psycho" – A Freudian Analysis
... to toilet training. There were definite issues regarding Patrick surrounding issues such as anal fixation; more specifically, ... retentiveness that resulted in abnormal behaviors in adulthood. Patrick was obsessively clean and antiseptic in his living ... psychoanalytical and psychodynamic theories. From a psychoanalytical approach, Patrick Bateman displayed signs of unresolved issues that can ...
Almost instantly the aroma of almonds hit Patrick and a very small old lady stood in his presence.
“Ahh just the person,” she said.
“What do you mean? I have came here because I believe that you have a vacancy is that correct?”
“Yes you are correct. You should come in out of the cold,” she said pleasantly.
She stood aside with the door wide open welcoming him into the house. Patrick stepped inside.
“I was just making my way down to the Bell and Dragon but I noticed your sign in the window.”
“Oh yes the room is all ready for you.”
“How much does it cost to stay here?”
“Five and sixpence a night, including breakfast,” the old lady stated.
This was very cheap; nearly half what he was willing to pay.
“Is that ok?” she finished.
“That’s fine. Where am I staying?” he asked inquisitively
“Just hang up your coat up and I will show you.”
He looked up at the hat stand and noticed that there were no other garments on the stand. “Does the women ever go out?” he thought as, he hung up his coat and hat and followed her upstairs. She started walking up the stairs and stopped half way; she smiled at him and pointed up the stairs gesturing for him to go ahead. As they got to the top she said,
“We have it all to ourselves; I don’t have the pleasure of taking people in very often.”
Patrick knew there was something odd about the women but at five and sixpence a night, who gives a damm about that?!
“With a price like that I’m very surprised that you are not swimming in applicants,” he joked.
“I am very picky you see,” she said defensively. “I always have the room ready just on the off-chance that an acceptable young gentleman will come along. It gives me great pleasure to open up the door to find someone standing there who is exactly right… like you,” she said with a big smile on her soft pink rounded face. “So, the first floor is mine and the second is all yours. I will show you your room now.”
As she climbed a second set of stairs Patrick noticed that the smell of almonds became stronger along with another strong but unrecognisable scent. As they got to the landing she opened the first door and said,
The Term Paper on The Coach Locker Room
I had been running track all through high school and was just about to start my senior season. I had never been great, but good enough to make states last year in the middle distances. Up until this year our only coaches were your typical, out of shape, over the hill, middle aged women who only coached track because they were either mean old biddies who liked to boss around young women or were ...
“This is your room.” She took him in to a very small but pleasant front bedroom “The morning sun comes straight in through this window Mr. Weaver… it is Mr. Weaver isn’t it?”
“No it’s Mr. Reid, Patrick Reid,” He corrected her.
“Oh yes, sorry Mr. Reid. I’ve put a hot water bottle in-between the sheets to air them out. It’s very comforting to have a hot water bottle in a strange bed with new sheets. Don’t you agree Mr. Weaver…? I mean Mr. Reid? And you can light the fire any time you want.”
“Thank you,” Patrick said. He noticed that the bedspread had been taken off and bedclothes tucked in ready for him to get in. Patrick put his suitcase on the bed and the landlady noticed the big green shamrock on the front.
“Are your from Ireland?” she asked
“Yes, I am indeed, why do you ask?”
“Like I said, the perfect person,” she replied as she started backing out of the door.
He began to unpack but was interrupted by the landlady.
“Do you want supper or have you already eaten?”
“I’m not hungry thanks, I think I might just go to bed.”
“One last thing.” She asked “Would you be kind enough to pop into the sitting room on the ground floor and sign the guest book on the grand piano? Everyone has to as it is the law of the land and we don’t want to break any laws now do we?”
“Certainly not,” he replied, “I will do it as soon as I finish unpacking.”
Even thought she seemed a bit mad he thought she was a very genuine woman. He finished unpacking and made his way into the living room. As he walked in he could see the fire burning and the house once again seemed cosy. He walked over to the piano and looked down at the guest book and saw only three names. He started to read them. One was Christopher Mulholland from Cardiff; the second was Gregory W. Temple from Bristol the last one was Billy Weaver from London. “That’s a coincidence,” he thought to himself. “She keeps calling me by the name of her last guest,” all of these men’s names rang a bell Patrick was repeating these names in his head when a quiet subtle voice said,
“Such charming boys. Did you know them?”
“No I just thought I recognised the names,” he commented, startled by the sudden reappearance of the old lady.
The Homework on My Favorite Room Window Bed Work
My room is my favorite place. The floor of my room is a golden brown carpet. A beige rug covers a small portion of the floor next to my bed. In an array of gloss and semi-gloss, shades of off-white cover these four walls. Entire sections are hidden by nearly a dozen posters of comic book characters, girls, or athletes. Along the top section of my wall I have my eight-teen hats. My room is about 10 ...
“Sit down my boy,” she said to him as she placed a tea tray full of cakes and tea onto the coffee table.
“I think I know where I have heard their names,” Patrick commented as he sat.
“Where?” for the first time the lady’s voice seemed frail.
“I get a lot of missing person’s leaflets and it think I have seen Mr. …”
“Tea?” She abruptly interrupted him.
“Yes please,” He commented, slightly annoyed at having to be polite even though he just wanted to go straight to bed.
As he slowly put the tea up to his lips he noticed the women looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. Just as the cup touched his lips he smelt almonds but not just faintly like before, it was very strong.
“I am awfully sorry but I have just remembered that tea upsets my stomach.” His stomach heaved as he moved the cup away from his lips and a queer sense of fear fluttered throughout his body.
“That’s quite alright, do you want anything else?” she sighed, a faint flicker of annoyance passing over her face.
“No, I’ll be fine thanks. I think I will go bed now and leave you in peace as I have to be up early tomorrow.”
“Good night,” She said abruptly bustling out of the room with the tea tray.
As Patrick reached the first floor landing he could barely stand the smell any longer for he’d finally realise; it was formaldehyde. He hurried up the stairs and the smell was getting stronger, luckily his bedroom door was shut so the smell wasn’t in his room. Just as Patrick was climbing into the flowery patterned duvet, he heard the landlady going to bed he thought nothing of it and started to close his eyes but he couldn’t sleep as all he could hear was bottles hitting each other and he thought he could hear dragging. He tried numerous times to get to sleep but the noises seemed to just be getting louder so, as any one would do he had to investigate these noises. While climbing the stairs he found the suspense overwhelming, he was a very curious person. As he reached the top of the landing he walked around a bit and the rooms were empty, the hallway had no carpets and no wall paper it was very creepy as there was not even a light on. He could see that one room was only open a jar and there was a beam of light coming form the gap so Patrick slowly opened the door to peer into the room where the noises where coming from. All he saw was the landlady with a surgical mask on, stood in front of a very young man, very shocked she dropped her instruments and slowly turned her head to look over her left shoulder, they looked at each other dead in the eyes.
The Term Paper on Park Tea Room
Master “Hally” Harold is the seventeen year old lead of Athol Fugard’s work, a white boy of South African descent, son of his mentor Sam’s employer. Sam is one of two black waiters employed by his family’s business, the St. George’s Park Tea Room. The focus of the play is of the two men’s mutual educating of the other. The younger of the two, Hally takes great pride in his “educating” Sam on book ...
