Maybe with a bucket of Holy Water I could go back in…
This past weekend was a busy one, what with eating out and entertainment and hanging with the dead and all. “Wha?” you say? Oh, listen, sister…
After our dinner at David’s 388 (scroll down…) we had tickets to go see a community theater production of Le Cage Aux Folles at the Portland Players (which, weirdly enough, is in South Portland). Le Cage is the story of a drag queen and her husband, and the shenanigans that happen when their (straight) son plans to marry the daughter of a very conservative politician. The Birdcage was based off of it. Got it?
I have to admit, it was a very entertaining show. There were a couple of the “girls” in the show who were standouts – I wish I could remember their stage names. Um – the shorter one and the scary dominatrix one (Hanna?)? They made me laugh every time they came on stage. I’m a sucker for funny drag.
The leading lady, Albin, was very good. Although her voice is a tish on the weak side, her character work was stellar. But I have to say that the standout in the whole show was Thomas Smallwood as Jacob. Funny, charming and with a big ol’ voice, he stole the show.
On Sunday morning Hubby and I went to an open house. Every now and then we will see something in the paper or online that is just to good to pass up a quick look through, you know? Well, this was a three story Victorian with 5 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms in the West End for only 350k. OMG, right? It is a little close to its neighbor (3 feet?), but we could just put up shades on that side of the house. Well.
We got to the house and yes, it needs work. The roof line was falling apart, there was no driveway and the whole house needed painting. But, from the outside, it was very beautiful. We walked in.
The first floor was fine. It had tall ceilings and gorgeous moldings around all the rooms and lighting fixtures. It was a little dingy, and yes, there were creepy little piles of personal belongings shoved into every corner, and yes, the kitchen hadn’t been updated (or cleaned) since the late 60s, but it was all workable. Then we went upstairs.
Imagine if you will a series of small cramped rooms leading one to another in a mind boggling maze of insanity. That’s what we found. There were a few bathrooms. One in particular was situated at the far end of the house. The only window was high up on the wall, and far to small to effectively light the place. The wallpaper was white with vines all over it. Everything was dirty. The bathtub was thick with rust. Or maybe blood stains, I didn’t investigate further.
Walking through the rooms we came upon wall after wall filled with 70’s horror pin ups, like this…
It must have been very restful to fall asleep with that staring at you. Oh! and there was an old poison bottle in one of the bathrooms, on top of a cabinet. Just sitting there. Poison. Not the perfume. The murder implement.
And the worst of it all was the feeling. As soon as we went up stairs Hubby started feeling sick, and it didn’t go away until we were out of the house. It felt very “thick” walking through all the rooms, ominous. Whether it was because of the filth and the darkness (and the ouija board that was laying on the floor in one of the rooms), or whether it was me just being too sensitive, I don’t know.
What I do know is that I would not buy that house without a thorough blessing by a priest, and maybe a full exorcism. Creepy.