Jim is a voyeur, and he is about to die. He had installed the perfect spying video surveillance money can buy into the roof of the Martins art deco home two weeks ago, however a chord must have come loose somewhere because the camera installed above the bedroom was now showing static. Jim first discovered the wife Kate buying cough medicine in the local pharmacist. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman, light brown shoulder length hair, round hazel eyes and jeans so tight they could have been painted on. She looked late 30's but still sported the body of a nineteen year old. From the first second he saw her he knew he had found his new obsession. Ever since Rachael had moved out of her unit to go live with her new boyfriend, he had been randomly climbing fences, but finding nothing to keep his attention for more than a few nights. But this one, good Lord she was a keeper. His mouth was filling with saliva even now as he thought back on the last fortnight’s footage. She was certainly living up to his expectations. Last Wednesday’s recording of Kate being intimate with her husband was by far the most satisfying voyeuristic experience he had ever had, and he had seen a lot over the years. Now with the new surveillance technologies available and a worthy subject it had taken his obsession to new heights.
Jim waited until the following morning when the Martin's both left for work to return to the house and discover the problem. The house had proven to be an equally perfect location; high fences and trees blocked the neighbours view to the house and allowed him easy access to the backyard. There was no need to break into the interior as all the equipment was placed in the roof cavity. He need only to climb the trellace to the roof and remove a few tiles to gain access. Once inside he was able to crawl along the beams with a torch in his mouth. He carefully crawled to the far end where the bathroom camera was, confirmed it was indeed in working order and moved over to the bedroom one. This also appeared to be fine. He then moved on to the far corner to check the main receiver was functioning. This consisted of a small wireless box that picked up the data from both cameras. Next to this was a battery pack that normally did not require recharging for another six months. Everything looked fine. He was certain that there was no interference, he had accounted for all the electrical disturbances and none were strong enough to cause a camera to show static. He deduced that it must be the camera itself, he simply needed to take a more thorough look. He turned and headed back to the bedroom again. It was a warm day outside and the confined area was beginning to really warm up. Sweat was dripping from Jim's forehead profusely. He raised his hand to wipe his brow when a hissing sound came from the beam directly above him. He looked up to discover a possum within two feet of his face, glaring at him with bared teeth. He let out a yelp and the torch dropped from his mouth and onto the roof, causing the light to switch off. In a panic he reached with both hands toward the place he believed it fell while at the same time feeling the possum’s sharp claws scraping against his cheek. He screamed again and lost his balance on the beam. The roof gave way with a split and before he had time to react, he was falling head first down the cavity between the two bedrooms. It was a good twelve foot drop and in the dark he had no chance to judge when the ground would reach him. It was all over in a matter of seconds.
The fall was enough to snap his neck when he struck the oak floor, arms spread out to his sides and still upside down, like Christ on the cross in reverse. It took another three weeks before he and the equipment were discovered. Complaining of the strange smell coming from the spare bedroom, Kate had followed her nose to the small air grate common in such old houses. She got down on hands and knees and looked through the ornate patterns with a torch, only to discover Jim’s grey horrified face staring back out at her, a fitting end for a voyeur indeed. Even in death he was spying on people.
Whether in a Khaki suit or a pimped stripe. I'm a G for G and nuttin' else for life. You can bet your bottom biscuit. You get twisted if you dwellin' in my felon intuition (what up).