This is still a continuation. start here. then go here. and if you still feel like reading...well....
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Now to be fair, I can't say for certain what the specific category of trash he belonged to was. I refer to him as the 'crackhead' as a term of endearment. Only...the opposite of endearment. Also, he may have been smoking crack.
For the first week he was there, everything seemed dandy. And I rarely use the word dandy. He had a job, rent went down. Good times. In the second week things sank into the dark abyss that had become my reality.
I came home from work, tired and weary. What do you suppose I found when I got there? You guessed it, a lady of the night, a working girl, tramp, crackwhore.
Mayhaps I judged her too quick you might be thinking. And you might be right, but she was wearing a whores uniform. Didn't you guess that?
My new roommate came slurring up to me. "One of ma boys did ya."
"Excuse me?"
"One of ma boys did ya. I saw him come out of your room."
He sputtered something else but I was busy storming off to my room for a quick look about. Ten minutes later I discovered what he meant. About $200 worth of change was missing. Why did I have so much change? None of your business.
This was the beginning of the end. The next week, he broke his foot and lost his job. Then a strange woman called up looking for him. "Is Ed there?"
"No, he's out right now," (buying crack in change) "Can I ask who's calling?"
"I think I'm his wife," (you think?) "Pardon me for asking, but is this a jail or a half-way house?" (oh fucking great)
"No, he lives here."
She hung up and I was freaking out. What the hell did I just get into? For the next week or so, he hobbled around on crutches not working and smoking crack. Again, I'm not certain it was crack he was smoking, but whenever I came home from work the house smelled like vanilla covering a burned plastic smell and he sweat profusely..
Things quickly soured from here. The crackwhore would come at all hours of the night, ringing the bell, screaming for his sorry ass and making a general nuisance of herself. He didn't bother answering her.
I had connections so I had a search done on his records. He had been arrested ten years prior on drug charges and fraud. The landlords only had a search done for seven years. As far as I could tell, he had no friends to speak of. This mysterious friend of his that took my money was suddenly a musician one day (perhaps so I could identify with him) then on another day he was dying of AIDS. (perhaps so I could feel sympathy for him) Regardless, he insisted he would make good on it. In all honesty he did pay me $40 back (by 'he' I mean his daughter). Of course he stole another $150 so...really....he did nothing at all.
He never worked again. And he never paid bills or rent. The landlords wouldn't help us beyond putting dead-bolts on all of the doors and insisted we were all responsible for the whole of the rent.(by 'we' they meant me) We restricted his movements to the living room, bathroom and kitchen. Everything else was locked tight and booby trapped.
Then in the midst of this all, my car was totalled in a hit and run accident parked in front of my house.
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more crackhead stories later......
in the meantime.....here....
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Now to be fair, I can't say for certain what the specific category of trash he belonged to was. I refer to him as the 'crackhead' as a term of endearment. Only...the opposite of endearment. Also, he may have been smoking crack.
For the first week he was there, everything seemed dandy. And I rarely use the word dandy. He had a job, rent went down. Good times. In the second week things sank into the dark abyss that had become my reality.
I came home from work, tired and weary. What do you suppose I found when I got there? You guessed it, a lady of the night, a working girl, tramp, crackwhore.
Mayhaps I judged her too quick you might be thinking. And you might be right, but she was wearing a whores uniform. Didn't you guess that?
My new roommate came slurring up to me. "One of ma boys did ya."
"Excuse me?"
"One of ma boys did ya. I saw him come out of your room."
He sputtered something else but I was busy storming off to my room for a quick look about. Ten minutes later I discovered what he meant. About $200 worth of change was missing. Why did I have so much change? None of your business.
This was the beginning of the end. The next week, he broke his foot and lost his job. Then a strange woman called up looking for him. "Is Ed there?"
"No, he's out right now," (buying crack in change) "Can I ask who's calling?"
"I think I'm his wife," (you think?) "Pardon me for asking, but is this a jail or a half-way house?" (oh fucking great)
"No, he lives here."
She hung up and I was freaking out. What the hell did I just get into? For the next week or so, he hobbled around on crutches not working and smoking crack. Again, I'm not certain it was crack he was smoking, but whenever I came home from work the house smelled like vanilla covering a burned plastic smell and he sweat profusely..
Things quickly soured from here. The crackwhore would come at all hours of the night, ringing the bell, screaming for his sorry ass and making a general nuisance of herself. He didn't bother answering her.
I had connections so I had a search done on his records. He had been arrested ten years prior on drug charges and fraud. The landlords only had a search done for seven years. As far as I could tell, he had no friends to speak of. This mysterious friend of his that took my money was suddenly a musician one day (perhaps so I could identify with him) then on another day he was dying of AIDS. (perhaps so I could feel sympathy for him) Regardless, he insisted he would make good on it. In all honesty he did pay me $40 back (by 'he' I mean his daughter). Of course he stole another $150 so...really....he did nothing at all.
He never worked again. And he never paid bills or rent. The landlords wouldn't help us beyond putting dead-bolts on all of the doors and insisted we were all responsible for the whole of the rent.(by 'we' they meant me) We restricted his movements to the living room, bathroom and kitchen. Everything else was locked tight and booby trapped.
Then in the midst of this all, my car was totalled in a hit and run accident parked in front of my house.
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------+
more crackhead stories later......
in the meantime.....here....
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