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October 24, 2005
Eviction Process (cont) pt1
"Pat. I need you to give me a key when you guys move out tomorrow." I saw my tenant sitting on her stoop smoking a cigarrette.
"We ain't got no place to go. There're so many lies goin' on 'round here. Too many lies." At least that's what I think she said. I can usually make out the gist of what she says, but I rarely know exactly what she says. I'm not sure exactly why she's all but indecipherable.
My guess is she lost her intelligibility when she lost her teeth. She's left with only black stumps on top and two grey teeth on the bottom.
"What do you mean you have no where to go? I thought you were moving across the street."
"That landlord never said nothin' like that." She yelled at me. "Earl, that lyin' bastard lied to us and told us he talked to that landlord and we could move in, but he ain't never talked to that landlord."
"That's what he told me too." Earl lived with Pat. I'm not sure if they are related, especially considering the way she talks about him, but I seem to recall her referring to him as her son.
"He told everyone that, but that landlord never said nothin' like that. Then he went to the hospital and left us."
Earl has something wrong with him. I'm not sure what it is, but it's a lot more serious than his perpetually crazy-looking crossed eyes. If you stand near him you can hear something in his chest occassionally release a quick burst of air -- pffft. My guess that is directly related to his almost week on week off stays at the hospital. I've been told, however, that Earl's regular trips to the hospital correspond to his forty consumption.
"So, what now? When were you going to tell me that? You told me you were going to be out of the house and the last day you don't even tell me until I ask?"
"Don't worry, Mr. Brian." Everyone on the block from 2 to 60 years old calls me Mr Brian. "We'll be out your house. We'll stay with my sister."
"Good, because I need you out tomorrow. I've got people coming in to fix the place up." I lied.
About two hours later I her banging on my door. Not knocking, banging.
Shit. It's my tenants. What do they want now?
I reluctantly went to the door. I opened the door and for almost half a second was relieved it wasn't my neighbors at the door begging not to kick them out. Then the strange, overweight, middle-aged black woman and what I guess was either her husband or pimp started screaming at me.
Posted by calculatoronfire at October 24, 2005 02:02 PM
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Comments
Oh, what the HELL?!?! Leave me HANGING?!?!
Cripes!!! NOT FAIR!!!
Posted by: Freak Magnet at October 24, 2005 03:36 PM