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October 26, 2005
Eviction Process (cont) pt3
Sunday I talked to my tenants and they told me they'd be out of the house by the next day. I'd have had no reason not to believe if I had just gone on the looks of the house -- everything was packed up in boxes and scatered around the house. I had more to go on, however. They'd been saying they'd leave the house "tomorrow" for over a month and half. Still for some reason I believed them this time.
My faith in them was shattered later that day when I answered the door to an enraged middle-aged couple. They threatened me, told me they called 911 and in the end informed me their imprisoned son's baby's mother and her family were not going to leave my house.
Monday when I came home from work with eviction paper-work in hand my neighbors/tenants called me into their house no sonner than I stepped out of my car. "Mr. Brian. Come in here. Mama wants to talk to you."
Shit. What is it this time? I thought to myself. Outwardly I managed a half-hearted "I'll be over there later."
"No. Mama gots here pension check. She gots to give you the rent."
Much more excited this time, "I'll be there in a minute."
I got together the neighbors' bills and went back over to the house. They called me inside as soon as I got to the wide-open door.
I went inside and saw the adults of the hosue crowded around the kitchen table drinking 40s while a the kids ran around the house in diapers at most. "Nini, get Mr Brian his money." The older woman called to her daughter.
The daughter reached into a plastic storage box and pulled out a wad of 50s
.
I was impressed. I don't think I'd ever seen that many 50s in one place before. She handed me the entire wad - 36 of them. "That's what we owe you."
I took my time and counted it twice. 36. "This is $1800."
"That's what we owe you, right?"
"Most of it. You owe me $2100."
"I thought you said it was $1800."
"That was before you decided to stay for this month."
"What? Uh uh."
"I'm only charging you up to the 15th right now."
"How can you charge us that kind of money for this place. You ain't done shit to fix it while we lived here."
I looked around at the refrigerator and stove I gave them. The ceiling I replaced, the ceiling fan I put in, the whole in the wall I patched up, and the freshly broken windows I'd have to fix.
"Ok. Here's a deal: If you leave by the end of the month I won't charge you at all for the month. If you're still here on the 1st of Novemeber you owe me for a full month plus November." Then I wrote it down on their receipt and my records so I can bring it to court, like I'm 90% certain I'll have to do.
"Don't worry," the older woman said in a disgusted tone, "we ain't stayin' here no way."
Posted by calculatoronfire at 08:48 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
October 25, 2005
Eviction Process (cont) pt2
I opened the door to see an overweight, middle-aged black woman in sweat pants and a sweatshirt with what I took to be either her husband or her pimp next to her. He wore what could easily be considered a pimp's uniform - long leather trench coat, bright red alligator skin shoes and a feathered hat - but he didn't quite have the demeanor.
He stood by as she asked the questions.
"You Mr Brian?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"What you mean to do kicking these people out tomorrow?" Then she raised her voice. "You cannot be doing that! You cannot kick anybody out without a note from a judge! The sherriff has to do that."
Then the pimp chimed in. He was an imposing guy, well over six feet tall without yelling, but he apparently decided that he needed to yell at me anyway. "What the hell do you think you doing kicking these people out with less than a day notice?"
"I didn't kick them out. I asked them to leave. I asked them over 3 months ago."
"These are my grandkids. You got that?" Now he not only looked liked he was going to start pounding my skull against the side of my house, but he looked a bit like he was going to cry. His lip opened and closed rapidly like he was stuttering, but he wasn't saying a word. "This is illegal."
Then the fat woman joined in again. "I know the law better than you think. I know the law better than you. I know you can't evict someone without a court order. You didn't know that. I know that."
"I know I can't evict them without a court order. I didn't evict them yet. I asked them to leave. If they don't I'll have them evicted."
"You have to go through the process. This shit ain't legal." He said. "They haven't done anything. They have a lease."
"No they don't have a lease. And they haven't paid rent for over 4 months. I warned them over 3 months ago they'd have to leave."
The pimp stormed off leaving me with the overweight woman. "She said you just told them today they had to leave."
"No. They've known for months."
"She called me crying telling me I'd have to take my grandkids. She said you were putting her out."
OK. It's her husband, not her pimp. I thought. The woman was referring to Pat, the older woman in the house I rent out. Pat lives in the house with her two daughters and the daughters' 3 children along with Earl, when he's not in the hospital at least. That population is down from its peak of 12 this spring after Earl came home from prison.
"I asked her to leave and she said she'd find someplace to go. How was I supposed to know?"
"This damn family is so lazy. They ain't nothing but trouble. They ain't been nothing but trouble for my Gene since he came down here." Gene, her son - I think - fathered a couple of the kids in the house, but is in jail at current. "I'm from the old school where we pay our bills. I'm from the old school."
The pimp came back up to me, "I had to leave to keep me from getting violent with you. You know this is illegal."
"He said they ain't paid rent for months and they been knowin' for months 'bout leavin just ain't done shit."
"They still don't have no place to go." Turing to me. "These are my grandkids. You can't throw them on the street."
My first thought was that if it was so important to him that they don't end up on the street then he should take them in." I was going to tell him so when Earl came up to us.
"It ain't his fault. These people just don't look for another place. They ain't payin' rent. They's just lazy. They sit around and do nothin' all day but bithc about me then kick me out when I'm the only one payin' any kinda anything."
"He still can't just kick them out." Pimp Grandaddy said.
"That's right they's lazy. They ain't no good n' got my Gene in trouble." I doubt it was anyone but Gene's fault he got into trouble. He sucked down more forties and smoked more blunts than anyone I've seen, before or since. He was constantly starting fights with one person or the other and even got kicked out of both neighborhood corner bars for being such a nuisance.
"They's so lazy in there," Earl started up again. "Tiarra so lazy she be too lazy to go down to fill out the paperwork to get herself on welfare. She could be on welfare but's too lazy."
I never knew that welfare was for the ambitious, but it appears that's the case.
Pimp daddy started turning in circles and then charged into the house.
"Ain't anyone int here got a job. I was the only one. They's too lazy. Me and James even got them jobs down at the place where we work at and they never showed up. We got them jobs, but they's too lazy." James is the brother of the two girls. He was one of the twelve residents when the house was at peak occupancy. Him, his girlfriend and three of his kids.
"I told them you said it was ok for them to stay to the end of the month." Pimp daddy announced. "Come on, Momma. They're staying here. Let's just go home."
Posted by calculatoronfire at 04:05 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
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 02:02 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 18, 2005
The Morning Team
Yesterday when I woke up I wasn't exactly in the best of moods. After a nice weekend of hanging out until 6am and sleeping in late I had a hard time getting up for work on Monday.
And that was before I found out my cat puked all over the foot of my bed.
So I gathered up my sheets and trudged, half asleep, down to the basement to wash my freshly soiled sheets.
My basement has a low ceiling, so it didn't surprise me when I walked into a bare light bulb, smashing it and sending shards of glass showering down on myself. I wasn't too surprised, but I was agitated.
End then I went out into the yard to find my dogs had gotten into the garbage can and torn up garbage all around my back yard.
So when other people annoyed me on my way to work I didn't think too much of it. I gave them the benefit of the doubt - I was in a bad mood.
Today on the other hand. It's all their fault.
Driving down the road I passed a jackass going well below the speed limit in the left hand lane. I passed him on the right side and looked his way to give him a well deserved glare. Unfortunately he was too busy typing an email on his Dingleberry to notice me.
He held the Dingleberry in his left hand, along with the steering wheel, and typed with his right hand.
What an Asshole. He's the biggest jerkoff I've ever seen, I thought.
Until I got only a couple miles farther down the road when I saw a guy driving down the interstate in a big white lincoln towncar while shaving.
I don't know how or why, but there he was with the steering wheel in one hand and a razor in the other shaving his face.
I wonder if these people get together before starting out for the day. "You shave in the right lane. I'll be just behind you typing up an email in the left lane. Bob -- the guy with the old junker covered in NASCAR stickers will cover the middle lane eating a sandwich or something. Where is he?"
"He called to say he'll be late, he's putting on a new sticker that says 'Gordon sucks. Petty swallows. And Junior Blows.'"
"Well, we'll have to start without him. Brian'll be leaving for work any second."
Posted by calculatoronfire at 10:18 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 17, 2005
The Old Man and the Dog
Yesterday I was giving Emma a ride on my motorcycle. We were going through the alley to get to the main street when a huge rottweiler lunged at us from out of one of the yards we passed. The yard had no back gate and we could easily see the huge dog chest as it ran and jumped through the air at us, monsterous paws out in front of it.
The dog growled and barked as it flew at us. Until the steel chain the owner used as a leash pulled taut and stopped the dog's momentum only a few feet from us.
"Did you see that?" Emma asked.
"How could I miss it?"
"Wow. That was scary."
It could have been worse I thought. It could have been out there without a leash, or it could have broken it's leash. But we were safe.
This morning driving through the alley the situation was different.
First, we were in my truck.
Second, the dog wasn't attacking us.
Third the dog was either outside without a leash or it had already snapped its leash. It was out in the alley growling and barking at an old man trying to get across the alley.
At first I thought the dog belonged to the old man, but after seeing the fright in his eyes I realized the dog wasn't his.
I stopped in the alley as the old man's fight or flight response kicked in and he ran back into his car.
The dog was apparently satisfied with simply scaring him shitless and suntered back to the tiny little concrete pad it used as a launching pad for its attacks.
With them out of my way I drove past.
The old man saw me passing and something must have clicked inside of him. He sprang from his car using my truck as a pick and darted across the alley much quicker than ever seen a retiree move at 8am.
His destination?
The corner bar.
Posted by calculatoronfire at 01:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 12, 2005
Removing the Doors
My tenants still haven't moved out.
They begged me to let them stay until the 15th of October, and I acquiesced. I'm a push-over. I know this. They haven't paid rent in months and I keep letting it slide. I must be a tenant's dream. A landlord that never makes his tenant pay.
But I couldn't legally kick them out until 60 days after I gave them notice.
When day sixty was nearing I went to the courthouse to get the forms I needed.
I actually could have kicked them out for two reasons 1) failure to pay rent, and 2) holding over, or staying in the house after I told them to get the hell out.
The problem is, on the forms I'm required to enter my lead-free certification number.
I ain't got one.
And I'm sure that the lead paint scattered around the house isn't my only legal infraction.
So I can't legally kick them out because I'm illegally renting the house to them. That's just great. Especially since they were renting the house when I bought it at the slumlord convention.
Really, I should have known it was too good to be true.
I saw that my neighbor's house was up for auction. There was a huge sign duct taped to the front of the house advertising the time and date, and the web site for more information.
I went to the web site and saw that they were auctioning off over a dozen houses around highlandtown, my neighborhood, that day. So I took the day off work and went to a couple of the earlier auctions; my neighbor's house was the last one on the block.
During the day I saw a bunch of different slum lords trading tips on how to bilk their tenants out of more and more of the little cash they have.
"Windows? You get new windows? I never get new windows unless I have to."
"What if the window's broken when they're moving in?"
"Pin it on them. You're 'letting them move in early, so they'll have to fix it.' Or some shit like that."
"Don't dry-wall it. There's this tape -- comes in big sheets -- use that. Take it out of their security deposit if they bust through that and want it fixed."
I got a little sick of the depravity and left for a while, but I decided to go to the second to last auction just down the street, so I'd know for sure when the fleet of BMWs would arrive at my neighbor's house.
I went inside that house, just for a look inside. I was inhabited, but covered with cob webs. It stunk like cat piss. the yard was covered with overgrown with small trees and filled with trash. I had to pass the couple that lived there to get to the back door. They cowered in the kitchen as the parade of prospective owners went through their pitful little row house.
The skeletal little man sleeping on a cot upstairs didn't seem to mind. In fact, he didn't stir. I actually thought he might have been dead -- he looked almost like a high school science skeleton dressed in clothes, except those skeletons don't have liver spots -- until I saw him hobbling around on his cane as the slumlords gathered outside to begin bidding on his house.
That's when I noticed the fleas. I giggled at first when I noticed some of the slumlords scratching and slapping of the fleas. I chuckled to myself as they announced they had fleas and I examined myself finding none.
Then I started to itch.
Then I saw the fleas. Hundreds of them. They covered my legs. When I tried to slap them away they crawled up onto my arms. I tried to keep my cool and flail like hell at the same time.
I decided if I drove around on my motorcycle the wind might blow them off.
but I couldn't drive that fast and scratch at the same time. Besides I had to be back to bid on my neighbor's house. And I had to be there early. I wasn't going to bid over $25,000.
And even though I was the top bidder I didn't bid over $25,000.
So I became a slum lord.
I tried to be better than a slum lord, but I didn't get a lot of help from my tenants.
So come the 15th I'm resorting to a trick I picked up at the convention.
I'm taking the doors off the hinges.
Posted by calculatoronfire at 01:53 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
October 10, 2005
Prolly Not Exciting
This weekend Emma and I left the dogs in their new house in my back yard and headed down to her dad's house.
Once there we decided her baby brother would be excellent crabbing bait. We wanted to use him, but, alas, his mother objected.
We caught a mess of crabs even without his help.
Posted by calculatoronfire at 07:24 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 05, 2005
Eviction
Last night -- for perhaps the first time in my life -- my dad called me.
Not that I've never spoken to him on the phone before. I have. It's just that either I've called my parents or my mom has called me. My dad has never, to the best of my recollection, called me until last night.
He called when I was taking a break from watching "Some Kind of Monster" with Emma and one of the first things he asked was what I was doing.
"Watching a Metallica video."
"Metallica video. I didn't know you like them."
"I don't Emma just wanted to watch it."
"Is it any good?"
"No. It's awful."
"Then why are you watching it?"
I told my dad I was watching the movie because Emma wanted me to watch it with her and theat even if I didn't like Metallica or the movie it took up less than 2 hours of my life.
"Be careful. That's how they get you."
"What? Making you watch movies?"
"Your mother and I went to a movie the first time we went out."
It was the first time I'd ever heard him say anything about when the two of them had met. I'd never asked and he'd never volunteered any information. I'd never asked my mother about how they met either, but she'd told me a thing or two. I seem to recall that he asked her out and she went out with him because he had a Bible in his back pocket. I have no idea why he would have ever carried a Bible unless perhaps he was using the pages to rolling joints, but she claimed he was carrying one.
"I should have cut my dick off with a bayonet right then."
"What?"
"A bayonet."
"You should have 'cut your dick off' with bayonet?"
"Or a fucking butcher knife. A pocket knife."
"Oh."
"Or just gnawed the shit off myself. It would have saved me some trouble."
We went on to talk about my neighbors.
"Have they moved out yet?"
"No. They refuse to move out. They claim they don't have anywhere to live."
"Fuck them. Kick them out on the street."
"I can't just kick them out though."
"You told them to leave and they didn't. Throw their shit on the street."
True. I did tell them to leave and they didn't. They're over 3 months behind on their rent and don't seem to show any interest in paying for the house they find so comfortable. Unfortunately in order to legally kick them out of the house I have to get a judge to kick them out.
I told them in July I wouldn't renew their lease and they'd have to be out September 1st. But they didn't leave. They begged me to let them stay longer, at least until the older woman living in the house got her lump-sum pension check. Something she anticipated coming in the first week of September.
So in mid September I asked them if they were going to be out on the 15th.
"You want us out? When are we supposed be out? Why don't you give us a date?"
"Are you serious? Your lease is up. It was up on the first -- two weeks ago. I told you to get out and you're still here."
"Well, you only gave us 15 days notice."
"I gave you two months notice."
"Well, why don't you just give us a date you want us gone."
I went home and drew up a note that said something to the effect of I know I must be out of the house before 1 October or there will be legal consequences. I went back over and made the woman sign the paper. "Ok. Now you know the date."
"Ok. I just want you to know I'm not mad of nufin'. I think you've been a good landlord and you've helped us out a lot more than any other landlord would. I ain't mad at you ... but all the neighbors are."
"Oh, they are? Tell you what, I don't care."
Furniture started again to pile up in their back yard and more and more filled the trash cans in the alley. I was almost convinced they were moving out.
Then came the last week of September. Every time the neighbors saw me coming they retreated to their house to avoid talking to me.
I was gone last weekend, at my cousin's wedding, and on the way back turned to Emma. "I bet they're still in the house."
Sure enough, they were. When they saw me pull up they all got up off the lawn chairs they keep permanently in front and hurried inside. All except the woman's son.
He met me at my car and told me that they can't move out. That there isn't a single other house in the city of Baltimore they can rent until the 15th of October. That I can't kick them out without an eviction notice from a judge.
Well, I guess I'll be taking time off work this week to get that eviction order.
Posted by calculatoronfire at 10:00 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
October 03, 2005
Back Woods Virginia
This weekend my cousin got married in North Carolina. It would probably have been about a 8 1/2 to 9 hour drive if I would have driven straight there, but I went with Emma and we stopped at her mom's house somewhere in the middle of swampland Virginia.
We stopped there on Friday night and left early Saturday morning for the wedding in Wilmington. We passed field after field of cotton, but after a short time we came across a village just big enough to have a name on the map - Capron.
Capron looked to me to be little more than a couple churches, an apartment building freshly burned to the ground and a feed store.
Though the apartment building was in rubble and still smoldering a bit it was the feed store that really caught my eye and commanded my attention.
Some time in the past the store expanded into their current location usingthe old store across the street only for storage.
Storage and a visible display of bigotry.
We were zooming through the town when out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the word "colored" above one of the doors. Holy shit! I thought. Is that for real?
I looked back and sure enough, over one door was "colored" and over the other door "white."
"Stop! I've got to get a picture of this."
"What?"
"Just stop!"
"Why?"
"The door says 'colored' above it. Go back."
I got my camera ready, but as we turned back to the parking lot in front of the old feed store I noticed a few farmers and feed store employees sitting on the loading dock of the new store across the street.
"Get in closer."
"Why?"
"I've got to get a clear picture."
"Just get out of the car."
I didn't want to get out of the car. I'd seen "Deliverance."
I'm not saying I was afraid of being forced to squeel like a piggy, but I was a little un easy. Here I was someone from out-of-state (granted only Maryland) with a camera at the ready to document the town's backwards ways. I thought there could be a chance they'd be a little defensive.
Fortunately I got this photo off without a hitch:
Posted by calculatoronfire at 06:56 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack