The Zellbaca Chronicles

The Crackwhore

 

Around October or so of last year, the upstairs apartment in the quadra-plex in which Tony and I dwell was rented. The first time seeing them, we were getting the TV and whatnot to go watch football in the woods (that’s a whole ‘nother Chronicle). We saw them moving in, at least it seemed to be “them”. I guess it was just the one chick, but I digress. No big deal, right? It sucked that we couldn’t be all loud anymore, but whatever.

Almost immediately, the burden of their existence was apparent. Their friends’ cars would be parked in our spaces. They would stay up 24 hours a goddamn day, most likely from the meth I can only assume they cooked. I could hear the sick bitches screwing, for hell’s sake.

They quickly began asking us to borrow stuff. A drill, a phone, one night she even woke up Tony so he could help her break back into her apartment after she locked the key inside. He was also repeatedly asked to change the setting on the water heater. Which he did. And she was still a bitch.

A little later, it became evident that there was an illegal dog up there. It liked to howl and cry until all hours of the morning, keeping Tony awake and me annoyed. Cigarette smoke quickly began emanating from the air ducts and holes in the walls. Loud “hip-hop” also plagued the building.

I apologize for the tangent, but... hip-hop? What the fuck is a hip-hop? Are you people telling me that all I need to be rich and successful is to be black, have fake teeth, and say “uh huh, yeah... yeah, uh huh” over a redundant artificial bass drum beat? Really... there are few things I can stand for less time than that trash. If I’ve offended you, go fuck yourself. <3

Tony’s main problem, however, was that our garbage receptacle was constantly filled with white-trash trash. So, when Tony decided to put ONE of our bags of garbage in her container, it appeared on our doorstep the next morning. Peculiar, indeed. She also had a very unhealthy obsession with making sure we took our one-bag-filled can to the curb on garbage day.

Well, today, May 4, 2006, this all came to a climax. Upon waking up in the wee hours of the afternoon (i.e.- 4:30pm), I noted a note taped to the wall. This looked familiar. Many times before we’d received illegible crack-whore scribbles adhered to our door via masking tape. I assumed Tony had brought it inside.

Upon reading it, I was informed that the property managers had been called and we were to move our vehicles immediately, or be towed, because, apparently, she had more right to park there. Now, this seemed fishy. But I was sleepy and had to go to work in 15 minutes. I quickly transcribed all the bullshit she had pulled, and how I was beyond perturbed by this bullshittery. This document was left on her door, and I drove to work.

Upon arriving home, her fat ass was outside sweeping up some shit, for some reason. She ignored me as I slammed my Camaro door and went downstairs to grab the keys to my truck to move it.

“Ya know, if you have a fucking problem with me, you come talk to me instead of taking it to the property managers,” I spewed forth with bile in my tone.

Apparently, she made no such call. Just as I had suspected. She then made a few baseless comments about how horrible of neighbors WE are.

Well, it’s probably true, at this point. By about December, we were sick and goddamn tired of her crap. Turning down the stereo, being quite at night. Fuck it!

Oh, and apparently, my washer and drier are the main culprits. Such audacity I have to think I need to WASH my clothes! I’m such a dick!

At any rate, she divulged that she was “joking” about calling the manager. Apparently, “joking” means “lied to try to get you to do what I want you to do without being civil and asking”. She also informed that she’ll be leaving in a month. Alright!

Although, our lease is up at the end of this month also, and since our property was sold halfway through our tenancy, the new owners no longer have to honor or previous agreement. This could range from raising the rent to flat out kicking us out. But that shall have to wait for another Chronicle in the life of Zellbaca.