Thursday, October 20, 2005
The Mystery of the Former Resident
I have no idea who the dude is that used to live in my apartment -- I hear his name is Dee -- but he was up to shit of one type or another. And then he booked and didn't tell anyone.
In the thirteen days of my tenancy at this apartment, I have received three callers for Dee. The first one came late the night after I moved in. It was about eleven p.m. and the doorbell hadn't rung, so when there came a rap on my door, I assumed it was the landlady. I tiptoed to the door in my short green nightgown and peeked through the spyhole. "It's me!" a fortyish man was saying. "It's Pete."
Pete is also the name of the building's owner, a gentleman I had not yet met at this time, so I decided to open the door just a crack. "Yes?" I said.
"Hey, Therese sent me over. Can I come in?"
"What?"
"I'm Therese's buddy! She sent me over here."
"...What?"
"Wait, did you just move in here?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, sorry." Dude turned and left.
Okay, that's not that big a deal. Whatever. But then, a few nights later, at about the same time, the doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone and didn't want a repeat of the Pete/Therese incident, so I let it ring twice more. I remained planted in my chair. Anyone that I would want to see had my cell number and would surely call if they needed something that urgently.
Then I heard a ruckus from outside. "Yeah, tell him!" a woman shouted. "You go up there and tell him I want my PlayStation right now or I'm going to the fucking cops and they're going to go in there and get it for me!"
So what I learned from the first incident is that Dee most likely sells drugs. From the second, I learned he's got ex-girlfriend issues. The third encounter leaves me mystified, however.
A couple of nights ago, the doorbell rang. Again, I was expecting nobody. This time, though, I had the foresight to lean out the window; I wanted to get a glimpse of the PlayStation chick if it were she. Instead, it was two boys between ten and twelve years old.
"Can I help you?"
"Dee home?"
"There's no Dee here."
"Dee home?"
"No one lives here by that name."
"DEE."
"THERE'S NO DEE HERE."
"Aw, shit," one boy remarked to the other. "He move and don't tell us."
Indeed, it seems as though Dee left without a trace. But what did these children want with him?
In the thirteen days of my tenancy at this apartment, I have received three callers for Dee. The first one came late the night after I moved in. It was about eleven p.m. and the doorbell hadn't rung, so when there came a rap on my door, I assumed it was the landlady. I tiptoed to the door in my short green nightgown and peeked through the spyhole. "It's me!" a fortyish man was saying. "It's Pete."
Pete is also the name of the building's owner, a gentleman I had not yet met at this time, so I decided to open the door just a crack. "Yes?" I said.
"Hey, Therese sent me over. Can I come in?"
"What?"
"I'm Therese's buddy! She sent me over here."
"...What?"
"Wait, did you just move in here?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, sorry." Dude turned and left.
Okay, that's not that big a deal. Whatever. But then, a few nights later, at about the same time, the doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone and didn't want a repeat of the Pete/Therese incident, so I let it ring twice more. I remained planted in my chair. Anyone that I would want to see had my cell number and would surely call if they needed something that urgently.
Then I heard a ruckus from outside. "Yeah, tell him!" a woman shouted. "You go up there and tell him I want my PlayStation right now or I'm going to the fucking cops and they're going to go in there and get it for me!"
So what I learned from the first incident is that Dee most likely sells drugs. From the second, I learned he's got ex-girlfriend issues. The third encounter leaves me mystified, however.
A couple of nights ago, the doorbell rang. Again, I was expecting nobody. This time, though, I had the foresight to lean out the window; I wanted to get a glimpse of the PlayStation chick if it were she. Instead, it was two boys between ten and twelve years old.
"Can I help you?"
"Dee home?"
"There's no Dee here."
"Dee home?"
"No one lives here by that name."
"DEE."
"THERE'S NO DEE HERE."
"Aw, shit," one boy remarked to the other. "He move and don't tell us."
Indeed, it seems as though Dee left without a trace. But what did these children want with him?
