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So, I recently moved into a new house on "Business Loop" -- it's this white-trash / Mexican part of town. Lots of porchin-around. My house is located behind this run-down strip club called "Hoot-n-Nanny's." So, besides having quick access to $1 Stags and cheap "thrills" 24 hours a day, I also live 6 doors down from an Auto Zone, a Sonic, and a Dairy Queen . . . a fat, black man's paradise.
Anyway, the other day my roommate was taking a shower upstairs. Well, as she was showering, she looked down at the drain (as most of us do) only to discover a USED SYRINGE floating up through the grate. And don't think it was just the syringe -- oh, no -- it was fully-equipped with a fresh needle as well. Disgusted, she alerted me of the "situation," and we were forced to call my landlord to fix it. My landlord looks like this:
Did I mention his name is "Rocky"? Let me tell you a little bit about Rocky. When we moved in we found a closet in which he'd obviously been growing pot. Every time I've seen him, he's full of energy and WON'T STOP TALKING. His eyes bug out of his head and he's always sweating and pacing around. He LOST my deposit check five minutes after I gave it to him. He's always talking to his "diddy" (daddy) about "what he should do." He has 4 lawn mowers in the backyard. He explained to me that he kept breaking mirrors in the upstairs bathroom -- I have never broken a mirror that's hanging on a wall, so I'm guessing he was either (a) taking it down to cut coke on or (b) taking it down so he could watch his own penis penetrate his strung-out girlfriend. In a nutshell, this guy's probably a maniac.
Because none of us were particularly excited about explaining the Syringe Situation to him, we drew straws.
I lost.
I called him and explained the situation delicately, but firmly. I could hear Rocky on the other line making really nervous and paranoid noises. He kept repeating over and over again about how his last roommate was a diabetic. Oddly enough, he didn't have a roommate -- he lived here alone -- and his bedroom was upstairs -- WHERE THE SYRINGE WAS FOUND. Anyway, I could care less if he was shooting heroin or steroids in the shower -- I just wanted him to clean it up.
So, after listening to some obvious lie about how his former diabetic roommate who lived in the master bedroom put his needles down the shower drain (???!), I just agreed with him, made a light joke, and got off the phone. Rocky agreed to take care of it. Everything was fine. I hung up the phone and tossed it to my roommate.
She put the phone in her purse.
About this time, I go on a rampage about what a "lying body-building motherfucker" Rocky seems to be. About how he's a "fucking crazy junkie" who obviously knows nothing about diabetes. Then, I decided to bring up the mirror situation and how "the only way he broke TWO mirrors in one bathroom is from cutting coke . . . I'm glad our landlord's a crackhead." After about 10 minutes of ranting, my roommate's phone rings.
It's Rocky.
Rocky: You calling me?
Roommate: Uh . . . we did.
Rocky: Well, my phone was ringing and I picked it up and no one was there.
Roommate: Oh . . .
Rocky: So, I just started listening -- for ten minutes I listened to you guys laughing.
Roommate: What?
Rocky: What's all this "body-building motherfucker" stuff?
Roommate: Look, Rocky . . .
Rocky: My roommate was diabetic, you know.
Roommate: Rocky, we were just--
Rocky: You think I'm a crackhead?!! Huh!
Roommate: Rocky, we don't want any hard feelings, we just want the shower fixed and th--
Rocky: Well, you guys just have your fun. Just have your fucking fun over there! I'll be over there tomorrow, but I'm going to kick you ass!
(click)
Apparently, when I tossed my roommate the phone, it redialed. Rocky heard everything.
Scared shitless, we all left the house and didn't sleep there that night. The next day, the syringe was gone and our stuff was still there. It's been about 4 days and we haven't been hacked to pieces yet . . .
. . . I guess we'll see.
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