is why you DONíT help people...
i am minding my own business scanning some things at my friends
house when i hear the doorbell ring. Joe had left an hour
ago, to run some errands leaving me in charge of the empty
house. i assumed it was him at the door with something
heavy or he had locked himself out...no problem.
open the door to see a weathered skinny old (late 50s)
white guy, stubbly, not dressed poorly exactly.
he asks "is that your truck" i get asked this a lot
usually followed by "cause it's in my way" "it's
on fire" or the ever popular "it's leaking
something". i sigh and drop my shoulders ready to be lectured
by someone who looks like Roy Rodgers' sidekick
"yes". he then in a relieved and excited fashion
tells me he needs help moving some furnature, stuff to big for
him to handle alone, that he has no one to help him, and that he
HAS to move today or his things are going to get thrown out,
and that he'll pay me twenty bucks.
am about to reply "well, good luck" and slam the door
when it dawns on me that i may be looking at my own dark sad
future. old white guy who either has no friends or whos
friends have grown tired of helping him with his hairbrained
schemes, no wife, no kids to help him, desperate to move a
collection of crap from one shabby apartment to another. i sigh
again...okay future Doug, let's go move your crap.
only have an hour"
that's great. i just need to move the big stuff...i HAVE to move
out today my landlord threatened to call the cops"
my head-dear Lord, i know i'm not a good person, but please
spare me this sorry fate.
get to his apartment and it became a Sanford and son version of
the ghost of Christmas past...his worldly possessions were worth
to the REST of the world about 5.65 cumulative. in drawer no. 1
was a shoe box of half used pencils, a half a dozen dress shirts
still in the cellophane bag (it dawns on me here that he is
whereing a dress shirt just like them, like a crazy ass charlie
brown...with OCD) then i see the mattress...clearly this man
DOES NOT have OCD. there is a stain on it that could only
come from performing an exorcism on a small dog and losing to it
the dark side.
my head-Dear Lord...don't let him ask m to move the-
really need to move the bed!"
my head-Look God just cause i didn't say it out in time doesn't
mean anything...you knew what i was gonna ask for!
ten minutes of trying to convince him that his other stuff was
more valuable, i gave up. luckily i had my wielding gloves
in the truck (which i have since thrown away) and the mattress
was from like a child's bed so i was able to carry it off
without it ever touching my skin...although i imagined a demonic
stain demon mist hovering over me and i prayed the rosary in my
head to keep it away.
load the bed, a dresser, three boxes of crap that makes my crap
look like it should be in the Smithsonian and get ready to drive
wait i left the door unlocked!"
CONCERNED HIM EVEN THOUGH NO ONE FROM EVEN THE MOST POVERTY
STRICKEN THIRD WORLD COUNTRY WOULD STeaL THE STUFF THAT HE
DEEMED MOST IMPORTANT...much less the stuff we left behind for
some other time. but he marched up to the apartment
complex and realized, that while his apartment door was
unlocked..the door to the complex WAS locked. that's right
he locked himself out and forgot to lock his door at the same
time....it IS me in the future. while he goes around
banging on windows for someone to let him in i now rest my head
on the steering wheel and beads of sweat form i concentrate so
my head- Lord, no, please no, i can change, i'll be a better
person, i'll learn how to forgive, and i'll be friendly, and
i'll throw away junk and not fight with my nieghbors, i'll visit
my family...please don't let me end up like this.
doug returns after getting a old angry latin woman to open the
door and off we go. while giving me directions he relays a
vague story about why he has to move so quickly that sounds more
and more like something that would happen to me...finally we
come to a block with three apartment complexes on it
here, this is the place...i hope"
right he said " i
hope" now if this
were any other bum you would assume that meant he wasn't sure
which of the three was his new place...but nope, this is me in
30 years and "i hope" means -the world has passed me by
and i don't understand that you need a credit check, background
check, security deposit before you move in. and that IS
what "i hope" meant.
landlady marches out with him in tow desperately gasping
"BUT i have to move here, my landlord said i have to go! i
have to move in TODAY" there is a long
discussion/argument after which i wonder who is more crazy him,
or the landlord who kept trying to explain "credit
check" to a 50 year old man who's worldly possesions all
fit in the back of a truck.
he tries a different angle, he now tries to convince her the
credit check will be fine but in the meantime he needs to put
his stuff inside...again the answer is no...and NO you may not
leave it on the corner.
my head-Lord please...send me some vodka
to his apartment we go as he tries to get his head around the
fact that you can't just live off of cash and a handshake
anymore (a horrfying parrallel to the fact that i can't
understand how computer art programs work...at least he kept up
until 50 something, the world's passing me by in my early
drop him off, carry his stuff back up to his apartment, oh and
of course some hot high school girls happened to walk by as
unloaded the dirty mattress, and of course he was not around and
so it looked like it was MY dirty mattress...might as well go
with it...i nodded my head at them and in my most lecherious
voice said " how's it going ladies"
advise future Doug as i left that he should contact the sheriff
it is illeagle for the landlord to just throw him in the
street...my uncle is a landlord and it is nigh impossible to get
ride of a bad tenant in the state of wisconsin....and that i'm
sure the teenage girls are sending the cops so..ask them when
they get here.
not too late! the spirits did it all in one night!"
dickens a Christmas Carol