I came home last week to find a HUGE, fuck-off branch in the bush in front of my house. On the ground, there were some lovely shards of glass from the top right corner of the picture window I have (I'm calling it a "picture window" because it sounds fancy, and the duplex I live in is anything but fancy, but I don't want to call it the "super cheap, but still made of glass instead of plastic even though the glass is 100 years old" window).
It had been storming worse than normal that day, and I guess the branch was first chewed to a breaking point by evil squirrels, in preparation for some upcoming battle, and then aimed poorly and launched into the window. Picture window, I mean. So I did what any responsible tenant would do. I called my creepy, potentially a serial killer of a landlord.
He had all kinds of questions (a lot of them I had to answer with the phrase, "I wasn't home when it happened, so I'm not sure,"). And then the questions became somewhat rude. "Well, did the branch of the tree just, um, fall directly into the window?" What the hell do you say to that? "No, actually the neighbors put up a trampoline, and a complicated system of pulleys and levers, and the branch fell into the bush, which was strangely coated with springs that must have bounced it into the pulleys and levers that pulled some mouse-trap type shit and caused the branch to land on the trampoline, where it was catapulted into the window. Clearly. Why would you even ask me that? You're the one who leased the front yard to the guys from Spy vs. Spy." Jerk.
He told me that he and his maintenance man, Willy, would come look at the window the next day and decide what to do about it (by the way, with my landlord being as old and bizarre as he is, I wouldn't be surprised if Willy was a cliche, darling old black man that calls the landlord Guv'nah and does his bidding. Like a mix between the stereotypical oppressed slave and a chimney sweep from old school London). Well, the note I was left after Landlord and Willy's initial inspection basically said, "Fuck you, you're full of shit, you clearly broke this window and don't want to pay the $35 for two single panes of glass and a caulk gun to fix it, you're a liar and I'll take an extra $50 added to your rent check this month, thank you."
Um, excuse me? Because I CLEARLY went outside with a ladder, bashed in the window (because according to the glass and where it fell, it wasn't broken from the inside), went looking for a giant dead branch, placed said branch in the bushes, and then decided to CALL YOU instead of fixing it myself, because I thought it would be funny?
You know what? That's totally what happened. Fucking asshole.
Landlord = Fuckface.
ReplyDeleteDo you, umm, have his address you could post? Or, umm, email? Or something? Because, umm, it could turn into a lot of fun... as long as you're not him :D
See, that's just it.... His rent money is mailed to a P.O. Box in Decatur. And I don't even know if he has a computer at all, or if he just sends Willy to go look in that magic, voodoo intranet box and keep him posted. I know his first and last name, though, so I'm sure he could be tracked down somehow. But I'd just as soon not give him anymore reason to murder me in my sleep (reason #1 being that he's totally bizarre and weird, though it isn't an actual reason... just an observation).
ReplyDeleteFabulous reading!!! . . . . .But get that 'ole coot's butt out there to fix that window!!! It doesn't sound like he's competent enough to own property, let alone rent it out. What's happening to this world????
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