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Adventures In Living With The Mythical |
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A military veteran is adopted by a werewolf and brought into his pack. Insanity ensues. About "Life With A Werewolf" Life with a werewolf is a dramatic blog. As such the characters in this blog are not real but maybe loosely based on real people. The situations represented are not real but maybe loosely based on real things that have happened in my life. There are a multitude of ways to view life, this is simply one of the ways I have chosen to view mine. Updated Every Friday unless I can't or don't want to. If this is your first time reading this...start here: https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1040400-Welcome-To-The-Pack First compilation book will be available soon on Amazon. My book, "Dreamers of The Sea" is available now on Amazon: https://a.co/d/0uz7xa3 |
| Everyone could feel the fight brewing. This wasn't going to be a simple neighborly spat. The kind where we come in, say a mean comment, and leave before the cake is sliced and everyone talks shit about each other behind our backs. No. This fight was brewing up to be a knock down, drag out Christmas Eve fight. The kind of fight that destroys Christmas gatherings. The type of fights the police end up knowing everyone by name for. Judith pulled me into a conspiratorial whisper. "What happened between them," she asked. Denise and Crash were still glaring at each other. I knew they could hear us in the kitchen so I just gave Judith a simple shrug and whispered back "We'll probably find out. Don't pry too much." I had hoped she would take the hint. "So," Crash said loudly. A bit too loudly. "Are you still in horticulture? Perhaps doing any extracurricular gardening?" "No, I swear," Denise said back. A hint of fear and anger in her voice. "I haven't been doing any of that. I don't seem to find the time anymore. Darin keeps me pretty busy." Before we could hear anymore, Darin came storming out of the garage. "No dad! Denise isn't like that!" He rounded the corner and glared at Crash. "And she doesn't need any flea-bitten cop wannabe harassing her. You got a problem? Get a warrant. Come on Denise." Crash had that mischievous glint in his eye. "Goodbye Denise. Or should I say, Clara Gartner." Everyone in the house stopped at that moment and turned to look at Denise. Everyone but me. A look of horror washed over Judith's face. Me? I was just surprised. "Who?" Denise snarled at Crash, fur bristling on her arms. "Oh, Fuck you," she snarled, shoving Crash backwards. He giggled, landing on his back foot and coming forward again. Fur had grown down his arms, and his fingers were starting to form claws. "Okay, okay," I shouted. Raising my hands I stepped between them. "Before we destroy someone's house, why don't we all take a deep breath. Explain what's going on. And tell it like we've never heard this story before." "Clara Gartner's dead, Crash, I told you that," She snarled, pointing a finger at him. Her head horns were beginning to show. A muzzle was forming on her face. "I made a mistake, and damn it I paid for it! Isn't losing my home enough?! You have to take my love, too?!" Crash had a muzzle forming on his face as well. It wouldn't be long before we were standing in a warzone. "I want to know, Clara, if you're up to your usual bullshit, or if you're truly done! You know what I'm supposed to do if I ever saw you again!" Darin stepped in front of Denise, holding his arms out. "You'll have to go through me." I looked at Darin. "That's sweet. And a good way to get a concussion for free. If you're lucky. Step away." Darin glared at me. "I don't know you. I know him and her. You step away before I hurt you." I laughed. Even Crash blinked at my laugh. It was a dark laugh, something you'd hear a Saturday morning villain give. "Oh, son. I'm going to do your parents a favor and pretend I didn't hear you say that." I looked over at Crash and said "Start talking." It was Denise who began. "I made a mistake. I paid for it. I lost my house, my job, my life..." Crash laughed. "Your job was literally selling poison to humans. You're lucky you didn't get killed." She snarled. "It wasn't to humans! I was selling to werewolves, minotaurs, creatures to who could partake and enjoy the high, not to humans. How was I to know!" What shook me about all of this, was that Darin wasn't. These revelations appeared as if it was something he had already known. He kept glaring at Crash, kept his hands held out like he's trying to stop traffic. "Denise, you don't owe that asshole anything. He has no probable cause. Come on." He even tried to grab her shoulder. Crash looked at her and said "You better explain things to him or I will. He won't like how I'm gonna do it." She sighed and touched Darin's shoulder. "We don't get those kinds of rights, Darin. It's different for us different creatures." She glared at Crash. "But I literally have done nothing! You have no right to threaten me or attack me here." Judith stepped in the middle at this moment along with Gary. "Now this has gone on far enough!" She glared at Denise first. "You can't sit at a table like that. Shrink back down proper, now." Gary glared at Crash. "I didn't ask you over here to destroy my home! Get to normal, and lets eat!" We all made our way towards a dining room table near the back of the house beyond the kitchen. Darin grabbed his father and growled in his ear where he didn't think I could hear it. "Why did you invite them? To interrogate Denise? Or to change my mind?" Gary's face went sheet white for a moment. "I'm just trying to protect us all." The table was set. Burgers in the middle with dogs, buns on either side. Toppings was within easy reach and passed around. A large bowl of french fries too. Ketchup, mustard, mayo. The table was topped with a vinyl cloth that would be easy to wipe clean. The room was a normal size, but felt smaller due to Crash and Denise both rather large sizes. Judith tried to set them away from each other, but the table wasn't big enough to separate them too far. We all sat down, me next to Crash, Darin next to Denise. With Judith and Gary on opposite sides of course. This meant I was across from Denise, and Darin across from Crash. There was more than enough snarls to go around, with all of us staring at our empty plates or the food, no one looking at each other. Gary started us off in a prayer of sorts. "Why don't we all go around the table and name one thing we're thankful for. I'll start. I'm thankful for the wonderful food, my son, his new fiance, Judith and our understanding neighbors." Next it was Denise's turn. "I'm thankful for everyone sitting here," she said. Darin glared at Crash one last time and said "I'm thankful for Denise, and my parents." It came around to Judith who said "I'm thankful for peace." Then it came around to me. I was trying to lighten the mood. I swear I was. Given the circumstances it was the exact wrong thing to say at the exact wrong time. I am many things, but smart in this kind of a crowd of people is not one of them. I opened my mouth and gave a smile. "I'm glad Denise didn't grow any of the vegetables." Darin snarled at me, Crash suppressed a giggle, and Denise sighed. I didn't see the responses of the other two, but that set the ball rolling. "Well, I'll have you know," she said, "I have a very green thumb. I'm pretty good at growing vegetables." "Most minotaur's do," Crash said. She glared at Crash. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Crash sighed. "It's your religion, 'Denise' what the hell do you think it means?" She stood, and snarled "I think it means it's about time I gored ya." I stood and shouted "ALRIGHT! It was a joke! I'm sorry, just a joke! Trying to lighten the mood! I didn't mean anything by it! Please sit down, let's calm down." Darin grabbed Denise for a moment and left the room. Judith and Gary did likewise, having some sort of family discussion. I turned to Crash and asked "Are you being too hard on her?" He whispered "she indirectly poisoned a fourteen year old child. One of her associates was reselling her crop. She claimed she didn't intend for him to do that. I had to kill her associate and banish her. The child she almost killed just barely made it out of the coma six weeks later." I swallowed hard. "Oh." When Darin returned with his head down, and his fists balled up. He forced himself to unclench them, and took a deep breath. "For everyone's peace of mind. I am aware of Denise's past. She's very apologetic, and I, for one, believe her. Though we don't worship the same God, I allow her to do her work in the garden, and she comes to church with me on Sunday. Every year, she makes a deposit in that child's name to a bank account. The kid thinks they have some sort of college scholarship. Now, are we ready to put this behind us? Please?" We all looked at each other. There was a period of silence. Crash looked at Denise as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. She snarled at him. "I want a peaceful meal. But, mutt, you have insulted me for the last time. After dinner, me and you, outside." I had one hot dog, one hamburger, a plate of fries, and a slice of delicious Devil's food cake to attempt to convince Denise and Crash not to fight. Cause I knew if they did fight, something inside the family, and our neighborly friendship, would be damaged forever. |
| It was warm for about four days in our area. So, I'd hoped for grilling for about five seconds or so. But alas, the weather seemed to laugh at my intentions and gave us more of it's unwanted dandruff. The cold blanket of snow covered everything, making grilling the frozen dream of a madman. Live in the north for more than a year and you won't be dreaming of a white Christmas, you'll be dreaming of warmth. Still, Gary had intended a simple meal. Hamburgers, hot dogs, french fries. Soda and beer. Nothing too terribly complicated and nothing that me or Crash was going to complain about. We'd arrived at the given time for the get together with smiles and root beer. Root beer because when everyone else goes for a beer, it gives me one of my own to grab. Usually a Barq's but sometimes an A&W. Root beer lets me have a 'cold one with the boys' still, but without the alcohol. I don't even miss the alcohol. Well, miss it as much, in truth. And in truth, I wanted to be sober for this entire ordeal. Gary himself was pleasant. Almost jittery to be honest. He greeted us with smiles, a nervous handshake and a quiet grimace hidden beneath everything. His conversation was too fast, as if he was attempting to cover for something. "I'm glad you could make it, boy, I sure hope you guys are doing okay. Say, Jason, how's that car running, you take care of those plug wires like I told ya? Yeah, I looked into getting a new clock for it, I think I have one cheaper than you can get on those collector site...." On and on and on. Many times he didn't stop to wait for me to answer questions, just barreled right across it onto the next statement. Gary's wife Judith was pleasant. An older woman with a nice smile, welcoming laugh and the disposition that makes you feel as though she'll be in the kitchen at any moment to bake you fresh cookies. She stood with Gary part of the party, went to grab things for the other part, and well, was in general a good hostess. The house had an open floor plan. It was the type of place where you could stand in the living room and insult the person cooking, and they could throw a biscuit at you from the stove and smack you in the back of the head with it. It was outfitted with older style furniture that reminded me of grandma's good couch from back in the day. Family photos hung in antique looking gold leafed frames. Vacations taken together. Marriages, graduations. The typical family affair. All in all, it was a nice home where under other circumstances I'd have felt normal being inside of. But with the looking possible fight on the horizon, it felt more like stepping into the octagon at the start of a UFC match. We were welcomed with wide open arms and smiles. Darin and his fiance' hadn't arrived yet. Judith, trying to be the loving host, stepped inside the kitchen and pulled me aside. "Does Crash have any um...special diet restrictions?" I blinked at her. "Like what?" "Well," she wrung her hands for a moment. "Does he need to eat more meat, or special meat, or maybe...." The thought I had was this: virgins. The younger the better. In fact, if you could get the Mormon tabernacle choir over, he'll tear through four of those young singers in about five seconds, then the rest of us will be safe. I didn't say this, mind you, but I did think it. You see? Progress. Either I'm growing up, or I'm growing tame. Instead I told her "no ma'am, he'll be fine with just about whatever you set out." Then as an after thought I added "don't worry, he's house broken." This got me an 'oh dear' look that I've come to recognize. I suppressed a giggle and walked away before any other trouble could occur from the conversation. I only had so much self control and what little I did have was slipping. You see, I did have a couple of jokes I could have played on crash. "Extra bloody, in fact, just scorch the hamburger on both sides and give it to him." Or, "Actually, he's going vegan. You got a black bean burger back there? He adores those." Come to think of it, the black bean burger joke would have backfired on me when he got home later on. Knowing Crash, he'd have stunk us out of the house. So, maybe it was a good thing I didn't say that. After small talk had been passed around like the plate of deviled eggs that Judith had made, a familiar wash of headlights covered the house. Judith looked at Gary, then said "looks like Darin is here, dear. Why don't you go put some burgers on the indoor grill?" Gary stepped into his garage with barely a grumble. Crash and I didn't look at each other when this happened, but I knew we were both thinking the same thing: recent bad blood. Darin when he stepped inside the house, was all smiles. Darin was a younger version of Gary. Full head of hair, brilliant wide smile, no glasses. He was only about an inch shorter than me. Which I point out because his fiance Denise was almost six inches taller than him. She was pleasant, shook everyone's hand and in general a nice person. And I could tell right away, that she wasn't human. Thing is though, if they don't have some sort of glamour, some sort of disguise that the other mythicals use, then I don't have anything to see through. So, appearance wise, she just looked like a tall girl. Sunny personality, outdoorsy type of person. But, there was definitely something off. She had straight brown hair, a Greek complexion with bluish sort of eyes. She came in immediately behind Darin, all smiles, leaning down to hug Judith. When she came round to Crash, her face went serious for a moment. It reminded me of a speeder who see's a cop car behind a bush. Crash for his part nodded at her. He didn't smile, didn't hug her. Instead he gave her a hardy handshake. The look on Crash's face spoke volumes. It wasn't the look of a friendly neighbor. Crash went into 'official representative' mode. Something had happened between the two of them. I wasn't sure what it was. All I knew was that it wasn't something that he liked. "So, uh, 'Denise', where are you living these days," Crash asked. The question seemed pointed. "Two counties over," she replied. "I'm just working at the local Wal-Mart down there, and taking night classes. Nothing crazy." Crash nodded. The conversation seemed strange. Stilted. Almost as if Crash was making a point. She went out of her way to talk about her job and night classes. Crash asked the question as if he was trying to check up on her. Make sure she wasn't living elsewhere. Elsewhere like what? Here? In our county? What would have been so bad about that? The question sounded as if Crash had ran her off before. I knew he had done it, but even he tells me it's not something he does lightly, and is something he'd prefer not to do. So what did Denise do to make Crash chase her off? Which leads me to another line of thought. Why the emphasis on Denise? Crash said it as if he knew her with a different name. Perhaps he did. The entire interaction seemed so stilted and sore As if some sort of painful incident happened years ago, something both of them were still sore about. It reminded me more of ex's bumping into each other at Starbucks than it did of someone meeting someone else for the first time. Darin wandered into the garage to talk to Gary. Judith attempted to pull me away as well. I let her. It gave me a convenient excuse to allow Crash to do whatever official capacity thing he needed to do with 'Denise' or whatever her name was. Nothing was happening the way I expected things to go. What I had anticipated was: Crash shows up. Meets the fiance. They talk. Fiance tells Crash how much she loves Darin. Crash gives her some basic ground rules that she already knew and was probably following. We eat then leave. Easy, right? Instead, Crash was glaring at 'Denise' who was glaring back at Crash. Their conversation was terse comments and veiled threats made under hushed tones. It was a game of waiting, snarls and anger. And the night had literally just begun. |
| There are plenty of people out there who would tell me that schadenfreude is a good thing on occasion. If you're not familiar, schadenfreude is an old world European thing. I believe from Germany, but I'm a little too lazy to look it up, so don't attack me on it please. But schadenfreude is the act of taking joy and/or pleasure from the pain and suffering of your enemies or those who have wronged you. This is something everyone's done at one point in their lives. Whether it's laughing at the Karen in her White Ford Explorer who got pulled over by the cop for speeding after she chewed out the Starbucks employee for ten minutes for doing their literal job, or it's chuckling at your boss who ends up getting chewed out in the office for ignoring good advice you gave them, we've all taken a little bit of schadenfreude in our lives. Yes, Gary had all but avoided us after the whole "Meth-headed vampire takes over the town" thing, but so did several others. It wasn't because of anything that I or they did. Many of them, including Gary, felt more than a bit of embarrassment at what had happened. But beneath that embarrassment was a naked fear. A fear of the unknown - an unknown they'd at one point in time considered to be nothing more than fairy tales and nonsense. Kid stories told at bed time to frighten children or cannon fodder for Stephen King, nothing to be considered real. That fear is something I understood. The fear is what drove me to start this blog to begin with. It's why I wasn't mad when our conversations had turned to simple head nods and basic greetings on the street. I wasn't upset with Gary when our interactions discussing cars and parts, talking about how to keep simple cars like mine on the road became awkward dances around stones that cropped up between us, stone we both chose to disregard. A mind at times can only accept so many things. Crash built me into the life slowly, with things being revealed within their own time. Gary was pushed into the deep end and told to swim. When he approached me in the yard, I had thought that perhaps he'd finally got the gumption up to talk about things like we used to – that perhaps we could ignore the insanity and talk about cars again. Instead, what I got was an awkward, stilted conversation that only got more strange as it went along. He walked up, playing with his finger nails, looking every bit of a child trying to ask their parents for a new cell phone. His mouth was drawn into a nervous pucker, eyes wide as stop signs behind his glasses. "Jason, I uh....got to talk...." he said, standing by the car. I had been changing my oil at the time. It was a simple operation at that moment of pulling the drain plug off the oil pan and letting the used oil stream out. As I did so, I came up wiping my hands on an old rag. "Sure thing, dude. How can I help?" "It's well, I uh..." he began, and looked around conspiratorially. It felt like an old sitcom from the nineties. Steve Urkel trying to buy drugs as part of a sting operation. "I need...you know...." "I don't. You're going to have to be specific," I said. I wasn't unsympathetic, but I was a little confused. He gritted his teeth, and looked around one more time. Then whispered. "Werewolf." "Gary, are you sure you want to go down this road?" A gave him as sympathetic of a look as I could muster, and clapped him on the shoulder. He looked up at me, and there was a brokenness there I didn't expect. "My son is dating this new woman. She's great, very outgoing. Has a good appetite too, I've never seen a woman eat that much and keep her figure the way she does, heh. She's friendly, almost lively. Outside quite a bit, and I started to suspect that she maybe a....well...." "Werewolf," I asked, finishing the statement for him. He nodded. "Well, Darin proposed yesterday. We all gave our congratulations but..." "And let me add mine. Congratulations, Gary." He took a step back. "I'm not sure I want a...well..." "Werewolf?" "Yeah, that. It might not be...well..." "Gary. You'll be perfectly safe. She won't interfere with you. Your son will be safe." Gary's face darkened for a moment. He looked away down the road, his mind drifting into elsewhere. "It was like being locked away. Inside. I could see myself doing all of these awful things, and I didn't want to do any of it. But the images drifted by, like scenes passing on billboards on the highway. All I could do was watch. I...don't want that for Darin. For Julia, his fiance'. For anyone. Ever. If there's even the slimmest chance that could happen to him, I have to save him." Gary turned back to me, "could you ask your friend to just...well...you know..." "Crash won't scare away another werewolf, Gary." His eyes flashed with anger for a moment, and he turned back to the highway, still unable to look at me. "Just tell him to, well, talk? Maybe? Please?" There was a wild desperation in Gary's eyes. One that forced a nod from me. "I guess I can," I said. "Don't get your hopes up. Don't go expecting miracles." *** The rest of this interaction does come from Crash. When I gave him the question from Gary, he texted Gary and told him to meet him at dusk near the woods. Not the small clutch of trees near our home, but the real forest a couple miles down. Two roads cross in front of where Crash asked Gary to meet. A handful of houses press into the trees, but otherwise it's just forest. It wasn't dark for Crash. His night vision is well enough that he could identify the color of shirt Gary chose to wear. Could see the moonlight glinting off of his glasses. Could identify where his pants bent when he walked. Crash watched Gary approach then turn. Gary kept looking around at the road, at our house. At the forest itself. When Gary looked into the forest, Crash allowed him to see his eyes. The eye shine made Gary gasp, and he stepped back for a moment. Crash stood to his full height and stepped out of the trees in his wolf form. Gary fell backwards into the street, a cry caught in his throat. "P-please..." he stammered. "Crash? T-that you?" "Yes it is. Take a good long look." Gary's breath was coming in shallow gasps. He said "I need your help. P-please...I n-need...." Crash sighed, and reached down. Gary winced a moment expecting him to attack, but instead Crash picked him back up and set Gary on his two unsteady feet. "There you go." The older man winced as Crash gently brushed the dirt from his clothing, his shirt, his hair. "Gary, I perform a service to this community," Crash said. "I'm not a monster. I work with those you have chosen not to see. I work with them to support them and you. You interact with almost a dozen different creatures every day, and yet you don't know a single one of them." "But this is different. This is Darin, my boy. If you had a child....or pup...or is it wrong to say pup," Gary wondered for a moment. "Child works," Crash said. "Child, whatever," Gary replied. "What would you do? If it was yours and you were faced with something you knew very little about. But your only interaction terrified you? Wouldn't you do all you could to ensure your son's safety?" "Where is your son and his fiance'," Crash asked. "They're at home now. But they're coming over this Saturday. For a big outdoor barbecue." It was far too cold for that right now. But Crash nodded, giving Gary a slow smile. "Text me the time and I'll be there." Crash watched as Gary walked back towards his home. There was a slow sadness in Crash's heart. Gary thought he was doing the right thing. Gary thought he was saving his son. But Crash knew, if it was a werewolf, they would not tolerate interference and protect those they loved with their own lives. If it was something else, there was no telling what would happen. For Gary it would look like war on a scale he'd never seen before. He said a silent prayer as Gary walked away. "Please don't let this tear his family apart." |
| Ever get talked into something you immediately regret? That sort of thing, whether it's helping a neighbor or helping your friend, that's just far too much trouble than for what it's worth for anyone. It's not illegal or anything. It's just that whatever it is, whether that job is something to do with lawn maintenance, car care, or something gross, it's going to take you far more effort than what you want and get you farther involved than you ever cared to be. This is what happened to me recently with our resident hulderfolk. Charles and Nancy had decided to move. Leave the house, further down state to another werewolf area. Something without Nobility troubles and meth-head vampires running around. They found a nice place to rent, and attempted to sell the house here. I admit, I was intrigued. What and how does house sales work for a mythical creature? Do they sell the home to humans, or do they attempt to sell it to another mythical? I can see a real estate agent, walking around with a clip board pointing out several items. "And the doors here are tall enough for an ogre. The walls are thick and dark colored so any pesky mud or blood stains just wash right off! Neighbors are used to strange noises from the last family of mythical creatures who lived here, so they don't even ask questions!" Of course, Nancy wanted to try to sell the house herself. This lead to an entire debacle of her being too busy to show the home, too busy to answer questions, and it sitting on the market for six whole months. Then she got the 'brilliant' idea of renting it. If you have a home you want to sell, I always say go ahead and sell it. Don't rent. Renters aren't always careful with your property. Plus, a lot of property management companies are more than happy to collect your money and just let your property go to ruin instead of actually maintaining it. There's way too many hands, especially hands that just don't care about the quality of work they give you. Plus, everything always comes back on you. It just doesn't seem worth it in my eyes. The "For Rent" sign went up close to Christmas. They had a renter for a grand total of twenty one days. Twenty one agonizing, yard destroying, 'let's see if we can pour bleach on the lawn to spell funny letters' days. Twenty one 'I like hip hop and rap rock from 00's so now everyone else does at 3am' days. Twenty one 'it's fun to drunk drive at 2 in the morning blasting my stereo' days. Twenty one 'cops kicked in our door again' days. You know it's bad when a cop comes by and tries to ask Crash if he could find a reason to our new neighbors. He tried to disguise it as a joke, and even laughed at it, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. He wanted them gone. I don't blame him; we all did. By the time the cops had enough evidence to drag the neighbors from hell away in handcuffs, the once gorgeous home looked like a war zone. One of the bay windows in front was smashed out and hastily covered with plywood. The former tenants literally poured bleach on Charles' proud lawn. Apparently, they were trying to spell out 'Hi Neighbors!' But it came out looking more like 'Hiney Bears'. I still to this day don't know how many joints and beers it takes to get to the point where you're so drunk you make that mistake. I'd only seen Charles cry one time, and that was out of torture for the love of his estranged wife. This time, though, when he saw what they did to his property, he did shed a tear. Then he gave one of his infamous Charles threats. "May a horde of rats gnaw on their toe nails!" I had swung by just in time to hear the threat. I'd also seen Charles then smile at me. "Neighbor! Hi!" Trouble. "Hey Charles, how ya holding up?" His shoulders sunk down in his over priced designer shirt. "Not well. our hooligan tenants have decided to give our beloved home a not-so decorative remodel with spray paint and body fluids." Thanks Charles. Thank you so much for the extremely graphic description. At that moment I wished I still drank. "They were all sorts of trouble," I said. "The kind of people who appreciated their liquor more than their own lives." Charles nodded thoughtfully. "When Nancy found them, they said they could pay. They didn't have the money for a down payment. Swore they would pay. Never paid first months rent, kept swearing they would pay." "Where did she find them," I asked. "She said they were being forcibly removed from a movable domicile for a minor financial disagreement with their landlord. Nancy said they had given her a solemn oath that they had learned their lesson and would be no more trouble." He gritted his teeth at the end of it, staring down at the destroyed lawn. He was opening and closing his hands into fists. "An oath is only as good as the man who makes it," I said. "To some, their oath isn't worth the breath wasted on it." He gave me a dark look for a moment, and I held up my hands. "I'm not trying to preach to you, I'm sorry." Charles glared for a moment at me, still opening and closing his fists. Then, his shoulders fell, and he looked back at his destroyed lawn. "I'm not angry at you. You are correct. In troll culture, the ones who do this are dealt with very quickly. But, humans, you seem to get away with everything sometimes. It gets upsetting." Then came the question he was burning to ask me. The one I dreaded and was subtly trying to avoid. I was giving every subtle clue that I was leaving. I glanced at my watch four times. I took a step towards the car. I even unlocked my car. Still, Charles turned to me, his eyes full of hurt and said "Would you be willing to stay awhile? Help me clean up?" I wanted to grit my teeth, to stomp, to shout and scream. I wanted to run screaming to my car shouting 'LALALALALALA I'M NOT LISTENING!' Then stomp the accelerator and take that Topaz around the corner to my house at ninety. But, I didn't do any of those things. I did the reasonable thing one does for their neighbor. I smiled the classic 'I really don't want to do this' smile and said "Sure! I'll be glad to help you." That was the start of an extra long weekend. The stench hit me fifteen feet from the front steps. Liquor, despair, and shit. It smelled like a truck stop bathroom threw up inside the building after a bender at the worst bar in town. As I climbed the porch steps, I found that the smell was only seconded by the sight. The floor was covered in a sticky substance that had to be the remnants of a beer. The walls in the living room had been spray painted. I wasn't sure what the intended design was, but I knew it would require far more liquor than I intended to consume to read and understand them. The kitchen was splattered with a red substance that could have been blood, spaghetti sauce or ketchup. I didn't know which it was, nor did I want to know. As we moved upstairs, the smell of fecal matter and despair grew stronger. A thick musk like someone hadn't bathed in days. When we rounded the top, there was a pile of dirty laundry left at the top of the banister. The bathroom....well....it's disgusting. Using a turd like a crayon, someone had wrote the words 'fuk u' on the door. Someone else had given the toilet an upper decker. If you're unfamiliar, that's when you crap in the tank rather than the toilet bowl itself. It can ruin the toilet. Thankfully, these genuises didn't flush, but instead just left it floating there, like a departing gift. Poor Charles. He went through eleven different emotions of anger and hurt. He had no idea where to even start with things. How can you say no to that? To abandon anyone at that level of despair? I mean, besides just hiring a hazmat team to come burn down the house so you can rebuild it? We went outside. I put him on the front lawn, told him to start calling people to replace the window. Then, I went to the nearest Dollar General and bought out every kind of household cleaner they had. My credit card still hates me. Afterwards, we went to work. Starting on the top floor, we grabbed gloves and began to throw out every single thing those jokers had left us. Nothing of theirs was kept. Clothing, the few random pieces of crusty furniture, the actually expensive looking liquor bottle, nothing. Of course, as Charles began to clean he also began to talk. To tell me stories as we went room to room. Some of those stories are not fit to print here. I swear, hulderfolk or not, I'm going to sit him down one day and pound into him the concept of TMI! A lot of the stories he did tell though, was sweet ones. Like how he originally proposed to Nancy. Him trying his hardest to come up with the perfect phrases, to say the right things. He had the ring behind his back, right there at the bottom of the stairs and began, well, talking for ten minutes straight. He kept going, he was so nervous. She finally jumped up, kissed him hard to shut him up and grabbed the ring box out of his hands and shouted 'yes, I'll marry you!' How they planned their honeymoon by buying up a bunch of random postcards on the internet and taped them to the wall. They closed their eyes and literally just threw darts at them until they hit a tropical location. How, when money got tight, he began to gather wild flowers and berries for alternative food sources until things picked up again. All of these stories and others he told as we cleaned, working from top to bottom. I tried to be sympathetic, but I was a bit dizzy from the cleaners, which only added to my usual grumbly demeanor. It took us four days to get the house clean. Took almost that long for a contractor to get the window replaced. I pulled a couple of things away from that though. First was, a house is more than a collection of things. It's a collection of memories inside a building. When you rent a building out where you lived, you're essentially renting those memories out to someone else. Memories the other party may or may not cherish, and usually don't. Also, I learned that sometimes the act of doing something like cleaning a home, isn't just about getting things clean physically. It's about cleaning things mentally and spiritually as well. Charles felt a whole lot better after such things and even got Nancy to move back into the house with him. He's still working on the lawn. I hope he gets new sod brought in or something, cause driving by the lawn and seeing 'Hiney Bears' every single time I go to the store makes me giggle. I feel bad for it, though. |
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