The Bard and Jester

Welcome Readers! Here you will find some real life experiences and musings that I'd like to share with you. So, come on in, if you have the time and I'll do my best to be entertaining... Please click on my sponsors' links!!! Established March 12, 2005.

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Location: New York, United States

I can be a clown, a poet, a fool, a romantic, a diplomat, a all depends upon the timing and circumstance.

Friday, June 17, 2005

The Strange Neighbors & Events Of Our First Apartment -PART 1

For Rent
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In the summer of 2000, My wife and I moved into our first apartment together. Right at the start, on moving day, we realized something wasn't quite right about the place. The skeleton of a bird that had died, prior to our arrival, somehow stuck between the screen and the glass in one of the bedroom windows sure seemed like an ill portent.

The apartment complex was out on Long Island and because I had grown up in Brooklyn, I assumed that this was a nice, normal place simply because it had a courtyard, grass and trees and looked nothing like the apartment buildings in Brooklyn. Actually, the signs that it was anything but normal were there even before we moved in.

The leasing agent, Lillian, lived in the complex and she interviewed all perspective tenants inside her apartment. She was an energetic 70 year old lady with dyed black hair and eyebrows and an ever present lunatic's grin. She was a Born Again Christian and seemed to insert Jesus into every sentence. And she couldn't get it out of her head that my name wasn't Peter. She had pictures of Christ and huge printings of biblical scripture in gaudy frames hanging on the walls...Mark, Luke, John, all the boys were there. Lillian always wore baggy white slacks and Fuck-Me pumps of alternating colors as she went about the complex pushing a rattling shopping cart. She used this cart, she said, to carry the meals she cooked for the local homeless shelter. But the cart was always empty whenever I saw her either coming or going.

My wife and I signed the lease and then came moving day. My friends, my sister and her husband all were there to help along with my father, who supervised--he couldn't do heavy lifting anymore ever since his heart surgery.

The apartment below us was empty, but the next door neighbor, Alan, came out to greet us--each apartment had a private entrance. He was a pudgy, thirty-something recovering alcoholic and drug addict. He was also on permanent disability due to a serious car accident some years ago--ironically, because of a drunk driver. Therefore, Alan no longer had to work and, thus, often suffered from long hours of boredom. So he'd come outside whenever he saw you coming or going, whether he knew you or not, just to have someone to talk and pass the time with. And he was the kind of person who could just talk and talk and was difficult to extract yourself from once he engaged you in conversation. One side of his round face had a peculiar way of screwing up whenever he talked and he habitually had his finger digging in his ear.

So far, all of this was really nothing compared to what was to come.

Then the door of the apartment next to Alan's--two away from us--opened and I heard my father say, "Oh God...get a load of this guy."

(Continued in Part 2 to come)


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