It's bedtime. I've just watched my Doctor Who and I'm listening to a podcast which will send me off to sleepsville, when I hear a cat meowing. Well, one of George's cats are still outside--this I know because the cat slinked around as I entered tonight and wouldn't come in with me. To wit I usually reply, "Well forgetchoo then. Beast." And close her little arse out. Then she might wake me up in the AM with the meowing outside my window. So I figure, why not let her in now that she's ready?
So I go upstairs (I'm in the basement) and open the front door. And in the dark, this boy and this girl jumps up off the front step --of the HOUSE. Mind you, this isn't an apartment house, it's private property. A house in a cul-de-sac. So I look at these two and I say, "I thought I heard a cat out here." And he says, "That was me. I sometimes do that. I'm just waiting for (George's Son)."
Well, yes, George's Son has moved in for the Summer like he did last year when he worked my nerves over. I did what I could not to complain about him heretofore during this go 'round. But now I gotta. I just gotta.
We'll call him George Jr. Or just Junior. Junior goes to sleep at about ... well I don't know when. Because he's always up, thumping around over my head, when I'm ready to go to sleep. He's barged down to my area twice since he's moved in, but he has learned to knock. The first time it was to take my shampoo out of the bathroom, then come to ask me if he could borrow it. Note the order of events. and I had to go upstairs days later to retrieve it. Secondly, he came down with some of his little buddies to show them me. He's done this before, last year. And he has said in every case, "they wanted to meet the guy who lives in my father's house." So this time, after they were gone, I told him that if he didn't want me to hurt his friends' feelings, he would make sure not to bring them down to "meet me" anymore. Junior didn't know what I meant, so I told him that I wasn't an exhibit in a zoo so if I sensed even the slightest hint of that again, I was going to cuss them all out--so if he didn't want me to do that, he would do well to keep them away from me. He didn't seem to quite get it. But he will--next time he does it.
I know! Lookit me being all assertive!
Yesterday, Junior woke me out of an afternoon nap to ask if I'd drive him somewhere. Thankfully I was too groggy to think rationally. If I was in my right mind, I would've caved out of guilt and obligation to George, but my superego was submerged and my selflish, bestial id was riding the reigns and told his ass NO.
But let me go back to a few mornings ago, when I went upstairs to feed the cats, and did not notice that a person was sleeping on the couch in the livingroom until the catbowls were full and I was going back downstairs. Yup. A stranger had slept on the couch. Until tonight. The boy outside on the steps was the guy who was sleeping on the couch a few days ago. And now he's out there waiting--with his girlfriend no less--for Junior to come home and let him into the house again for another nights' repast.
Now why would I--a homeless person living here for free, have a problem that Junior invited a similar chap to do the same upstairs? He's just following in his father's generous footsteps, right?
But I don't trust Junior. He has the insight of a mayfly. Before I ever showed up, he had a group of friends trash this house, write all over the walls, and punch holes through a few that they didn't write on.
So I go upstairs to ask George if he knew about this arrangement. Yes, George is home. George is in one of the three upstairs rooms. His usual room has all its' lights on and a radio blaring sports radio--and is empty. Junior's room is empty and dark too. And George is in the last room sleeping in the bed that his daughter usually sleeps in when she comes over -- and he has no pants on. Naked like a child from the waist down. And after I do the Yuck-Dance (whaddaya know--I'm not homosexual after all) I try to wake him up. Twice. I cannot wake him.
I do not try again. For the last year and a half, he has been a hard sleeper so I don't fear for his health. In fact, I realize its just another drug haze he's in. As he's been in for about 400 nights/mornings. And do I really want him to wake up with no pants on? SOOOO no.
And it dawns on me. If/when Junior gets home and lets the stranger on the lawn into the house, and probably his girlfriend too, George will not know about it in the least. So if this stranger gets a hankering to kill us all in our sleep, people watching the news will be wondering how such a thing could've possibly happened.
It's just insane. This house is insane. And I am a part of the insanity. I might as well be living in a crackhouse. I probably am.
And I am SO ready to get out of the insanity.
But my perspective roommate has not called still. So I'll call him again and leave another message and then start looking again for another place.
Because I'm getting out. Out out out.
And I'll have to post later about what a wonderful day I had today, before I came home to this crazy-ass mess up in here. As of this writing, the stranger and his girlfriend is still outside on the lawn, George is still in a drug coma, and Junior hasn't come home yet. When they come in, I'm sure I'll be awakened--ah, nix that. They're in. Not thumping around yet, but he's turned the light on to my downstairs hallway--and he'll keep it on, just you watch, and now we'll all be under one roof. One big happy.
If you never hear from me again, look up news of a triple homicide from Paramus NJ and direct the police to this blog. Too bad I don't know the boy's real name or his girlfriends'. But let the record show, it was all Junior's fault.
Or my own fault for getting myself into this mess in the first place.
If I live through the night, I'll fix the mess.
I'll fix it because I can. I'm a better person now than I was even a few short weeks ago. I'm stronger, I'm wiser, and I'll tell you all about it in my next post.