Sunday, June 26

I Live on Crazy Street

(I know I haven't updated in a while. Deal with it.)

A lot has happened in this past week. I've quit my job at the factory, partially because the drive was getting to be too far, but mostly because I hate working in a giant metal building that has no air conditioning during these hot and humid Illinois summers with a bunch of redneck jackasses who do nothing but talk about sex and drinking all day. Hmmmm, typing that made it actually sound like something I would enjoy. But I digress.
After quitting my job, I moved down to the house where I'll be residing during the school year. It's a great place, close to campus, and for the first time in my life I have my own room. However, the lessers neglected to tell us that this house has a sort of magnetic attraction to crazy assholes.
One night this week the doorbell rang and my roommate went to answer the door. At the door was a black guy frantically gesturing and pointing at his ears. My roommate asked him, "Are you ok?" At this point, the guy crouched down and grabbed my roommate's calf vigorously. Since my roommate and I are both easily startled, I'm really surprised that we both didn't run into his room and hold each other under the covers at this point. The Visitor handed my roommate a note saying something along the lines of, "My car broke down and I need money for gas." He continued to point to his ears to indicate that he was deaf. Fortunately, my roommate had the presence of mine to shut the door in this guy's face.
Why? A couple of reasons. First of all, it was about one in the morning. Secondly, my roommate and I have both seen this guy walking around town pulling this same scam. I have personally been in Subway with Scary Adam when the same guy tried to swindle Adam out of money by handing him the exact same note.
Today the doorbell rings again. I look out the front door and see a mass of hair. My first instinct was to run away and hide under my bed, since I'm really scared of werewolves, Cousin It, and other hairy monsters. However, I suck it up and open the door. There's a lady whose ethnicity is difficult to determine standing out there in a pink dress.
"Is that your garden out back?" she asks.
"Well, sorta. It's our landlord's." I reply.
"Oh. Ok. Can you call 911 for me?"
"Um, what?"
"Yeah. Have them come pick me up."
I start to get really weirded out at this point. I ask her if anything's wrong, and she just says that she needs for me to call the police.
"Can I come in?" she asks again.
Being the complacent type, I let her come in. She asks to use the bathroom, and I let her. While she's in there, I call 911.
"911 emergency, what's your emergency?"
"Um, there's a lady who showed up at my house asking for me to call 911."
"What's the emergency?"
"I don't exactly know. She just showed up here."
"And she's outside the house?"
"No, she came in to use the bathroom."
"And what's the emergency?"
"I don't know."
I then gave the operator my address and name. About this time, the lady comes out of the bathroom. The back of her dress is soaking wet, and I really hope that it's because she hasn't peed herself. She takes the phone from me, and proceeds to tell the operator that they need to come pick her up because she called them this morning and all this shit. She hangs up, tells me that the bathroom decor is great, thanks me for helping her and blesses my soul before she proceeds to go out to our garden to sit cross-legged on the ground and smoke. After a while, two police cars and three police officers show up and talk to her. They talk for a while before the cops leave. I never saw her leave. For all I know, she's in the basement with an axe.

More updates will come as crazy people continue to show up at my house.
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