Making A Retard Cry

Dangerous D wrote me bad rent checks. Last month’s rent check bounced. I had a difficult time getting him to cough up cash for covering his portion of the rent. Angry, I told him it had better not happen again. I even considered forcing him to pay the rent from that time forward in cash or with a money order only. I didn’t trust Dangerous D. After I cooled off though I decided since it was his first infraction I should let it slide, give him another chance. His rent check for this month also bounced. Call me a sucker. Lately Dangerous D has been on an ebay buying spree. All the stuff he’s purchased seems like pure crap to me. Last week a large box packed to the brim with 35mm camera equipment showed up on our doorstep. D carefully unpacked those items and left them out on the living room coffee table. When his current rent check bounced I confronted him about it in the living room and pointed at all his camera supplies. “That’s where your rent money went, right?” He had nothing to say.

I’m sick of this guy. I’m tired of his constant mess in the kitchen, the oddball constant loud noises he makes, financial irresponsibility, forgetting to lock the house when no one is here, leaving the stove on when no one is here, and the weirdo girls he picks up online who come over here on blind dates. This shit is mad stupid. I’ve had enough. I decided to kick him to the curb. When Dangerous D came home from work I sat him down and told him he had to move out. I was very clear about my reasons.

I told him, “I agreed to let you move in because you said you needed to save money by lowering your monthly rent costs. I gave you a break by not charging you a deposit and by splitting the rent down the middle with you, which I didn’t have to do. Instead of saving money you’re just as broke now as when you moved in months ago and you still can’t get your shit under control. You’re an adult and I feel like mommy and daddy didn’t do a very good job preparing you for the real world. I’m not your parents, yet it’s like I’m living with a dumb kid I have to take care of. Bouncing rent checks two months in a row is unacceptable. You obviously don’t give a fuck so I want you out of here. You can have the rest of this month plus next month to find another place…”

Tears welled up in Dangerous D’s eyes and he started to bawl. As he sat with his head hung low on the couch he began crying loudly. It was awful. In a sustained, rolling sort of retarded wail D sat there for a few minutes dumping buckets of tears. He became louder as he cried into his lap. Sheesh. I kinda sorta started to feel rotten inside about the whole deal and it reminded me of an incident over at the Colonel’s house many years ago. That day he had invited me over to his place to tell me something extremely important. The Colonel was always playing practical jokes on me so I never knew what to expect. As we sat at his kitchen table drinking beers, he told me that he was gay. Smelling another one of his practical jokes I called him a fag and told him to STFU. After the third attempt at trying to tell me he was Mr. Fruity Boots he started to cry. Then I realized it was for real and I felt mighty low. I’m slow on the uptake sometimes, folks.

There was nothing else for me to say to Dangerous D so I left him there on the couch sobbing and got ready to head out for work. You know what the funny part of this whole thing was? It turned out that most if not all of that 35mm camera gear Dangerous D bought on ebay was broken.

~ by factorypeasant on July 14, 2006.