letters...

We hate things here that involve the letter "A". The state of Alabama, the Oakland A's, anxiety attacks and antiquing are all perfect examples. Another great example of this is the fact that we rarely post on months that begin with the letter "A". Sorry for the delay but that's just how it goes around here. Another group of people hated the letter "A". They were puritans that famed author Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote about in his classic tale "the Scarlet Letter". The main difference here is that we love woman with little or no morals. If I could go out to a bar and tell which girls liked being moral-less* just by a single letter sewn onto their cloak that would make things a HELL of a lot easier for me. Anyway, since N. Hawthorne and I share a birthday and are both accomplished writers I thought I'd take a stab at updating one of his many stories. Not totally a sequel but not too far off. Here's part one....

The Scarlet Letter: the updated version for someone of my caliber

This takes place remarkabley close to the setting of the original story of shame and banishment, my current domicile.The apartment I am currently living in occupies the second and third floors of a fairly unassuming house on the outer edge of a (ie THE) major New England city. The occupants of this apartment have all lived here longer than I. Things have been slightly shakey since moving in. Just slightly though, you know, a blocked in car here, a few hundred dollars there nothing predominately as noticeable as one of those richter scale shakedowns on dramatic television. Most of the time there is hardly any interaction between us. There are six of us total and yet, for the most part, if I need to see someone they must be sought after. Conflicting work schedules help this but my room is the only bedroom on the second floor. The rest of the dwellers tend to dwell on the third floor in their designated rooms. The only rooms on the third floor that are not bedrooms are bathrooms. Two full baths right next to one another. Either the result of an architect with a stutter or a landlord that almost took segregation to a new level. He'd allow mixed races to live in the place he owned but they, for absolutely no reasons whatsoever, share a bathing chamber. Hypothetically, of course. The other five residents tend to their bathrooms while I use the THIRD full bath on the second floor. Excessive? Well this isn’t the puritans America anymore. They went through all their hardships so the philistines of the modern times didn’t have to walk up or down stairs to urinate or bathe inside. So on my morning commute through the dining room and kitchen to the semi final destination of the bathroom went by just like it does every other day. Upon my entering of said bathroom I was greeted somewhat abruptly with a very large, ahem, shall we say “suprise”, waiting for me in the bowl of the second largest device in that room. It had been therre for some time and was rather unpleasant to look at. The flushing of said device was soon to follow but not before I noticed that there was a lack of assistance paper in that watery hell hole. Though unpleasant I found this scenario wildly amusing. Since we live in the modern day city life and not say, colonial times or say, "inside of a run down gas station in Atlanta that once gave me nightmares" it’s generally not something I’d ever expect to see. Maybe in a college dormitory but certainly not my own home. Clearly, someone was sending me a message, a rather serious one at that. Why else would someone defecate within a bathroom and not flush? But whom could it be? Which of the over dwellers would do such a thing? I am a firm believer in the notion of the person you suspect the least is the most obvious candidate. Mankind tends to be devious and I'd have it no other way.

conclusion to follow...

*boned