She’s Talking Crap Again!

How much rudeness can be packed into one apartment?  Some day, hopefully soon, I’ll look back and miss my time here.

Residing in Apt #666 downstairs in The Village of the Damned, is Mr Marlboro Man, his little Missus, a young teen boy and a tiny yipping canine. Y’all have heard me talk about Mr Marlboro Man before and I’m about to again. Continue reading

This Place Is Making Me Paranoid

Mrs. Kravitz had a knock at her door yesterday at around 4:20 pm. After looking through the peephole and determining it was not UPS, FEDEX nor a maintenance gnome, Mrs. Kravitz did something she never does. She opened the door!

Standing there was a slightly unkempt young man. He had nothing with him except for a pen which he held in one hand and kept thwacking into the palm of the other hand. His first words were, “I’m not selling anything.” Continue reading