As many of you know, I moved into a new home in the last few months and out of The Village of the Damned. Continue reading
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
Inmates here in The Village of the Damned are not the best drivers. Case in point was the whole Mr Jeep fiasco. But we can’t talk about that since it’s an ongoing investigation. So I’ll talk about something else.
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
The inmates were restless and tempers flared last night In The Village of the Damned. I heard pounding on the walls and I couldn’t tell if the sound was coming from directly next door or if it came from the apartment below them. I went back to idly flipping through the channels trying to find a decent show to watch on a Tuesday night. Continue reading
I watched a boy-racer car zip into the parking lot and come to a screeching halt. It had heavily tinted windows so I could not see the occupants. The car floored it to turn around and left the parking lot in a rush of screeching tires. Continue reading
It snowed over the weekend but due to the high winds, there was only about 1/4″ on the sidewalks as the rest of the snowfall probably blew into Kansas. Continue reading