THE NEIGHBOR

I'm not Catholic, so I was unaware there was a patron saint of changing light bulbs/ evicting creepy neighbors, but apparently there is and he comes in the form of an old handyman with a thick southern accent. Let me explain.

When my roommate moved into our duplex four years ago, the neighbor that she shared a wall with was the kind of neighbor that you'd want: nice, friendly, you know, neighborly. So when she moved out, I guess the universe decided to even things out a bit and in comes Chris, who we now refer to as Creepy Neighbor, or Pedophile Neighbor, or simply THE NEIGHBOR (I considered writing a short slasher screenplay based on him). He's your average white dude; you wouldn't pay attention to him if you saw him walking down the street. But if I've learned anything from Chris Hansen on "How to Catch a Predator", it's the average white dudes in their early 30s you want to watch out for. He does not have a job, though purports to be a writer, and is fully supported by his parents (our walls are REALLY thin and I have the unfortunate luck of sharing a bedroom wall with him). Since he doesn't have a job, he's up at 3 a.m. blasting Metallica, which don't get me wrong is a great band, but not exactly the soothing sounds of rain on a tin roof. This dude has Spinal Tap amps and they are set at eleven. I couldn't care less what my neighbors do in their own house, but when it starts to affect my sleep, you better believe I'm coming at you.

My roommate has called the landlord and the cops on him countless times and nada. We tried to be diplomatic by setting reasonable hours during which he could play his music and we wouldn't bang on the wall or bother him, but night after night, he would blare his music. One word. HEADPHONES. They aren't new technology. We theorized that maybe he played his music so that we couldn't hear the screams of the people he kills.

I'm also pretty sure that he has a massive crush on my roommate because she was initially nice to him, which must have been a new experience for him. On the flip side, he HATES me for basically telling him to shut the fuck up. I have a particular hatred for him because he refuses to call me by my name and instead calls me "Asian Roommate" and believes that China is out to get him. Just him.

Just to give you a taste of what I'm dealing with, here is a scenario that stands out in my mind from when I had just moved in. My friend and her husband came over to help me troubleshoot my router and see my new digs. They happened to park their car in his spot so when THE NEIGHBOR came back from whatever a 30 year-old unemployed bipolar idiot does, he parked behind me, effectively blocking me in just as I had to go to work. I knocked on his door to ask him to move his car. I would just paraphrase the conversation I had, but it is too bizarre and needs to be told verbatim.

Me (holding The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest): Could you move your car while I pull out? I have to go to work.
Creepy Neighbor (speaking very quickly and standing too close for comfort): I was wondering when you were going to come over here where am I supposed to park if your friend is parked there? What's that book about?
Me: umm... you probably want to start with the first one; it's the third in a series...so about my car...
CN: You know where the hornet's nest occurred? The Civil War.
Me (baffled): umm... ok. so if you just move your car and could you also keep your music down? you've been playing it at 5:30 and 6 am
CN: You don't have to bang on my wall and don't call the landlord.
Me: You have to understand from my perspective 5:30 am is not a reasonable time to be blasting Metallica. It wakes us up.
CN: Who are you to dictate when I can play my music?
Me: I'm not. The landlord does.
CN: This is just like you liberals. There's me on the right and 200 people on the left. I know ALL the politicians, judges, lawyers, and cops in this town.
Roomate: What does that have to do with anything?
CN:...........

He eventually moved his car and I drove away confused, angry, late for work and wanting to put a flaming bag of dog poo on his door step.

Fast forward several months on one fateful day when our industrial-sized florescent kitchen lightbulb burned out. St. Handyman promptly came over to fix it then asked me about THE NEIGHBOR because he had also blocked him in (sensing a trend?) From there I spilled the beans about how much trouble he was giving us. When St. Handyman politely asked THE NEIGHBOR to move his car, he lost his shit and started cursing. One curse at St. Handyman and BOOM! evicted. I had no idea that Saints worked so quickly. Maybe I should also casually mention those parking tickets to Him.