Sunday, January 15, 2012


Scene: My brother & I, coming back from a get together at approximately 2am on a Wednesday. We encounter the open window of our building's first floor resident; a single, elderly woman. Her lights are on and she's playing solitaire at her dining room table.


Me: That lady's kind of weird. Sometimes I see her out here--it's like during the day, she just stands in front of our building and looks up and the sky and then stumbles around for a while before going back into her apartment. 

Ray: *angrily* Fucking old crone. 

Me: *laughs* what?

Ray: *even angrier* GOD. Sometimes I just wanna go in there and kill her myself. 

Me: Geez.What's wrong with you?

Ray: LOOK AT HER APARTMENT! LOOK AT IT! There's nothing in there but her dining room table, a couple of fucking boxes stacked on top of each other, and that fucking Marilyn Monroe poster. 

Me: *looks over into woman's window. assesses that he is correct* Haha, so?

Ray: So? Could she be any lonelier? Or older? What right do you have to not have any furniture but a lawn table in your dining room??? And then, every time I walk by here it's like she's just sitting in her apartment, with all the lights on and windows open, eating porridge. AT ALL HOURS OF THE DAY. EATING PORRIDGE!

Me: Porridge?

Ray: I imagine she's eating porridge. & it's cold. She's so pale and her hair is so white; she's practically camouflaged into the blandness of her apartment. It's like half the time, you don't even know if she's in there. 

Me: I don't think people call it porridge anymore.

Ray: & she knows we can all see her. Eating porridge in her empty apartment all day.

Me: I don't know. She does some creepy stuff; every time I walk Shakespeare and I come by her place, she's pacing the hallway of her apartment and babbling to herself...sometimes it looks like she's pulling out her hair as she paces. 

Ray: Oatmeal. I mean I guess it's good for your colon but I swear to God, seeing her just makes me wanna *pretends to strangle imaginary person* aghhhh!

Me: Yeah, oatmeal has a lot of fiber...
you've really let this derail to an unhealthy extent. 

*Elderly resident slowly looks up from her card game and over in our direction. It is then we realize how long we've been standing outside her apartment*

*Ray smiles and waves politely. I shamefully look down at the sidewalk*

Me: Oh my God, I'm uncomfortable. Let's go. 

Ray: *climbing up stairs* stupid Marilyn Monroe poster.

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