BlueZer0.net

On the afternoon of the first of August, Consuela and myself were sleeping after a day and a half of drinking when I woke to a terrible noise -- exterminators! They pumped gas through the storage cells which killed the other squatters like larvae in a hive. Being slightly more sober than the average homeless person, I tried to get out. When I found that I couldn’t, I woke Consuela to see whether she could find a way out, but by then it was too late. We were overcome by the gas, and fell back into our makeshift beds.

The exclusive Self Storage community, where they're all snotty about roaches and brown recluse spiders.

Some time later, we woke as they were sweeping the stiff, empty exoskeletons out of the cells, and rather than have them make an issue of our staying and possibly call the police, I just let them sweep me outside too, and soon enough I found myself in a gutter with Consuela.

We went to an alley where we stashed our stuff, and formulated a plan. We had to get enough money together to put down a first month’s rent on an apartment. She went to work cleaning houses, and I went to work stealing from supermarket dumpsters so we wouldn’t have to eat the profits of her labor.

Several cans of nineteen-year-old baked beans later, we had enough money to put down a deposit on a beautiful place here, in the former Forest View Apartments, now known as Building 1 of the Clintonville Commons complex. As you can see, the architecture is Eastern Bloc-inspired with the perfectly rectangular, ultra-efficient brick-and-concrete front which means it serves as both an apartment building and a cold war-era bomb shelter (one drop of bleach per gallon of water, please).

So, here’s a pic of my new one room office/living room/kitchen/bathroom from the outside. In true Soviet fashion there are four of us in that tiny room, and only Consuela can manage to communicate effectively with them. You don’t want to stand under that window, though, because we have the old school seventeenth-century plumbing if you know what I mean.

And here is a pic of my bomb-ass “room with a view” type window.

I don’t know if you can see it clearly in that pic, but the lady across the way in building two (the apartment with the curtains) actually lives by herself, and can afford cable. She keeps her window open, and watches the Indians games, so if you have glasses that allow you to see that far, you can check out the game. I mean, you know, you can see like a navy blue blur that may or may not be CC Sabathia. But still, it's better than nothing (that is, the Phils without Chase Utley).

Speaking of which, the wife and I have committed a treasonous act and become Indians fans. That’s right. They won tonight while the Tigers lost, meaning they took over first place in the American League Central division. It feels awesome to be winners for once. Pat the Bat can choke on our racist team caricature. I’m saying, Consuela doesn’t mind, and she’s an Indian, right? I mean, I never asked her or anything, but that’s what Latinos are, right? Indians mixed with Spanish conquistadors, right? Something like that. But anyway, that’s how we roll now, so check the style.

And then there are certain amenities that go along with sharing an apartment with many, many strangers, such as access to a stove. That’s right, The Shadow’s eating cooked food now. La dee dah, bitch. As you can see we have the SunRay over in our apartment, the finest model sold in the year 1948. It’s completely a gas stove -- no pilot light or anything, you have to have matches -- but that’s fine. No gas wasted on the pilot light.

The SunRat was the top of the line for the model year 1948. One step above the famous UnexplainedFire model, and two steps above the Exploder model so popular in third world countries.

And then of course there’s the matter of transportation. In the absence of the Shadowtastic WinneRio we have to make things happen with what you see here.

You can see that it has the wooden bench seats that are much more comfortable than they look. And there’s the plexi-glas booth that keeps the wind out. I mean, it doesn’t keep it out, but it, like, shields you from it a little. And there’s a light, too, in case, you know, someone tries to rape you, you can see them do it.

So, I have arrived. I am ready. I have a mission. And I will prevail.