Tag Archive: nightmares


That Time It Rained In My Apartment

Wed 11.21.12

Thanksgiving is this week and this brings us one very particular thing that I am thankful for: this year I did not come home to water pouring down through the ceiling of my apartment.

The year was two thousand and eight. I was living in a spacious 4 bedroom apartment, with 2 friends from high school – Tom and Erica – and an acquaintance – Dominic. We were on the second floor of a 4 story building, living well in Brighton. I was working for Harvard, which meant that I got perks. One such perk is that the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, every employee got a pie. I arrived home around 5:45pm, apple pie in hand, feeling exuberant. Tom worked until late in the evening, Erica disappeared for weeks at a time, and Dominic was in New Jersey. I was looking forward to a little quiet time. Just me and the pie.

Opening the door to my apartment, I noticed that something was amiss. I didn’t remember leaving a waterfall on in my bedroom when I left for work in the morning! I grabbed a nearby umbrella and passed through the threshold to my bedroom, like bursting through a wall of water. I checked all the important things first, my computer and comic books. Both were dry. Sadly, I could not say the same thing for all of my work shirts hanging in the closet, which were covered in damp plaster and also what I can only assume was water.

I placed our only bucket under my newly implemented waterfall and threw a few towels about. I sat on the couch, eyeing my pie, when I heard a commotion in the hallway. I stepped outside to find the girls in apartment 3 and the girl in apartment 1 having a powwow. It seems my apartment wasn’t the only one filling with water. Using the combined brain power of 3 apartments, we came to the conclusion that we didn’t know what the Hell was going on, but whoever lived on the 4th floor was going to have a very damp evening. Someone also called 911.

A tenant of apartment 4 arrived before the police did. He looked like he had just come from an internship at a law office, his tie undone only just barely. Apartment 4 lead us up the stairs like Fred of Mystery Incorporated, I brought up the rear like Scooby. Apartment 4 was hardly phased by the water pouring from the ceiling. This was such a frequent occurrence for him that he already had a 10 gallon trash can in place. What wasn’t a frequent occurrence (I assume) is that Apartment 4’s mattress was soaked.

A hour passed. My bedroom was only dripping water now. I had called my landlord and all my roommates. Erica made an appearance long enough to unlock her bedroom, which she dead bolted shut whether she was home or not, because no burglar would ever break into a locked room. This was the first time in the 1.5 years I lived with her that I had seen the inside of her room. It was like looking into her very psyche,  full of clothing and clutter. The fire department was doing a check of all the rooms, looking for water damage in the walls.  The power was cut to prevent any circuits from shorting out. I sat alone on our couch, eating a moist apple pie by candlelight, listening to firefighters run up and down the apartment stairs. At 8:30pm, a state representative appeared in my doorway. She told me that we needed to be evacuated by 10pm, and that our building was now considered “uninhabitable”.

A few hours later, I was at Back Bay station, waiting the the midnight train to my mom’s in Rhode Island. I had abandoned half a pie in my uninhabitable kitchen. I had enough clothes for a week in my bag. There was no way to know when we would be allowed to go back into our apartment or if we’d be homeless by Monday. After calling my landlord a dozen times, I, thankfully (a little holiday humor for you guys), got some news about the place I kept all of my things. We would not be homeless! Best Thanksgiving ever.


How Will You Die?

Fri 11.09.12

This morning, I came in contact with a strange, glowing puddle. It smelled like that taste you get when you suck on pennies. Naturally, I decided to splash a little on my face, as I was feeling a little run down since I sucked on all those pennies the other day. I won’t bore you with the details, but after I woke up and put my clothing back on, I was able to see into the future. Of course, I put this to good use.

If you want to know how you are going to die, follow me on Twitter. If you don’t, then that is how you are going to die; alone and afraid.

Edit: They just keep coming.

More after the jump!


My Mom Was Once a Visiting Nurse

Tue 10.04.11

While I was toiling away in high school, my mother was supporting our family as a visiting nurse. She would visit low income families, helping patients with long standing issues or who recently had surgery. While driving me through Providence on my way to school, she would leave me with casual observations; such as the inverse correlation between low income and the size of your television.

One particularly unmemorable morning, my mother decided to tell me a story about her previous day at work. Mom was visiting a patient complaining about abdominal pain. The patient, a large, large, large overweight woman, had surgery on her stomach a few days prior. When my mom entered the apartment, she knew something was a little “off.” The air was heavy and smelled faintly of almonds.

Mom inspected the hefty patient, lifting folds and searching through crevices on her torso. My mother had soon located the problem. Under the patient’s fat folds was the cut from her recent surgery. The stitches had burst days ago and the large woman’s large insides were peaking out. The patient was so fat that she did not even notice her gangrene wound.

My mother is not a visiting nurse any more.


The Monkey

Tue 10.05.10

I was in Colorado this past weekend, attending the wedding of my dear cousin, Phil. More on that next week. This sparked memories of a wedding I attended about 3 years ago.

In 2007 my cousin, John, was getting married in New York City. Thanks to my aunt’s wallet, I was able to stay at a quaint and quiet hotel in one of the nicer parts of the city. The room was small, but it had access to a courtyard containing a stone path that circled a small tree that was surrounded by lush, green ivy. There was also a foot-high stone wall. On this stone wall was a white, porcelain statue standing at about a foot and a half high. The statue glowed in the moonlight, like a warning light advising all who see it to stay away. In the morning, I wandered out into the courtyard to discover the face beyond the glow: the Monkey.

White Monkey #1

The next night, I came back to my hotel room thoroughly tipsy after the wedding. With two younger brothers and a couple of cousins in tow, we sat around making noise and chatting. I sat in the courtyard with my cousin, Lou, enjoying the cool October air. Without warning, Lou stood up from his chair, and with a twinkle in his eye, began kicking the Monkey. When the Monkey fell off the wall it was revealed to be hollow. Lou lifted the Monkey by its base and threw it at the small tree. The Monkey hit the bark with a dull “thunk,” and it dropped into the ivy. Lou was not satisfied.

White Monkey #2

While I was in an inebriated rant about the “poor monkey,” Lou was winding up like he was preparing for the Olympic hammer throw. He scuffled through the ivy, did a full 360 degree spin, and let loose his grip on the Monkey. The little porcelain fellow impacted on the tree, shattering into a million jagged pieces, like an oversize eggshell. Being “under the influence,” the commotion was too much for me to bare and I ran back into my room screaming like a maniac. The Monkey was destroyed.

Below is the last known photo of the Monkey before its demise.