Reason #286 May Cannot Come Soon Enough

My Jonnyboy Scott and I were off to Wednesday night banjo club. Sitting in the backseat of the car, I hear a Le Tigre ringtone...and quietly hit ignore. When the tone goes off a second time, I inspect further to learn the root of this minor interruption. It is none other than my neighbor Amit who lives in the apartment next to mine! What on earth could she be calling about?

Hey Amit!! What's going on??!!

Hey, have you been home at all today?
No, I've been out at work since 6 this morning and spent about 20 minutes at home tonight. I got home and pretty much left...I'm in the car now. Why? What's up?

Well...have you noticed that really bad smell in our apartment the past week or so?
Ummmmm...no...

Well, I came home today and there was an ambulance in front of the building. Apparently there was a guy who lived in the basement...he died. The groundskeeper found him today. They think he was there a month.


WHAT THE HELL HOW DO I RESPOND TO THAT???!?!?!

Once upon a time, back in the summer of 2009, I was outside examining the mail boxes near the front door of my apartment building. Twelve??? Who lives in apartment 12? These bastards at HHP really need to get their shit in gear and update their mailboxes, for there are only 11 apartments here!!!

That's what I thought. I have a sweet relationship with my next door neighbor. Nick, who lives the next house over. He's always out grilling, reading, lounging, and always asking, "Hey kid, how ya makin aht so far?" Considerate ole guy. Was out one day having one of my weekly Chats With Nick. We were BSing about my landlord. The number of apartments/mailboxes was the topic of the hour. He informed me that there's this big, black, reclusive dude living in the basement, in apartment number twelve. His deal? No one really knows. And my neighbor knows EVERYTHING about EVERYONE in this 'hood. Known tidbits:

He's big.
He's black.
He's a recluse.
He lives in apartment 12.
Apartment 12 is in the cellar. Its entrance is on the side of the building.

Yep, that pretty well covers it.

Oh wait, and he died. And no one knew. For at least long enough for the other tenants in this building to go, hmmm, what a funny odor.

Amit had told me that the smell had improved greatly today, since the ambulance came. I hung up the phone with her and about two minutes after I did, I realized...YES, THERE HAD BEEN A FUNK FLOATING IN THE LOBBY THE PAST FEW DAYS!!!! Silly me thought it was some strange unappetizing ethnic dish. I'd be an asshole if I said, yes, some might call it that.

The thing that jerks another tear to my eye (and sends a chill up my spine)? This is the second story involving stench, lonely people, death, and basements that I've heard in two weeks. That's far too many. I feel like some of these should be in those Scary Stories books from Ohio.

Oh, Alvin Schwartz, you really do put the Oh in Ohio.