Thursday, November 11, 2010

M & J, Married with Children

Turned out that Crazy Miz M* & J the Fix-it Man** had been married many years ago, and they had three children, one boy & two girls.  That was so long ago that, by the time M, and later J, rented from me separately, I’d forgotten I ever knew that fact.  But it came to light painfully after each of them died.

If I haven’t told you before, I should now.  Both M & J lived in Section 8 apartments.  They lived on social security, which means they didn’t have two dimes to rub together, and their apartments, while both clean, had nothing of value.  M’s house was decorated in Early Whatever, and J’s was mostly Mid-century Fixit. 

One daughter worked in the crack/prostitution industry, and the other had a reserved bed in the psych ward of the hospital.  The son joined the military as soon as he turned 18, and got the hell out of town.  But they reunited, in a way, when their parents died.

After M, their mother died, one of her daughters came to the office sporting a black eye, delivered by her sister for trying to “steal” her mother’s 20-year-old TV.  The other daughter came separately, asking for a key to “clean the apartment”.  “Out” was the unspoken word in that sentence.  The son stayed the hell out of town.

After J, their father, died, the son called asking if I’d set aside his father’s toolbox, the only thing he wanted.  The daughters came separately, each demanding the same toolbox, as well as anything else they could get their hands on. 

These were the same two who accused Dave of stealing from their dad.  I didn't trust either with a key, nor did I want to see J's tool box sold for a baggie of crack.  So I “stole” the toolbox out of the apartment and saved it for the son, and told the girls I’d unlock the apartment door and they could take whatever they wanted. 

M & J should've contributed to my Fiancee Jar instead of getting married.

*See 9/25/10
**See 10/24/10 


  1. I just reread almost every post, enjoying them as much as the first time. Today I saw something that reminded me of your stories. A not-so-young-anymore husband and wife moving a hefty piece of furniture together into one of their "units." Somehow it reminded me of your tales of you and "the man." Go figure.