Update:
Well, there have been no new personal encounters with the old man-hag, but I was lucky enough to wake up yesterday to another one of his clever typewritten notes:
"I want him out by the last day of the month, and no longer. I will sue for money if he doesn't do as I wish. I want him out by the last day of the month, and no longer."
Clarence Darrow-Stumpo then goes on to use a straight edge to underline in red ink the important words. Even I, Stumpo's mortal enemy cannot argue with the fact that just about all of the words are the important ones.
Hopefully, I will have some pictures of the man himself by Friday. The guy's face is goofy enough as it is, buy I can only imagine what it will look like in contorted surprise at my pulling a camera out to immortalize his crusty mug.
Which day am I supposed to be out by, again?
Update:
So I moved the last of my shit out last night after finding temporary shelter with a family friend. Stumpo has been on the downlow for the past several days, not answering phones or returning messages in an attempt to dodge paying back my security deposit. This morning, I decided to pay the old man a visit at his office to find out what the problem with his phone is (I'm pretty good with new technology like the telephone).
I pull up to the building to find Stumpo's purple luxury sports car parked in the back. I pull up next to his whip, grab my disposable Kodak and head to his door. Loud knock on the door. Nothing. Louder knock on the blinded office window. Still nothing. He has to come out sometime, so I decide to wait it out. About ten minutes later, he comes out into his lobby, but does not open the glass door to let us share a few memories and laughs. He yells to me through the glass:
"COME BACK IN 20 MINUTES!"
"WHAAAAT?" I pretend not to hear.
"COME BACK IN 20 MINUTES!"
"WHAAAAT?" I lean my ear close to the glass
"COME BACK IN 20 MINUTES!"
"WWWHHHHHYYYYY?"
"NEVERMIND WHY"
I pull out my ninja-cam at this point, and furiously click away. Fuck! The damn camera has one of those wheels that you need to roll to pull the film to a decent position. I quickly spin the wheel and aim for another shot. Scared and confused, Stumpo hides his face behind a decorative circle on the door. I lean to the side to get a better vantage point, and he adjusts. We dance like this for a few seconds before it dawns on the handsome devil that he could simply walk back into his office and shut the door. On his way, I snapped my second piece of art.
OK, I thought. The small time crook is probably busy conducting official business on his typewriter. I oblige and give the man his time.
Loud knock on the door.
"WAIT A FEW MORE MINUTES. THE COPS ARE ON THEIR WAY"
Fair enough. I nod and tap my forehead with my index finger to let him know that we have just connected. I park across the street, crack open a bag of pistachio nuts and a pack of smokes and wait. About 1/2 hour later, I see the good fella open up his door and wave me over to him. I jump out my ride and head over, leaving my camera behind in case da po-po show up and try to take my thunder. As I head over, I see another of his official blue half-sheets in his hand. This can't not be good, I say out loud to myself.
When I arrive at his door, he unlocks his door and tells me that the coppers will be a while *refused to respond to his bullshit*. He presents me with some sort of release form. I didn't get to keep it, but it looked something like this:
I tell him that this is unacceptable and that i need my entire deposit back. At this, he becomes visibly pissed off and tries to shut the door. I accidently grabbed the door and made sure that it stayed open. We cannot simply close dialogue like this.
"I need my whole deposit back, Mr. Stumpo"
"If you refuse to sign this, you will get nothing. Let go of the door!"
"I need my whole deposit back, Mr. Stumpo"
"If you don't let go of the door, I'm gonna kick you in the fucking head!"
He puts both hands on the door and tries to force it shut with all the pathetic might that any overdue mouth-breather would. I give a little slack on the door before pulling it back open. Stump reels back in surprise and cups his hands to his mouth:
"HEEEELLLLP!"
"HEEEELLLLP!"
I lean back and point to him with a 'What's up with this dude?' look on my face and hold onto the door for a few seconds more.
"Go stick your head... IN A TOILET!"
Oh no, sista, you did NOT!
At this, I let go of the door with a chuckle in my heart.
A little while later, I find out that Stumpo had called my mother (I must have put her down as a reference somewhere), and told her that her son is drunk and driving around on public roads. She tells him that she will make sure I stay on private roads while drinking and hangs up the phone.
Stumpo sent me a check for 209.21...he listed:
Damage to window screen: $38.something
Unpaid rent:$90 something (A few days before I moved in, I moved my shit in because of time restraints)
Keys not returned: $10 - not sure where this dude gets his keys made
I never drive drunk on public streets anymore because of this experience. Consider it a lesson learned.