Labor day

Page 21 is up.

A relaxing weekend. Not really by choice. We're kind of broke right now, and that forced us to be home bodies for the weekend. We went to the park, took a few walks, and watched the start of college football. A bunch of Jen's family came by before the OSU game, and we had a good time hanging out with them. Jen's step-mom who wasn't going to the game, offered to watch the boy so we could go get a bite to eat, which was nice. I downloaded a butt-load of music and stuff, including the new Decemberists album, which is awesome. I truly love bittorrent.

We finally rented V for Vendetta. I had been wanting to see it, as I was a big fan of the comic. It was really good. I hope that some people take to heart the message of not giving the government unlimited power. The original was a criticism of Thatcher, and pitted fascism vs. Anarchism, but the movie makers managed to update the story nicely. They made it a bit more about neo-conservatism vs. Liberalism, but since it is set in England, the parallels to the American political landscape are a little more hidden. Jen was put off a bit by the very comic-booky opening, where Evey is saved by V in a dark alley where she was attacked by thugs, but after the plot really started rolling, she got into it.

I hadn't read the book in a long time, yet I have some very strong memories about the time that I did. Here is the story: (kind of gross)

Back in the day, I had moved out of my parents house when I was about 15, due to some... um... "Domestic Issues". Mom was totally on board, by the way. It was best for everybody. That is a long story. For a while I lived with friends, so I could still get to school and what not, and most weekends I stayed with my brother, who had an apartment downtown, having moved out at a similarly early age from my Dad's house. This paticular weekend, I got a ride from my mom to my brother's house. I usually took the hour long bus ride that picked up at the aurora mall, so I was happy to get a ride. Since I was showing up early, I wasn't sure if he was going to be home. If not, I was to go by the Mayan two blocks away and get his keys, let myself in, and amuse myself until he got off work. The place he lived in was an old Victorian that had been converted 4 separate apartments, and Jeff lived on the top floor (what used to be the attic) with his buddy Lorne. There was one long staircase that went all the way to the top, and as I was going up, on the second landing, there was this big dude banging with all his might on the door to #3. He was very agitated and screaming something about how he left his jacket in there, but really he just wanted in. He wanted to kick some ass. I got past him with a "what's up?" and went up to see if Jeff was home. He wasn't, and the whole time I'm waiting there, the Guy is still screaming and banging on the door. I pushed past him again and hopped back in the car. Mom and I run to the Mayan, get the keys, and head back to the house. I told mom all about the weirdo in the car, and she was worried about me, so she wanted to come up with me. Good thing, too, because when we opened the main door, there was the guy. Sitting on the stairs. Holding his face in his hands like he was crying. He may have been, but we couldn't tell because of the massive amounts of blood all over his hands and on the carpet and on the walls. I said something like "dude, you okay?", to him and when he looked up, half his face was gone. Just not there anymore. Mom and I freak a little, then run upstairs. I tore the apartment apart looking for a first aid kit or anything that could help while mom called the cops. I go back down there with a roll of paper towels, to try to stop the bleeding. I remember seeing his eyebrow dangling in front of his eye and wanting to just stick it back where it was supposed to be. Pretty quick, the cops showed up, and I retreated back up to the apartment. We heard the guy telling his story, and saw him through the tiny front attic window carefully led to an ambulance and taken away.

Soon after, the cops tried to get into apartment #3. They knocked politely, the inhabitants turned up the stereo. They banged a little louder, and raised their voices slightly. They got a firm "Fuck you!" from inside. They bashed the fuck out of the door and stormed the place. There was a lot of commotion, a lot of yelling, and then through the tiny window, we saw the neighbor and his girl get violently tossed into separate police cars and taken away. Thinking the crisis was pretty much over, and having some place to be, mom left. She had to get a cop to move his car which is a chore in itself.

Then the real commotion started. Seeing something like this from beginning to end was a pretty surreal experience, and I didn't realize at the time that there is a lot of post incident work that goes on. Keep in mind that this would have been the early '90s, well before the rise of all the CSI type procedure shows that I never watched anyway. So the detectives, firemen, media, police photographers, and whoever else start stomping in and out of the building doing whatever it is that they do. I poke my head out, and tell one of the cops that I saw the whole thing and that it was me who called the cops. They had been looking for me, and lead me to a cop car, where I spent the next 45 minutes sitting in the front for once, giving a statement, and then writing that whole statement down on official looking carbon paper.

When I was done, they said I couldn't go back in, because they were busy in the hallway. Great. Now what? All my stuff was inside. I decide to go to the Mayan and see Jeff. I told him and the rest of the very interested staff the story, and decide to just hang out there till Jeff got off. He had a copy of V for Vendetta and a few other comics in his bag, and I sat in the upstairs cafe drinking coffee and read the book from cover to cover twice. When Jeff's shift was over, we went to Mary and Lou's (God how I miss thee) for a burger and then back to the house. We got up stairs, and decided to start drinking.

Now, one thing that CSI never shows is how all those people stampeding throughout the building never clean up after themselves. They leave that to you or to who-ever owns the building. So we get back and there is bits of paper, bits of medical supplies, bits of door to #3, and bits of the guy's face and circulatory system all over the place. They never even closed the door to #3, and there was so much blood every where, that the carpet made a little squishing sound where ever we stepped. It stayed that way for a while, like a few days, until somebody decided to call the landlord, who had no idea that anything had even happened. The carpet was eventually shampooed (badly) and the door jamb fixed, but rather that cleaned off the blood from the walls and door, they just painted over it. You could still see where the blood used to be when Jeff moved out a while later.

I never got called to testify or anything, and #3 was rented to somebody else pretty quick, actually, to our friend Eric if I remember correctly. In retrospect, I don't know why that wasn't a clue that everybody should move. Jeff and many of his friends stayed in that house or the one next to it for quite some time, and weird shit was always going down. Maybe the corner was cursed or something.

Probably not.