I'm curled into my layZboy, napping at like two in the morning last Thursday when I am very rudely interrupted by a goddamn drunken guy hollerin' outside.
"You bitch. Fucking lemme in. Answer your phone. ANSWER YOUR PHONE. Bitch. BITCH (somethingsomethingsomething, murmblemurmble) or I wull breakthisdoor you FUCKING SLUT--"
Another voice joins the cacophony. "Hey, pal, you need something?"
"My girlfrend is in there, and she won't let me in because she's a FUCKING BITCH."
"Buddy, you need to calm down, it's like two in the morning."
"Fuck that. She's a whooooooore." And then that fucker rang my buzzer, and I damn near fell off my chair. MoLinder's cats are sitting next to each other, watching the back door all tail-swishy and narrow-eyed, the embodiment of haughty and annoyed.
"There are drunk, obnoxious people outside, Cats," I tell them. "Chill out."
Panther, the black one, chirps loudly and stretches.
"Does she live here?" I hear from outside.
"She's upstairs. I know she is."
"Maybe you've got the wrong building."
"Fuck that, she is up there, and I'm calling her all night, and that BITCH WONE LEMME IN."
I'm just listening, alternating between fascinated and irritated. They talk for a little while longer, and finally the yelling stops, and the second guy vanishes.
The cats lose interest and wander away into the darkness of the apartment, so I focus on the television. Apparently Macy's is having a sale this weekend. I consider trying to really fall asleep in my actual bed, but then I'm distracted--
There is someone standing on my fucking porch.
"Oh, fuck that," I scoff, and watch as this shadow scans the frosted window off the door. I know he can't see inside, but I can see the outline of his sideways baseball cap, and it's obvious that he's trying to do some shady shit. So I go put on a bra. If I'm gonna kick someone off my porch, I need support.
Back at the door, I squint out there. Fucker is still on my goddamn porch. Swift as possible (which is not swift at all), I unbolt the door and swing it open, slam the screen door into the brick wall of the building and stomp out there.
"Can I help you?" I demand. It is not a question. This is business. He panics, backpedals, and scrambles over the wall of the porch, falling onto the front stairs of the building. I smile.
After he struggles to his feet, he peers over the ledge of the wall. It's level with his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm looking for my grillfrend."
"You fucking woke me up."
"Can you just lemme inthe bilding? Please? I know where she-is."
"Why were you on my porch?"
"I'm looking... fermygrillfrend. Girlfriend."
"She's obviously not here. Why were you on my porch?"
"I was just," he sighs, deeply, and shrugs. "You know, whatever. Please lemme in thebilding."
"Where are you headed?"
"Yaknow Christine? I'm looking for Christine."
Christine is my old roommate. "She moved out over a year ago."
"No, she didn't. She livesonthe...third floor."
"There is no Christine on the third floor. I know everyone in the building."
"She jus' movedin. Like Monday."
"Do you know whose room she took?"
"Hmmmmffffff. Paul. Guy named Paul. Works at High Dive." (Paul moved out? What the fuck? He's been here for like six years.)
I'm skeptical. "Okay, well, maybe, but I still don't know her. Maybe she locked you out on purpose."
"But she's wifmy girlfrend."
"Whatever, I'm not letting you in. Why don't you go catch a cab?"
"I would, buhmycarsrighthere," he points to the street, "and my girlfrend...has. My. Keyes."
"You shouldn't be driving now anyway, dude. Go home."
"Home's Joliet. You know Joliet? Thass home."
"Then I can't help you. Get off the steps. Find your girlfriend in the morning."
"I just wanna go inside."
"I don't give a shit."
"I get it. I unnerstan. I do. Sometimes you gotta be a bitch. I wouldn't lemme in either. I'm a good guy. I just wanna be wifmy grillfrend."
"Maybe she doesn't want to be with you."
"Maybe. No. No, not maybe, we have a house. We have a house. She's not answering her phone. Could you lemme in?"
"Dude, get off the steps. Get a hotel or something."
"I...I don't know."
"Get off the steps or I'm calling the cops."
"Okay. Fine. I unnerstan. S'good you're here to...help."
"Have a good night. Get the fuck off the steps."
And then he left.