Good News! We hope...

It looks like I might have snagged another job--albeit low paying--with the Garden Island Newspaper. But as Neil says, I want to sell words for a living and this is a place that sells words. What better place to find work? It's part time but it looks like I will have the opportunity to write for other publications after I put in my time as the data entry grunt. I won't find out if I have it until next week, but I did pee in a cup on Friday. (Kind of like, those Holiday Inn Express commercials).

In other news, we find out if we get our security deposit from our Sybil-like landlord in the next two days. We've been doing our best not to upset Sybil (actually male in his early 60's) by leaving our rooms early in the morning and returning at 10 P.M. This seems to keep Sybil off of our minds and out of our hair for a bit; however, we do still deadbolt the lock on our door and sleep with various weapons like a machete, level and frying pan.

For those of you who don't know who our Sybil is, allow me some introduction. We heard of Sybil through our third roommate who had been looking into renting rooms for quite sometime. She said Sybil was a sweet man living on a large property with fruit trees, the jungle in the backyard, and in a really nice house. All three of us had looked into some other rental properties but decided to get out of the tents and van for two weeks and give living with Sybil a try.
When I first met Sybil, I thought he was a peach--fuzzy little mustache on the outside and nothing but sweetness on the inside. Yet we soon realized in five days that this "peach" had a rotten pit...pah-too-eee!

It all started when one of our friends came to the house on Saturday night after a luau; he brought us some delicious fish, rice pudding and poi. We chatted quietly in the kitchen because Sybil doesn't like to close his bedroom door at night (and he sleeps in his underwear). Our friend left and took the fish with him and we went to bed. Apparently, we did not have the microscopes to see the fish bone and juice that was left behind because at 7:30, our roommate heard Sybil shouting.

"Goddamn motherf*&kers. Why does everyone have to act like children!" Then Sybil found that Neil's guitar was in his way, so he decided to move it into our bathroom in case Neil wanted to play while he was taking a bm. Why else would anyone move a musical instrument to the bathroom? But he knocked it over in his haste and our roommate heard the twangs and pangs of a guitar hitting the floor. Then Sybil got in his minivan and drove off.

None of us really knew what happened at the time but if we did something wrong, we wanted to make it right. So when Sybil came home, Neil calmly asked what Sybil was so upset about in the morning. Bad question to ask because Sybil reared up on his toes and spun his arms in whirlygig fashion. His eyes were pulled together by his eyebrows and his body constricted like a cobra's, ready to strike Neily-mouse. I heard all of the shouting and ventured out into the living room to see what was going on, and there I found Sybil, or Mr. Hyde, yelling at Neil in an aggressive manor. From that rant, we found out that the fish had drew a few ants and Sybil said something to the effect that his entire family had gotten food poisoning and his dad had to pay for all the medical expenses; I'm not sure how one was related to the other but that Sybil likes to turn the conversation back to himself; furthermore, I started to wonder how his family was food poisoned.

In addition to that, at some point he started to call Neil a heroin addict and insult his intelligence. Neil calmly stated that if Sybil had such a problem with him, we'd move out. All we would need is the rest of our rent back and our deposit, which Sybil declared we would not get anything back. Sybil said we entered into an agreement, I thought pack with the devil, and that he was not running a motel though he was running all of his tenants off and keeping their money. Needless to say, things escalated and Sybil had Neil cornered in the hallway and he was holding a glass in his hand. That's when we called the cops.

The cops told us to stay out of Sybil's way, no problem. We hustled to pack up our stuff as quickly as possible and somehow try and keep Sybil on the property while the cops tried to get there. Neil again tried to have a reasonable conversation with Sybil, and Sybil got even more animated. Neil told Sybil there was no need to put on a show as no people were watching and Sybil said that of course there people watching, didn't Neil see them?

Sybil is the type of person that when you are around him, you feel like your hands are tied behind your back and someone is peeing on your face; you're annoyed and disgusted but you can't really do anything to make it stop.

The cops showed up after Sybil left and we found out from Bob, the really nice man who owns the house and lives in a separate section off the house, that this is the second time the cops have been called on Sybil. We found out from the cops that until Sybil breaks the glass over our head or says I'm going to rip out your gall bladder and stomp on your heart, that this remains a civil matter. Kind of ironic. Civil?

The next day, Neil and I tried again to have a discussion with Sybil, which is like volunteering to put your head in a vice grip, and after the fourth time Sybil pointed to Neil and called him "junkie!" I held my hands to the heavens, looked at Sybil and said "asshole!" The conversation was futile. No further agreements were made. And since then, Sybil and I don't speak. Whenever Neil tries to say hello he is greeted coldly. Yet through all this, Sybil remains a normal human being to our third roommate.

So tomorrow or the next day, we will scrub and clean our already immaculate rooms and common areas, and calmly ask Sybil for our deposit back. And when Sybil refuses or finds a spec of dust on the bottom of the toilet base, beneath a screw, beneath a plastic cap, Neil and I will make a stand: either give us our money back or we're going to be roommates for another week. If that doesn't work, off to small claims I go.

Wish us luck. Therapists would not work because Sybil called them "the rapists." We will not engage in violence unless Sybil attacks. We will not act without reason and kindness in our hearts towards a sallow, angry man. But we will do something because what he's doing is not right.