Take Turns When Everything Burns

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I  was BUZZED.

I hate when that shit happens. I was washing dishes and cleaning my room, getting into my groove, which is hard if you're not in the mood. And then the intercom buzzer goes off. The shit is loud and annoying. Makes you want to walk up to the fuck on the wall and snatch it off. I press the talk button, Who is this? The reply was, "Mr. Hobobob, your social worker would like you to come downstairs. She needs to talk to you."



That's one thing that I don't like about living here. You have to walk by the main office to get the fuck out, which means that they are aware of your comings and goings. They know that I am up here, therefore they buzz me. Alright, I'll be right down, I tell them. I get some clothes on because I like cleaning in the buff, and head down, careful to check the fucking hallway for the crows, or Paula and her thugs. It's quiet, and I slip out and downstairs on the elevator, which surprisingly, did not have skeksies surfing on it.



Downstairs in the office, there is fucking asshole/ elbow com- motion. Snow White is in the middle of a maelstrom, with folders criss-crossing and clerks going through file cabinets. Something is nearing the shit fucking splattering against the blades of the fan stage. I look at Snow White when Slick-O slides past me, into her office and looks at me. "Hold on for a second please, Hobobob? I've got to talk to Snowy." Cool, I hear you.



I take a seat as Slick-O shuts the door. After a moment he re-emer- ges. "She's all yours," he says with a smile. I go to the doorway and she's standing there shuffling heavy folders. "Hobobob, do you think that you can have an apartment inspection today? I have some people coming that want to ask you some questions and go through your room to check if everything is okay." When is this, I ask her. "In about half an hour." I think about it, then say to her; sure, no problem.



I go splitsville and head back to the room, continuing my cleaning, sweeping the floor, eschewing mopping for fear that it would not dry fast enough. Besides, I save that for three in the morning labor. I finish, straightening everything and putting everything that I can in right angles, and all labels of everything facing out. I mean, I do that everyday, automatically, so don't think that it's something that's a chore. It takes less than five minutes.



TWO HOURS LATER, I get BUZZED again. What is it now? "Mr. Hobobob, can you come downstairs to meet the inspec- tors?" I thought that they were coming up to the room, I ask. "They want to meet with you downstairs. Gee, great. I'm tired and now they want me to come downstairs after I've cleaned and straightened for them. I head downstairs and into the main office where Sugar Plum is in Snow White's office. When she sees me she greets me cheerfully and leads me down the corridor to the offices in the back.



She leads me to the conference room and motions to a chair in front of a man and a woman who are sitting down with pads before them. They are all boiling teeth and shining eyes, almost with a maniac glee. They introduce themselves. I shake their hands. They have questions about the building and my apartment. Do I like it? Am I happy here? Do I have any complaints? Well, no, I tell them. I'm completely happy where I live. I mean, Hell, I even have a twenty four hour doorman. Are you fucking me?



Their jolly attitudes set me back. It's like staring at hungry people and I'm a Big Mac. Will they flip out? They make me uncom- fortable quickly and I'm edgy, shaky, uneasy. I squirm in my chair and bite my lip. "Do you come to any of the social events that they have here?" they ask. Ohhhhh, no. Not for the life of me, I tell them. I have social anxiety and I can't function in a room with a lot of people without either drinking heavily beforehand or taking drugs. "So you basically stay in your room?" Yes, unless I have to go outside to get something.



They nod. "Thank you, Mr. Hobobob." Handshakes go around. I slip out gratefully and head for the elevator. I'm glad to be out of their presence. I return to my room wondering. What the Hell was all that about?

HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2011/05/take-turns-when-everything-burns.html
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