Tales from the Ghetto
I'll try to make this quick, because Donnie's hovering over my shoulder, dispensing editorial advice... We moved into our new house six days ago, and almost blew it up the first night. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but only slightly. The guy from the gas company couldn't figure out how to turn off the heater in the bathroom, so when we walked in the first night, gas had been leaking for eight or nine hours, and we had to open the front door to air the house out. We could smell the gas from outside. Donnie said, "If your mom had come over here, she would've been blown across to the next house!" (Mom smokes a lot.) We won't be using that heater in the bathroom. There's too much play in the switch, and it has to be straight up and down, or gas leaks out. Joe came in to help us look for the source of the leak, and I said, "Are you sure that lever won't accidentally slip in the middle of the night?" He said, "No, there won't be any Final Destination shit in here, but I wouldn't touch this heater." Mary had warned me it might set the curtains on fire if we didn't raise them. She has the curtains draped through these weird whatchamathingies (yeah, I clearly lack the interior design vocabulary to accurately describe what I'm talking about), and Joe and Donnie fucked them up trying to get to the heater. I insisted that they put things back the way they'd found it, and Joe muttered something about needinging Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to straighten out the bathroom curtains.
My aunt Mary rented the house for $300 a month a few months ago, but never moved in, because first Granny broke her hip, and now Granny's having problems with her blood sugar. So Mary's staying at Granny's house to take care of her, and Donnie and I are taking over the house payments. It's a nice little place, which is furnished except for a washer and dryer, and bigger than some of the apartments I've seen in Lafayette. It's about fifteen feet away from the railroad track, so every time a train passes, we feel the house rumble. The first night we stayed there, trains woke me up six times, but now, I can pretty much sleep through them. I never realized how many trains pass through New Iberia. During the day, one comes along every fifteen or twenty minutes.
We're back on foot again. Donnie came into town last Wednesday, and as we were on our way to Granny's house to pick up the house key from Mary, the axle holding on the front driver's side tire came off. Right in the middle of Weeks Street, so we were blocking traffic! We wound up on the side of the road with our luggage, and had to call a wrecker. Connie drove down to inspect the damage, took a look at the tire, which was at a right angle to the van, and said, "Well, that doesn't look pretty." Ha! No shit! Later, I heard that Mom and Jimmy had recently "fixed" that axle. Jimmy told Granny, "I wonder why it broke again so soon. You know everything breaks on Jaime." Donnie said, "What the hell did she do? Glue the tire on with a wad of tobacco?"
Naturally, there was no one around to help us move all our shit, and I threw a fit, saying I absolutely wasn't spending another night at Mom's house, so we tried dragging our luggage in suitcases on wheels, but we were exhausted before we made it to the end of the block. Finally, I said Joe would have to get up and come help us, because there are no sidewalks down St. Peter, and there was no way in hell we could roll those suitcases through knee-high grass on the side of the road. We'd walked through it the night before, and come out with caterpillars all over our pants. When Donnie tried to drag one of the cases off the road, I yelled, "Get that out of there! The caterpillars!" I couldn't help picturing going out somewhere, and having a dead caterpillar fall out of my shirt. So I called Joe, who was babysitting, and made him give us a lift. That was also the night of the big gas leak.
Donnie witnessed a shooting in the neighborhood Saturday. Four black guys either robbed or tried to rob a convenience store at the corner of Center St. and St. Peter, and shot the clerk in the foot. We've been hauling our laundry to Mom's house on foot. We don't have a light on the front porch, and when we came out tonight, lugging a garbage bag, Donnie said, "Hey, do you realize how suspicious we look? I'm wearing a beanie, you're dressed all in black, and we're carrying a trash bag. We're like something out of Tales from the Crypt." Tales from the Ghetto, maybe.
I've probably already got the reputation of neighborhood basketcase, because on our first day there, I ran over the lawnmower of the guy who cuts our grass, and threw a big fit because the neighbor's truck was parked in my way. I had borrowed Mom's car to go to the store, and was late returning it, as usual, so when I tried to back out of the driveway, I completely overlooked Pepper's lawnmower. It didn't seem to be damaged, and I knew Mom would probably bitch at me for being late, so I tried to back out again, but there was the neighbor's truck, and I could just see hitting that, too. Then I thought Pepper was laughing at me for being a bad driver, so I ran into the house yelling, "Why the fuck is there a lawnmower in our yard?!?!" Donnie went outside and explained that I was crazy and can't drive, so they all moved out of my way, and everything was okay.
My aunt Mary rented the house for $300 a month a few months ago, but never moved in, because first Granny broke her hip, and now Granny's having problems with her blood sugar. So Mary's staying at Granny's house to take care of her, and Donnie and I are taking over the house payments. It's a nice little place, which is furnished except for a washer and dryer, and bigger than some of the apartments I've seen in Lafayette. It's about fifteen feet away from the railroad track, so every time a train passes, we feel the house rumble. The first night we stayed there, trains woke me up six times, but now, I can pretty much sleep through them. I never realized how many trains pass through New Iberia. During the day, one comes along every fifteen or twenty minutes.
We're back on foot again. Donnie came into town last Wednesday, and as we were on our way to Granny's house to pick up the house key from Mary, the axle holding on the front driver's side tire came off. Right in the middle of Weeks Street, so we were blocking traffic! We wound up on the side of the road with our luggage, and had to call a wrecker. Connie drove down to inspect the damage, took a look at the tire, which was at a right angle to the van, and said, "Well, that doesn't look pretty." Ha! No shit! Later, I heard that Mom and Jimmy had recently "fixed" that axle. Jimmy told Granny, "I wonder why it broke again so soon. You know everything breaks on Jaime." Donnie said, "What the hell did she do? Glue the tire on with a wad of tobacco?"
Naturally, there was no one around to help us move all our shit, and I threw a fit, saying I absolutely wasn't spending another night at Mom's house, so we tried dragging our luggage in suitcases on wheels, but we were exhausted before we made it to the end of the block. Finally, I said Joe would have to get up and come help us, because there are no sidewalks down St. Peter, and there was no way in hell we could roll those suitcases through knee-high grass on the side of the road. We'd walked through it the night before, and come out with caterpillars all over our pants. When Donnie tried to drag one of the cases off the road, I yelled, "Get that out of there! The caterpillars!" I couldn't help picturing going out somewhere, and having a dead caterpillar fall out of my shirt. So I called Joe, who was babysitting, and made him give us a lift. That was also the night of the big gas leak.
Donnie witnessed a shooting in the neighborhood Saturday. Four black guys either robbed or tried to rob a convenience store at the corner of Center St. and St. Peter, and shot the clerk in the foot. We've been hauling our laundry to Mom's house on foot. We don't have a light on the front porch, and when we came out tonight, lugging a garbage bag, Donnie said, "Hey, do you realize how suspicious we look? I'm wearing a beanie, you're dressed all in black, and we're carrying a trash bag. We're like something out of Tales from the Crypt." Tales from the Ghetto, maybe.
I've probably already got the reputation of neighborhood basketcase, because on our first day there, I ran over the lawnmower of the guy who cuts our grass, and threw a big fit because the neighbor's truck was parked in my way. I had borrowed Mom's car to go to the store, and was late returning it, as usual, so when I tried to back out of the driveway, I completely overlooked Pepper's lawnmower. It didn't seem to be damaged, and I knew Mom would probably bitch at me for being late, so I tried to back out again, but there was the neighbor's truck, and I could just see hitting that, too. Then I thought Pepper was laughing at me for being a bad driver, so I ran into the house yelling, "Why the fuck is there a lawnmower in our yard?!?!" Donnie went outside and explained that I was crazy and can't drive, so they all moved out of my way, and everything was okay.