LJ Idol Week 7, in which management is not impressed with someone's deposit
I live in a high rise downtown apartment building full of wannabe fancy-ass lofts and wannabe fancy-ass people.
I say wannabe fancy-ass as opposed to 100% USDA certified fancy-ass because it's all pretense. The management likes to think the place is fancy-ass, but in reality, it's one of those places where the Powers That Be will spend a ridiculous amount of money installing a crystal chandelier in the lobby but can't seem to find the time or money to install things like functional washing machines in the laundry rooms.
Wannabe fancy-ass.
In all fairness, the residents are a mixed bag, but a lot of them are wannabe fancy-ass too. There's a lot of popped collar douchery and stereotypical yuppiness afoot (boo), and there are some fun quirky people too (yay!), and there are ladies who get in the elevators with giant designer purses and tiny designer dogs poking their heads out of the giant designer purses and it's like something out of a ridiculous cartoon. Pretty funny, really.
Or at least it was all harmless absurdities until someone apparently got tired of having their animal companion choices limited to fluffy, fuzzy things and decided to take a walk on the wild side. Or, more accurately, take a slither on the wild side, as I returned home one day this past summer to find the following note plastered on my door:
{Dear Resident,
An exotic snake was captured in the third floor hallway over the weekend. We have contacted local authorities and have had a snake expert inspect the common areas and units on the third floor. No other snakes or exotic pets were found. We are continuing to investigate the matter, but want to remind all residents that exotic pets are not permitted at the community. If you have any information about this incident, please contact the management office at [phone number redacted]
Further investigation (read: I went into the lobby laughing my ass off and asked the person at the front desk WTF was going on) revealed it was a cobra. Yes, you read that right, an actual live-ass hooded fucking cobra.
Apparently some rather intoxicated residents were walking down the third floor hallway in the middle of the night, saw it there, thought it was a rubber snake somebody had put there as a prank, went to go pick it up, and then had an extremely sobering experience and found out very quickly that it was not in fact a rubber snake. So they contacted the emergency maintenance crew. Who thought it was a prank. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Once the management caught word of this and realized it was very much NOT a prank, they concluded the best course of action would be to scare the crap out of the entire building, move to Defcon level five, work everyone into a panic, and start going on this epic witch hunt to find the culprit, solve the mystery, and restore the illusion of peaceful fancy-pantsery to the realm.
It seemed they were having difficulty getting to the bottom of it though, so I thought I'd help them out by putting up flyers in the elevators. And since they wanted to be so damn fancy-pants, I figured I'd help them out with that as well. I did, however, take one small liberty and assume, under the circumstances, that a wizard hunt would be way more fun than a witch hunt.
{Dear Filthy Muggles, House Elves, Hufflepuffs, and Other Unsavory Creatures:
It has come to my attention that, over the course of the weekend, one of you pathetic scumbags managed to release my prized and treasured horcrux - a snake by the name of Nagini. To you vile mudbloods and muggle loving filth, she appears to be a regular exotic snake, but you would be unwise to trust your weak and inferior senses. This snake is, in fact, a piece of my soul, and she is therefore a source of magic so dark it can stop time itself. If you don't believe me, look at the downtown construction schedule. Should you encounter this fantastic beast, do NOT attempt to hex her, subdue her with a stun spell, or lure her with doggy treats from the lobby. Instead, simply instruct her to return to the nearest haunted graveyard, unregistered rat animagus, or proud member of the Ancient and most Inbred House of Black. She will respond to English, Parseltongue, or any Iggy Azalea song, as that is the true language of evil. You can also place her in the Chamber of Secrets on the first floor, known to you muggle slimeballs as [REDACTED] Coffee. (Come on, did you REALLY think a place could charge four dollars for a bagel and not be affiliated with the Dark Lord?!)
Crucio on all of you, you lowly poxes upon wizarding society!
Thank you for your cooperation in this matter.
Sincerely Yours,
Tom Marvolo Riddle
A.K.A. Dark Lord "Voldie" Voldemort
Company President of Death Eaters Anonymous
Angsty Emo Monster before Twilight Made It Cool}
Apparently the Dark Lord's efforts were not appreciated, as the flyers kept disappearing. But being magic and all, the Dark Lord made sure they kept re-appearing. This went on for several days, and eventually two more announcements were made by the management. One was that the cobra culprit had been found and "appropriate action had been taken." The other was a reminder that if anyone wished to hang flyers in common areas of the building, management's approval was needed beforehand.
Well then! It seems *some* people just don't appreciate the fancy-pants elegance of dark magic! The nerve of them, really.
Or on second thought, maybe they do. Because if installing chandeliers in the lobby while neglecting the busted-ass laundry room doesn't constitute practicing the dark arts, I really don't know what does.
I say wannabe fancy-ass as opposed to 100% USDA certified fancy-ass because it's all pretense. The management likes to think the place is fancy-ass, but in reality, it's one of those places where the Powers That Be will spend a ridiculous amount of money installing a crystal chandelier in the lobby but can't seem to find the time or money to install things like functional washing machines in the laundry rooms.
Wannabe fancy-ass.
In all fairness, the residents are a mixed bag, but a lot of them are wannabe fancy-ass too. There's a lot of popped collar douchery and stereotypical yuppiness afoot (boo), and there are some fun quirky people too (yay!), and there are ladies who get in the elevators with giant designer purses and tiny designer dogs poking their heads out of the giant designer purses and it's like something out of a ridiculous cartoon. Pretty funny, really.
Or at least it was all harmless absurdities until someone apparently got tired of having their animal companion choices limited to fluffy, fuzzy things and decided to take a walk on the wild side. Or, more accurately, take a slither on the wild side, as I returned home one day this past summer to find the following note plastered on my door:
{Dear Resident,
An exotic snake was captured in the third floor hallway over the weekend. We have contacted local authorities and have had a snake expert inspect the common areas and units on the third floor. No other snakes or exotic pets were found. We are continuing to investigate the matter, but want to remind all residents that exotic pets are not permitted at the community. If you have any information about this incident, please contact the management office at [phone number redacted]
Further investigation (read: I went into the lobby laughing my ass off and asked the person at the front desk WTF was going on) revealed it was a cobra. Yes, you read that right, an actual live-ass hooded fucking cobra.
Apparently some rather intoxicated residents were walking down the third floor hallway in the middle of the night, saw it there, thought it was a rubber snake somebody had put there as a prank, went to go pick it up, and then had an extremely sobering experience and found out very quickly that it was not in fact a rubber snake. So they contacted the emergency maintenance crew. Who thought it was a prank. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Once the management caught word of this and realized it was very much NOT a prank, they concluded the best course of action would be to scare the crap out of the entire building, move to Defcon level five, work everyone into a panic, and start going on this epic witch hunt to find the culprit, solve the mystery, and restore the illusion of peaceful fancy-pantsery to the realm.
It seemed they were having difficulty getting to the bottom of it though, so I thought I'd help them out by putting up flyers in the elevators. And since they wanted to be so damn fancy-pants, I figured I'd help them out with that as well. I did, however, take one small liberty and assume, under the circumstances, that a wizard hunt would be way more fun than a witch hunt.
{Dear Filthy Muggles, House Elves, Hufflepuffs, and Other Unsavory Creatures:
It has come to my attention that, over the course of the weekend, one of you pathetic scumbags managed to release my prized and treasured horcrux - a snake by the name of Nagini. To you vile mudbloods and muggle loving filth, she appears to be a regular exotic snake, but you would be unwise to trust your weak and inferior senses. This snake is, in fact, a piece of my soul, and she is therefore a source of magic so dark it can stop time itself. If you don't believe me, look at the downtown construction schedule. Should you encounter this fantastic beast, do NOT attempt to hex her, subdue her with a stun spell, or lure her with doggy treats from the lobby. Instead, simply instruct her to return to the nearest haunted graveyard, unregistered rat animagus, or proud member of the Ancient and most Inbred House of Black. She will respond to English, Parseltongue, or any Iggy Azalea song, as that is the true language of evil. You can also place her in the Chamber of Secrets on the first floor, known to you muggle slimeballs as [REDACTED] Coffee. (Come on, did you REALLY think a place could charge four dollars for a bagel and not be affiliated with the Dark Lord?!)
Crucio on all of you, you lowly poxes upon wizarding society!
Thank you for your cooperation in this matter.
Sincerely Yours,
Tom Marvolo Riddle
A.K.A. Dark Lord "Voldie" Voldemort
Company President of Death Eaters Anonymous
Angsty Emo Monster before Twilight Made It Cool}
Apparently the Dark Lord's efforts were not appreciated, as the flyers kept disappearing. But being magic and all, the Dark Lord made sure they kept re-appearing. This went on for several days, and eventually two more announcements were made by the management. One was that the cobra culprit had been found and "appropriate action had been taken." The other was a reminder that if anyone wished to hang flyers in common areas of the building, management's approval was needed beforehand.
Well then! It seems *some* people just don't appreciate the fancy-pants elegance of dark magic! The nerve of them, really.
Or on second thought, maybe they do. Because if installing chandeliers in the lobby while neglecting the busted-ass laundry room doesn't constitute practicing the dark arts, I really don't know what does.