Super
Apartment 1A has never given me so much as a McDonald’s gift certificate at Christmas time, even though she has thousands of dollars under her mattress.
1B is a filthy pig. Clean your bathroom, man!
I once showed up to replace the window unit in 1C and found Mrs. S. still in her nightie at 4:30 in the afternoon. I thought I heard a noise from the hall closet. At 5:30, Mr. S. said hello to me while I was washing the sidewalk. He looked like he was on his way home from work.
2A owns a surprising number of toys for a man without children.
Apartment 2B always smells like a skunk that someone has tried to dress up with Old Spice. But he pays his rent on time, and once he helped me clean out the apartment after a long-time tenant passed away. (We found her after a couple of days.)
I have never seen so many dirty magazines in my life as the day that a pipe broke under the sink in 2C. He wouldn’t make eye contact with me, but then he grinned like a maniac when I caught him staring at my ass. Creepy.
Mr. J. in 3A is carrying on with the girl in 4A. They think nobody knows, but the only person in the building who’s in the dark is Mrs. J., who also suffers from the misguided belief that I don’t know she got a dog.
3B tells me everything. He thinks if he keeps me in the loop, I won’t tell anyone else what he went to prison for.
Note: The prompt was to write something about any sense of the word “busted.”
© 2009 Edward F. Gumnick
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