Stolen

For weeks whenever I’ve encountered the Music Man he’s made a point to mention that someone is stealing his internet. As many of you remind me over and over again, there is no reasoning with crazy, so I’ve nodded my head and continued on my merry way. Because really, what else is there to do? I’ve been instructed to keep my distance and so I am. Gladly.

The other night just as I was finishing dinner and catching up on some TV (a much-needed and coveted slice of down time), I heard a very loud knock on my door. Two guesses who it was. Oh yes indeedy! Our resident whackado.*

He stands there disheveled, shirt soiled down the front with what appears to be coffee, and in his socks which seem to have been hit by the same spill as what got his shirt. His eyes jut back and forth. He’s holding what looks like some sort of modem with cables and cords trailing behind him.

This ought to be good.

Frantically he dives in- someone broke into his apartment. He’s certain of it. And they stole, of all things, the battery to his modem box. He’s saying it’s the people who have been stealing his internet. They’ve taken it. They must have come in while he was at the pet store. They’ve rendered his internet useless!

Now, I’m no detective but I’d think that if someone were hypothetically stealing your internet why would they hypothetically break in and take the battery that allows the hypothetically stolen internet to actually work? Hypothetically, of course.

So I stand there with a sympathetic look on my face listening to his whirling tale of stolen battery, internet and such and he proclaims, I AM GOING TO CALL THE COPS! I’m like, sounds like a plan, you go ahead. But! He can’t because his phone is digital and hooks up to the device he’s got in his hands. The one that doesn’t have a battery, you know, because it was stolen.

I realize that there is some of this that technically I am not grasping. How and what plugs into where and why none of it works. Huh? It’s beyond my scope of understanding and, frankly, caring. He borrows my phone and I get to stand there while he rambles to the 911 operator.

Oh yes, he dialed 911.

From what I overheard, he’d visited a precinct to file complaints twice over the weekend about this alleged internet stealing plus to say that someone has been throwing things at his window and trying to cause damage to his cable box. I’m sure they loooooove him down at the station. I counted three times him saying to the operator after regaling her with a particularly confusing bit of his tall tale, “I’m as sober as a judge.”

She probably does not believe him. Would you?

Hypothetically, I mean.

*Mr. Darcy is fond of saying “whackado” which is a new term to me.

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25 thoughts on “Stolen

  1. I feel sorry for this guy because he is such a mess. But I feel sorry for you! And the precinct! For having to deal with this guy. Good LORD.

  2. Whoa, this gets better and better. When are you going to start writing your book full of these stories? It will be great!

  3. A guy I know was convinced someone had stolen $5.00 from his wallet — after he’d entered a park. This led his friend to comment, “You’re probably right. Someone picked your pocket, took $5.00, left the other $60.00, and put your wallet back. Shall we go to the police station now or at the end of the day?”

  4. This poor guy. Duh. If you think some is “stealing” your internet connection (assuming it’s wi-fi) you protect it with a password. That is what we do at home.

  5. My kids’ uncle calls them whackados but in a completely different loving context where it is adorable and sweet and not at all how you intend for this guy. This guy sounds crazy. Literally. I mean could he be schizophrenic? The way you describe him makes me think he either does a lot of drugs…constantly…or he has a real mental illness. I would be terrified if I lived by someone so irrational and angry.

    I am so sorry you have to deal with this. I do love reading the stories and they are hysterically funny when I don’t have to deal with it for real but I feel for you for sure!

  6. You know, sometimes I envy your big-city life…then I hear stories about this guy. I think I’ll stay in my small town thankyouverymuch! HAHA!

  7. At least he keeps his clothes ON! Around here, the whackados have been climbing up on billboards and spending the day buck-ass nekkid.

  8. I think you should start knocking on his door and complaining that someone is stealing your sunlight. Be all, “IT WAS THERE 5 MINUTES AGO AND NOW IT IS GONE.”

    You guys can commiserate together about the thieves, who are probably one and the same.

  9. This guy is so! entertaining. You could, like stand there and eat popcorn while he was regaling you with the imaginary thievery, just like a movie!

    I was once convinced that someone from my apt. management company had come into my apartment without telling me because I found a piece of gum in the sink. GUM! It was EVIDENCE! Because I hardly ever chew gum! And then I remembered that Cayly had given me a piece the night before at 2:00AM, before she had helped me stumble back to my place. Awesome.

  10. Oh my God! How is that man living on his own in an apartment? He sounds very ill. You must have some serious patience, too. Wow!

  11. Uhmmmm… perhaps he needs some services. He sounds like some of the people that I work with. I wonder if he has a case manager somewhere?
    Whackadoo is perfect.

    And.. someone stole my mountain. Did you see where it went to?

  12. I love whackado, too, but I’ve always spelled it wackadoo. Interesting. It’s the perfect word for a guy like this.

    I would have the hardest time keeping a straight face while listening to his stories! There should be a movie made about your apartment building.

  13. Ah, this actually makes me feel sorry for the guy. Clearly mentally ill, and mental illness just tugs at my heart. I hate that you have to deal with it, but I have a lot of compassion for that particular type of demon. Hopefully he can get help. And not bug the living shit out of you all the time. You’re a saint.

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