Okay, I said I was going to bed, but I decided I had to get this down:

I was sitting in the living room when Frank walked in. Frank is the creepy guy who lives in the room above the garage. My landlord has told me many stories about how he hears voices and is a big creep. He is the only reason we've been locking the doors lately. Also, he had a big black beard, which y'know, is like the ultimate creep accessory. He works nights and wears earplugs during the day. But not just when he's sleeping, he wears them ALL THE TIME. In the summertime he walks around on the property wearing nothing but his flipflops and his tiny blue jogging shorts. He reminds me of a crazy axe murderer, which is never a good thing. Oh yeah, my landlord's granddaughter is scared to death of him.

So anyway, Frank walked in. This is okay, because sometimes comes into the house to use the phone. After using the phone in the kitchen, he comes back into the living room and asks me to not lock the doors because he needs to use the phone and the laundry room sometimes. I say okay, not mentioning that the reason the doors are locked is because my old lady landlords are afraid he's been snooping around their house when they're gone. He turns and heads back to the kitchen, but then he stops. And this is the moment that scared me.

"One more thing," he says, turning toward me again. "You haven't been giving me the finger and calling me faggot, have you?"

"No, that wasn't me," I say, shaking my head vigorously, "I would never do something like that." My landlord had talked about his hearing voices, but apparently Frank has been seeing things, too. He then went on to deny that he was homosexual ("i ain't a faggot") and to say that he can only take so much of that before he would have to retaliate. Which made me think maybe he didn't believe me and that maybe he was threatening me.

So now I'm scared of Frank. Thank God I'm now in Philadelphia, miles away from that creep.

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