There was a knock on my window a few afternoons ago and there was skinny Henry with that dirty cap on his head staring at me. He wanted me to let him in. Against my better judgment, I did.
“Hey, man,” he said. “The landlord ain’t here is he?”
“No,” I replied.
“Good,” Henry said. “I need to get my stuff out of the apartment.”
“Go for it,” I said.
I was hoping Henry would go upstairs, try to use his key to open the apartment door and soon realize that the lock has been changed. I was also hoping that Henry, after discovering this fact, would simply leave. Yes, I am a fool. He knocked on my door.
“Hey, I can’t get in up there!” Henry said. “The lock is different.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Did you know about this the other day?”
“Henry, you told me it wasn’t any of my business,” I replied. “I just left it at that.”
“Ya should have said somethin’.”
“You ain’t sorry,” Henry said. “Now how the hell am I gonna get that crock-pot back?”
“I fix all my meals in that thing and now it’s all locked up like it’s been stolen from me.”
“What about the rest of your things?”
“I miss that crock-pot.”
I stood in my doorway just staring at Henry feeling more than a little annoyed. He quit his job because he couldn’t get “motivated” to work, got himself evicted because he wasn’t paying his rent and now, weeks later, he’s complaining to me about his damn crock-pot.
“Ain’t you got nothin’ to say?” Henry finally asks.
“No, not really,” I said. “It’s not my problem.”
“You got an extra cigarette I. . .”
“No,” I said.
“Well, when you see the landlord, could ya tell him to go get that crock-pot and give it to you?” Henry asks. “I’ll stop back in a few. . .”
“Keep me out of it,” I said.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“If you want your crock-pot back, call the landlord and make arrangements to have it returned,” I said. “Put on your big boy pants and handle your own problems. It ain’t any of my business—remember?”
And with that said, I closed my apartment door on Henry. I watched out my window as he walked away from the building looking all defeated.
I’ve had enough of Henry. As far as I’m concerned, this stuff about missing his crock-pot is a crock of shit.
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