Wrong Turn Meets The People Under The Stairs!


*****According to my handy-dandy trustworthy WordPress stats, you can’t stay away from this particular post. Tell me, what’s so fucking attractive about this post? Or Grady? Or Sandford and Son for that matter? Nevermind, I can totally see the attractiveness in Sandford and Son-but Grady is gone and the Sandfords were never really here to begin with (though my tags sorta say otherwise)…Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind having Fred over for dinner occasionally.

Here have a listen to the funkiest, coolest, most bad-assed tv show theme of all time…then again, since you keep searching for S&S and ending up here, I don’t have to tell you how great the theme is, do I?****

Funny how a completely different world can hover so close to the one you’ve managed to make into your home. What strange, mysterious beings lurk outside of YOUR door?

Today was laundry day…as if that wasn’t bad enough, the dryer in the laundry room upstairs, which is about 8 feet from my apartment door is broken…AGAIN. Which meant that we had to tread into an unknown, dangerous territory in our quest for dry laundry: the downstairs laundry room!

The stairs that separate the two floors also separate the two species-although I’m fairly convinced that the neighbor across the hall is in fact a former member of the downstairs species…She’s definitely not one of us…there’s a lot of grunting that comes from her direction, with the occasional curse word-as if she’s trying very hard to learn the spoken language. The bathing habits seem to also be very different, since today, while I was tending to the wet stray cat outside (more about that in a sec), she passed me with her usual grunt. As U probably know, my sense of smell is beyond a powerful force! I could easily get a job sniffing out VERY bad people…since they’re susually what I sniff around here anyway. But the powerful punch she carried today was beyond stinky! Something akin to a urinal in the boys restroom in highschool, a wet ashtray and maybe some sort of viral something I’d rather not know about. Even the cat seemed shaken at the whiff of ick she left behind.

So I was none too pleased when I realized we’d have to venture down there…unchartered territory: where fly ribbons decorate the balconies, and there’s a trail of some sort of tiny bones most of the time. It’s a dark path to the laundry room, one that requires you to walk under the stairs-hoping U don’t step into or onto some thing or some one. But Nile and I took our chance and armed with our can of mighty disinfectant spray (U didn’t expect me to NOT disinfect the machines, did U?), we made our way into the brightly lit laundry room. Aah…a most colorful place where art adorns the walls…Art such as the almighty innovative “Fuck me please?” written in something that could very well be the unidientified specimen’s own potty business! And then there’s the two giant sized garbage cans, that haven’t been emptied since I’ve been here-full of things like lint that resembles deceased grannies and empty Mountain Dew cases…Proof that the creatures do in fact drink soda. I’m still wondering how they acquire this soda: Perhaps they knick it off the delivery truck at the nearby Save-A-Lot store..(aaahhh Save-a-lot, get-a-little…best not to start me on that wonderful supermarket right now!)

As Nile and I were quickly degerming the dryer and hurriedly shoving our clothes in, someone began knocking at the door. I pretended  not to notice, but Nile isn’t as experienced as I am with dangerous unknown species, so he made the mistake of turning to look. That’s when he saw the pitiful little head peeking through the tiny window at us. He quickly turned to me and in the same way I tend to speak out of the corner of my mouth (a technique that some call ‘Prison speak’, though I prefer the Drew Barrymore sideways lispy comparison), he says “what should we do? There’s someone staring at us!” So, I replied with my sideways speak: ” just keep talking and we’ll pretend we didn’t hear it.”

This didn’t actually work, because the faint knocking continued while we loaded the coins into the machine- so when I turned to open the door, I was delighted to see that there was no longer a tiny face in the window. Imagine my surprise when i opened the door wide and heard a weak, pained whimper.

The door opens directly in front of the apartment door next to the laundry room and sandwiched between the two doors was a tiny,thin specimen with sad bug eyes and matted brown hair. Something that resembled a human child-enough to perhaps have even been  human once upon a time, before she was kidnapped by wolves or bears or whatever it is that lives below and has an unhealthy thirst for Mountain Dew. Of course my heart softened at the sight and I asked “Oh, are you ok?”  to which I got no reply…just a wide-eyed grin as she chewed on her fingers. I was really scared that I’d smashed her big time, so I asked “Did I get you with the door?” and I actually got a replythis time: a nod of her pitiful little head. So, I immediately began apologizing, just as the door of the apartment opened and out stepped what surely must have been the daddy of the clan…The tiny one ran past him giggling and he glared at me before shutting the door of his lair-but not before I caught a quick peek into his cave…. And a cave it was indeed! I really didn’t mean to look- I never mean to spot the things I always seem to discover (It’s not my fault ™) but I didn’t realize there were still homes that had dirt floors, and now I know where the neighborhood’s missing dogs have gone to because there were lots of pieces of something that resembled poodle fur on the walls and floor and a smell that surely must have been canine stew! We quickly ran up the stairs only to be followed closely by the urinal lady that had apparently been visiting the Cave Dwellers (all the more proof that she’s a spy for the other beings!) and just as the creeping stench was right on my heels and I could feel the usual grunt she does between cigarette puffs on the back of my neck, we made it into the safety of our own world.

Though now I’m wondering how long we’ll be safe…How long will it be before they  break through the barrier of our metal door and devour us? Only time will tell, I guess-so please, keep us in your most sincere prayers.

Even more proof that the urinal lady isn’t human:

There’s a stray cat that lives in the hallway. A darling cat that I adore-though I hate being attached to living things-especially since most felines, canines and any other living thing I’ve ever considered a ‘pet’ or that I fall in love with tends to die, but I’ve grown quite fond of this cat-whom I’ve named Grady as a tribute to Grady from the brilliant 70’s show Sanford and Son. Why? Because he looks and sounds like Grady-thus the name, silly!  Today Grady had been caught in the rain and he was shivering and soaked to the bone. So being the mother of all living things-because my maternal instincts work overtime, (despite my dismay sometimes) I took an old t-shirt out to the hall and towel-dried Grady-just as I would towel-dry any baby. Grady loved the attention, purring softly and tilting his head and meowing in Grady speak: “Get my ears, honey, and please do something with my dripping tail, will you?” This fussing reminded me of when I was small and used to dress my kittens and dogs up in  doll clothes…so I was inspired to actually put the t-shirt on Grady, or at least over his head…He was fine with this until he couldn’t see or touch his tail, then he sort of freaked and I took it off for him. Then Grady meows “Say, honey would U happen to have a bite or two for me? I sure am hungry”, and of course I couldn’t leave him hungry, so I warmed some of Mother’s Easter ham and chopped it into tiny bits for him. Obviously, Grady loved the ham because he tore into it immediately, and after checking to make sure there were no bad kitties waiting to steal Grady’s food, I turned to walk back into my place-only to be face to face with the urinal wench, who was eyeing me like a cheeseburger! I smiled and politely mumbled “Just feeding our neighborhood stray”. She replied with a grunt and a cigarette puff.

A few minutes later, I heard her door open and close several times-and when I thought the coast was clear, I quietly opened the front door to take a peek at Grady…Sadly, Grady was gone, as was all of the ham-and there’s no way he could have eaten all of it that fast-famished or not. Needless to say, I’m worried about Grady..I’m wondering if he’s become a side dish for the canine stew and whether the ham is being used as that little extra something for the feast? Perhaps you could also say a prayer for Grady as well….


And no, don’t bother asking me HOW I know what the boy’s highschool restroom smells like! Perhaps another time, Angels…another time


~Momma 13


grady             where-is-grady1

Grady Wilson R.I.P.        Grady the Cat M.I.A & R.I.P.?


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