Home is Where the Harry Says: Part 1

So we were down to a week. We both have to move out of our current places in a week, probably out on the street under a bridge somewhere. I start to scout out bridges, for which ones look the most luxurious, which ones I might be most likely to meet a nice young lady. Brooklyn Bridge is too cliché, that’s probably where the hipsters live under; Queensboro seems like a better bet for sincere young professionals to live under, the ones who don’t care about impressing people.

Jeff is freaking out because we finally found a place that was nice and the guy said no. He was like, “So where do you guys work?” And Jeff was like, “I work for so-and-so,” and I was like, “I just got here, so you know…”

“Yer unemployed?!” yelled George the landlord, outraged. “This is my home! Who the fuck do you think you are, coming in here without a job? Wanting to live in my home? That’s like asking my daughter’s hand in marriage! You don’t ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage with no job! Yeh lowlife! Yeh fuckin’ bum. Yeh cock-fucking-sucker, yer the scum of the earth.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“You don’t even wanna marry my daughter. You want to fuck her and not even marry her, yer gonna get the milk without buyin’ the cow, that’s what you think, isn’t it, you goddamn prick, you’re scum.”

“Cow?”

“You think my daughter’s a cow, that’s what yeh think. Yeh perverted motherfucker. A cow for fucking. She’s a teenager¸ you asshole. I should have you fucked up. How do you want to fuck her, you prick?”

“I should go.”

“You want to take my daughter doggy-style, is that what you want? You wanna spin her, don’t you? You wanna make my daughter a spinner, you spinnin’ son-of-a-bitch. You gonna give her the piledriver, you gonna turn her up on her back and drive her from above, you pile-drivin’ motherfucker?”

We were halfway down the steps, and his words echoed down the hall. “You perv! Tell me how you wanna do my daughter! Is it the Minnesota Bigfoot? Minnesota Bigfootin’ son of a bitch…”

“We’re screwed,” said Jeff on the train.

“We’ll find a place.”

The news was coming down that the subway and buses would be shut down for the weekend in preparation for the hurricane. The weekend had been when we thought we would get to see the most apartments. It seemed time to look at bridges, but first I opened up craigslist on my phone to look at what apartments had just become available.