The Final Chapter (part 17)

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 17q]

Subject: What a stupid day!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 22, 2021 5:51 PM

First, the horrible threat from Spike Dewars arrives in the email, then, just a moment ago, I bump into the building manager outside, who told me someone’s complained about the pups again, and that the exterminator wants to treat my room EVERY TWO WEEKS! Triple whammy, and the day’s not over yet.

Re. the dogs’ “noise complaint,” it’s most likely the fellow with the two chihuahuas, whom I rarely see when I’m with the pups. Unfortunately, I saw him twice in the past few weeks, and the doggies barked up a storm the first time, but not so much the second. If Flaco & Lucky meet the chihuahuas several more times, I’m sure they wouldn’t bark anymore. But no, the asshole’s gotta be a drama queen, because prejudiced.

But I didn’t bring that up, I just told Kevin I’m not sure why the complaint, though they do howl when an ambulance or fire engine goes by, but not often, maybe once or twice a month, and only when the sirens linger.

As for the bed bug problem: I can’t possibly live like that, packing everything up every other week, laundering it all, then unpacking it again. It’ll drive me nuts. I’ll have to buy new tarps twice a month, because I’ll have to throw them away before each treatment. That will cost me $50 each month! Plus laundry costs. Or I’ll have to go back to the dirty, wooden floor, which wouldn’t be good for the pooches, let alone my own peace of mind.

At any rate, Kevin seemed rather reluctant to tell me about the complaint, so I doubt it will go anywhere. I’m so sick of nasty people.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: What a stupid day!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 22, 2021 9:22 PM

> The threat from Dewars isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on. Ignore!

No problem. I just don’t appreciate another cycle of hostility to go through…not just from him.

> God, people who complain to the “authorities” oughtta be shot and put in a mass grave. Why can’t the fuckwad complain directly to you? Jeeziz.

He won’t because his hostility is actually against my having a homeless friend. Typical of elitist queers. I already tried talking to him several weeks back, about letting the pups meet…and he just screamed and walked away. All he’s doing is coming up with an excuse to target me, he’d rather try to make me miserable, even if it means the pups’ death. Most people find it hilarious, when the doggies act up; they put on quite a show! But it’s rare now. I can’t stand how some folks in this building set me up to feel fearful every time I exit or enter the building with these two, sweet dogs.

> The extermination business is outrageous. Can you refuse it??

No I can’t. I will be labeled as uncooperative regarding a health hazard for all residents, which can lead to my eviction. Besides, a refusal would require a lawyer’s backing, which seems impossible to get. Kevin DID politely ask if every two weeks is okay by me. I told him prepping for treatment is NEVER something I look forward to, because it’s a big hassle…but it needs to be done, so, yes, go ahead. You know, I always live in such a way as to never draw attention upon myself, but it persistently turns out opposite! The spotlight boldly glares down upon me, in spite of my quiet life.

> Every two weeks for how long? Indefinitely?

I don’t know, but I presume so. Had I an attorney on my side, things would go much better for me, in all these recent crises. But they are not amenable to individual cases that are pro bono, as I’ve since learned. Ya gotta have at least several other residents standing with you, before they’ll consider taking on the case. NO ONE is on my side in this building, because I am not of their bourgeois ilk. I’ve had to suffer ongoing gossip for decades here, and each and every time whoever was manager participated in it, if not outright provoked the enmity.

You’d think they’d have learned their lesson by now, after the recent Myrtle & son debacle…especially since the manager was part of it, and they all eventually collapsed, leaving behind BLATANT evidence of their illegal behavior. Chihuahua man knows nothing about this, so I guess that makes him think I’m a pushover. But I DID expect Kevin to cover for me, seeing as I have the goods on him, so to speak. Not only did I trigger Myrtle’s eviction, but also straightened out the disturbance coming from the Hohokum smoke shop!

Well, he’s doddering now in his old age, and may not last much longer. I see him every day with head bowed and shuffling along like a 90-year-old, though I think he’s around 74. And, as I’ve recently come to realize, all I need do is just walk the peaceful path, don’t answer hostility with same, but stand my ground in a soft-spoken manner, and trust that the Fates are on my side. They’ve never failed me before, so I doubt they will this time around.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: I could kick myself!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 23, 2021 5:03 PM

Don’t know WHY this hadn’t occurred to me before now:

Wave a treat over their noses as we exit and enter the building. They LOVE their duck-jerkey snacks, so this just might be the ticket to get these nasty schmucks off my back. The idea just struck me a moment ago.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: I could kick myself!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 23, 2021 5:51 PM

> So they don’t bark? Great idea!!

I haven’t tried it out yet, but I have a hunch it’ll do the trick. And as more time passes, they’ll get accustomed to encountering other dogs in the hallway…it’s just so infrequent, it’ll take more time. I think it was good ol’ Pterry Pterodactyl who whispered the suggestion in my ear. She always comes to the rescue at the last moment!

It was devastating to dwell upon being ordered to keep the dogs away, my heart was breaking. They would lose their only sanctuary, and my company; and I, theirs. An end to any happiness whatsoever until my death…I’d feel so sad for the doggies. I’d fight till the bitter end if necessary, even unto becoming homeless. But I managed to shove that worst-case scenario to the back of my mind, and relax somewhat…reminding myself to stay kind to my enemies, that SOMEthing would come up to resolve the matter. AND THANK PTERRY IT DID!

Another bodhisattva challenge flung at my feet, and resolved. Remaining calm, and free of worry as best you can, is always key. This juggling between Deek’s provocations and those within my building has been quite a reckless ride! But it looks to have come to an end. I’ve always hated roller coasters, even as a kid. I only got on once, and that was enough. I NEVER BOUGHT A TICKET, I WAS SHOVED ON!

One issue resolved; one more to go. Pterry’s in her Triassic heaven, all’s right with the planet.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: I could kick myself!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 23, 2021 7:27 PM

> I think it’ll work.

Of course it will. And it’s only a few brief moments up or down the stairs. Better yet, when the new elevator is finally running, there’ll be considerably LESS surprise encounters to deal with. Especially from a certain, fucked up drama queen with two chihuahuas. I’m sure he’ll miss the opportunities to go running off to the manager to gripe about me.

> Truly inspired.

Thank you, but I feel pretty dumb for taking so long to come up with the OBVIOUS solution. After all, I’ve already read some online dog sites, one of which said to carry some treats with you, to distract them from barking at other pups. I just didn’t think of it as an indoor thing to do, as well.

> Back in the 70s, I took LSD with my queer (he insisted on that word) friend Michael, he of REQUIEM FOR A PASHA, which I’m pretty sure you’ve read.

Yes, I remember the tale well…and I just took a few moments to read it again. A sweet memorial so colorful and poignantly writ! Your friendship with him shines clearly through. 1990: not really so long ago. That was still my BBS and DOS game era, with my Philly friend Chuck directly over me, two flights up. Gee, I was only 40.

> We went to a big sprawling amusement park In Denver, hot summer night, LSD kicking in, surging crowds, rode the giant creaky dangerous old wooden roller coaster, our screams echoing through the universe, disembarked with faces and legs rubbery with hysteria and adrenaline, rode on the merry-go-round for about an hour to calm ourselves down.

OMG, I got nauseous just reading it! I can’t imagine being on LSD in Denver of all places! Surely you had OTHER adventures while visiting the mile-high city…when you were both MORE than a mile high!

There is a pretty tame roller coaster on the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, less than two blocks from the cottage I rented, while working as a teaching assistant for special needs kids at Aptos High. Every night I’d fall asleep to the distant rattle of the coaster, folks screaming with delight, the thunder of the waves crashing, and seals barking.

Chuck even visited me a few times when I lived there, usually for the weekend, from San Francisco which I had left for three years, to settled in Santa Cruz County. Even my parents visited me then, when they decided to tour a bit of the West Coast. Chuck showed up when they were there; a very nice visit was had by all. I finally got fed up with the social dullness of SC, and returned to SF…and a year later, Chuck got me a room in the same building he occupied, and in which I remain to this day.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: New Mendo listserv has a separate “zeke” category!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 24, 2021 9:56 PM

I just started listening to Marshall’s “Memo of the Weird” latest podcast, when I learned about this new mailing list, hosted at Mendo.org, and that the creator has set up a folder in my name. According to his email to Marshall, it’s because I post so much stuff. Apparently, this new service extracts messages from the MCN announce list. So, whatever you post to the announcement list, also goes to Mendo.org, and vice versa. But you also can set your account to exclude your contributions to Announce.

This Mendo list excludes all fake news, conspiracy crap and hostile comments. So already an improvement, as certain egregious folks have been banned. And I have my own special folder! I imagine when I post TO Mendo.org, it will not be moved to “Zeke,” but stay in whatever category I designated. So I think a good strategy is to post all my original messages (mostly political) to Mendo.org, knowing they’ll also go to MCN. And I’ll just reserve my Announce participation to rebutting the hostile comments directed at me, or those posts spewing anti-vax, conspiracies or right-wing or religious drivel.

I’m sure SOME idiots will be upset over having a whole “Zeke” category at the other service…but most (if not all) of them will be banned, anyway.

Mendo.org archives all posts for five years, which makes it a nice resource. You can even download all of your own messages. It’s really a message board, which I prefer…but so does Mr. Titslaffer. Too bad, because I presume he’s one of the banned damned, as well.

You’ll need to subscribe in order to view anything there, but I’ve attached the categories list, to show you my name right at the bottom (because it starts with Z).

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: PUPS ARE BACK…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 24, 2021 10:15 PM

…and holding the treats over them like fish bait works like a charm! All they wanted were those goodies, didn’t care about rushing up the stairs and into my hovel. But that’s not the final test, as we encountered no one along the way. But I’m confident the duck-jerky snacks will do their trick in those cases, too.

Deek dropped by with the doggies a half hour ago, asked for a $20 advance, and gave me a smartphone and small Bluetooth speaker for recharge. He told me they’ve been having the runs today, in an apologetic tone of voice…but I assured him that’s alright. One or the other has had diarrhea several times before over the past year, and they always let me know when they need to step outside, and give me ample time to put on my shoes, coat, their leashes, etc.

I wished him an excellent night, and off he went to wherever. Didn’t tell me whether he’ll let the dogs stay overnight, or take them back when he returns to pick up his gadgets. For some reason he prefers to keep me guessing. But the pooches are now totally zonked out, they really need this respite…so I’d hate to wake them up and drag them back outside later on tonight.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Deek “in a hurry” to…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 25, 2021 11:21 AM

… go around the corner, as it turned out. I woke up at 7:30 AM, and the pups remained in their dreamworld as I refreshed my pits with deodorant, brushed my ragged non-pearly off whites, and shaved my face (I never use a mirror to do that, BTW). Looked like the doggies didn’t need to go out yet, but I went ahead and prepared another sack full of dog food, because I was pretty sure Deek would ask for it upon his return. Which he said would be around 8 AM or shortly after, once he got breakfast at a church by Dolores Park, four blocks away.

“They still don’t let you inside,” he said last night, “but you can pick up the food and eat it wherever.”

Eight o’clock rolled around, which is when Rosenberg’s opens, and where I go for coffee. So I shoved six quarters in my pocket, put on my sandals, and reach for a jacket. But the moment I did, the pups suddenly popped out of bed, stretched on the floor and wagged their tails. And that is how I know, “Yep, they need to poopy.”

As we exited my room I showed them the duck treat pieces in my hand, to distract them from any possible encounter where they might bark. But again, there was nobody coming in or out. I gave them their treats anyway, once we stepped outside. Getting them into this habit is good training, anyway.

Good news: their sidewalk “gifts” were firm and otherwise normal…no runniness whatsoever. As I walked them back hovel, I heard someone call to me from a distance. Of course it was Deek; who else could it be, as pretty much no one knows me except for a small cabal of hateful people who would never DREAM of greeting me in any friendly way. He was crossing Market Street catty corner, burdened with a few items, including a coat flung over one shoulder, a small backpack, and a black, oblong Bluetooth speaker the size of a small boombox that looked brand new.

He said he’s in a hurry, just charge these items and he’ll return around noon. So he took the dogs and I returned home. But just when I opened the front gate, I looked back to see him turn the corner and disappear by the back of my building! Once I plugged in the devices he gave me, I checked to see if he really DID park himself nearby. I poked my head out the hallway window and, sure enough, there he was a third-block up, seated against the wall and chatting with another vagrant. And the dogs were lying down right on the hard concrete, dammit! He even had one of those cheap, felt blankets in a paper bag, that the churches give out. But what did he do with it? Dumped it right there on the corner, by the lamppost.

“I could’ve fed Flaco & Lucky first,” I thought, “but now they’re not gonna eat anything for hours!” Well, that’s not quite true, as he also showed up with two very LARGE, thick bones sealed in cellophane. Hopefully they’d enjoy that for the while. So he’s in a hurry for WHAT…to sit around the corner for three hours, then return to pick up his items?

Well, at least these days when he DOES hang out around my building, he remains respectfully quiet for the most part. (And that one time he WAS “noisy,” it wasn’t so bad, and it was daytime.) BTW I gave him some great compliments last night. Told him I’m so amazed by all these good changes in him, it’s almost scary. He asked what do I mean, so I first reminded him what a kind thing he’s done by bringing these pooches into my life. But he’s also growing spiritually in leaps and bounds. Rather than give him any particulars on this (which I knew would put him off, as it might remind him of his previous horrid behavior) I said:

“It’s hard to describe in words, so let me put it this way. I can just sense when someone is going through good changes, and you just shine these days.” His response?

“Thank you, I do try.”

I just stepped out to see if I could take a camera shot of Deek and pups from across the street. But his companion was awake, and I did not want to catch their attention, so put my smartphone back in my pocket and meandered back hovel. Stupidly enough, upon entering the building, Kevin the manager came walking down the stairs. I said good morning, and he responded with:

“What was all that yelling going on for a half hour outside?”

I said, “Huh?”

“It was about an hour ago, and I heard your voice.”

I had nothing to say, as I was confused over the accusation, so just shrugged my shoulders. Then, with a disgusted look on his face, he said, “Oh, never mind,” and exited, with coffee in one hand, and a small shopping bag in the other. But just before he passed through the doors, I replied in a quizzical tone, “Okay?”

I really didn’t know WHAT he was talking about, but realized some seconds later exactly what he was addressing. And that his gripe is bogus.

The thing here is that, yes, I was speaking with Deek, the meetup lasted less than five minutes, and no yelling ensued. (Kevin lives in the turret apartment, two flights up from my quasi-fascist neighbor, Moe Fleisher. And those two are friends, or should I say “partners in crime.”)

I had raised my voice a little, in exasperation over his request to change the songs on his phone. “I can’t do that, Deek, there are hundreds of albums now, and it would be a headache for me to figure out what songs are not on it already!”

It’s very quiet these mornings, thanks to the pandemic, and voices carry in the cool air. But Kevin’s accusation is totally unjustified. There was NO yelling going on. Should everyone just whisper outdoors now, to please his majesty? With all the screeching going on by our building late into the night, by drunks and tweekers, he’s really got his gall!

Kevin is harassing me. But I’ll just continue to wish him well whenever our paths cross, say “hello,” “good morning,” stuff like that. I suspect he’s setting me up for eviction, or some other horrible, fake grievance. It’ll backfire. Here’s what I think is really going on:

My confrontation with Myrtle & son, and Kevin’s own participation in their antagonism towards me, has caused him much animosity against THIS perplexed pilgrim. Too bad for him. I’m dealing with a child here, perhaps someone with progressive dementia. I was thinking of texting him, “We need to talk,” but I figured that would not go over well, as he persists in talking down to me, and never allowing us any REAL conversation.

I still wonder what the heck his collusion with Myrtle & son was REALLY all about…but I suspect he doesn’t want me, or anyone else, to know. He might even be afraid, and see my not keeping to myself regarding stuff that goes on in this building, as a threat to his own scurrilous activities.

But what do I know? I’m just an SRO occupant, and, as you know, single-room residents like myself are supposed to be invisible, since our kind don’t really count in their eyes.

Now, just when I was about to end this missive, Deek called up for his things, and the dog food. I didn’t bother to tell him anything about my difficulties with the manager, and chihuahua man. Seeing as HE is no longer any sort of problem, as well as not a very good listener. Nor do I want to put more stress or worry in his life. He gave me a hearty thanks, I said sure, any time, and have an excellent day. I really hope he does.

Oh: nor did I mention his being “in a hurry” to park himself around the corner was kinda silly. I could’ve fed the dogs then brought them out to him…or even let them rest a few hours more, inside. I think it’s best to leave things be, and just see how they develop. Overall, he’s doing remarkably well these days. Thus, it is NOT the time any more for criticism, as that would be “micro-managing.” And I abhor people who do that.

I just checked again: he is no longer parked behind my building, nor is his momentary comrade…whoever the heck he was, I’ve never seen him before. And that means nothing.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Deek “in a hurry” to…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 25, 2021 1:10 PM

> What a morning!!

I know, okay? And right when Deek showed up this morning, I had some treats in my hand, ready to enter the gate. The pups were MOST eager to receive them, but I held back because for whatever reason, Deek is paranoid about giving them any treats. Poor Flaco kept looking up at me, craving her goody, as I walked the pups over to Deek, and comisserated with him for several minutes. She even stood up with paws on my thigh, sniffing at my coat pocket. I felt terrible, having to ignore her like that. But they DID have those huge bones to gnaw on. Or lick, because tiny jaws…but I have a hunch they didn’t care for them at all. They don’t like ANY snacks that are hard; they only go for the chewy stuff.

BTW, Kevin has yet to schedule me for that next bedbug treatment, as part of the new “every two weeks” plan. He’s actually done something like this before, late last year, that is:

Set up another treatment two or three weeks after the first one, and I said I’ll be ready. But it never happened, and the next “gassing” wasn’t till three months later. I conjecture he’s making some stuff up to try to make me break. Won’t work. Though I ALSO conjecture this is further tweaking of my emotional quotient a la my Bodhisattva Premise. Because it looks like the moment I get myself centered and calm once again, some other nuisance erupts. I can deal with it, though; I’m fine. The fact that Deek has gotten vaccinated, and is behaving so much more reasonable and friendly–and the pups continue their visits–all certainly keep my spirits aloft. Now, a little more about my complimenting him yesterday:

I also told him that I’m a pretty tough guy, but I don’t play it that way…and my physical appearance and gentle demeanor make most think I’m a chump.

“But you know better, Deek,” I noted. “I haven’t exactly gone easy on you. Nor have you gone easy on ME, for that matter!” Of course I left out the part where, had I gone easy on him, he’d stomp all over me, wreck my life and get me evicted, thus become homeless like him!

I added that he DESERVES praise at this time in his life, because he’s doing amazingly well these days. And I have grown mightily, too, thanks to all the challenges he’s tossed my way. At that point, he was eager to leave because, I think, my flattering words heaped upon him so copiously was a bit much for him to take. Or, assuming he IS my bodhisattva guardian, it is only proper to respond to such kudos with humility, and not make a fuss of it.

I therefore can NOT hold enmity towards Kevin and chihuahua man, either…for the same reason. IOW: we have no enemies, only teachers.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: New Mendo listserv has a separate “zeke” category!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 25, 2021 2:06 PM

> Holy cow!! What a development!!

I suspected all along there was a cow behind all this…in light of Mendoland’s rural nature. I’ve certainly made a splash up there! “Memo of the Weird” Marshall not only talked about this new board, but mentioned there’s a special section just for Zeke! I would NOT have known about this at all, had he not brought it up on his latest show. I still listen to every single one of his episodes, via podcast, in spite of his unwarranted antagonism towards me. And it sure has paid off THIS time around, like I hit the jackpot!

This Mendo.org message board is very well laid out, with excellent options. We should have a much better online community, without all those right-wing and conspiracy assholes…especially that Nazi lunatic (and his several admiring followers…even gyork is banned. He’s the one who spread wild gossip about me supposedly making money from my posts, and accused my puppy rescue project of being a scam).

By having my own category, folks are free to read or NOT read anything I post. Turns out that whatever I contribute to the board, goes directly to the “zeke” folder, no matter the topic. And that’s okay by me…it still gets sent to the Announcement list, so long as I don’t turn off that feature. There seems to be no automatic sorting by category, however. So I guess the administrator does it all by hand. Which takes a bit of concentrated work, I’d say.

My way of saying thank you to Mendo.org, was to post the following message, my very first:

Subject: God Only Knows – BBC Music
From: ezekielk
Date: Sun July 25 2021 2:54 AM

One of the loveliest songs by the Beach Boys, in a special rendering by the BBC. Let this sweet song remind us all that things of this world will reach a crescendo of seemingly insurmountable and disastrous odds before the clouds break up and the sun shines through. (Or the sunlight fades and the dark clouds come tumbling down, for us stormy weather lovers.) We’re almost there, just a few more steps!


Subject: Marshall read an excerpt from my latest tale!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 25, 2021 7:21 PM

Listening a fifth hour in to his podcast from last Friday night’s show, I was delighted to hear him read this excerpt I call “The Box & The Fluff.” So he’ll read excerpts I post to the Announce list, and that’s how I grab his interest for now on. I’ll just have to remember to make each one juicy, with a reading time of 4-5 minutes. No more just a paragraph or two (or three or four) whenever I announce my latest chapter!

I guess I could just post excerpts from my earlier tales once a week, between new chapter announcements. That way, Marshall’s Brindlekin narrations will accumulate into a tasty repast for the Youtube crowd. And I’ll also post links to them via my WordPress blog’s KNYO section.

BTW, I lost another “Zeke’s Mailing List” member, Millie Lasser. I know her through her homeless son I befriended over a decade ago. Her email’s bounced back twice, so far. My list never took off, though…at the most there were only four: you, Carlyle Lambourne, Chuck Kapinski and Millie. I dropped you from it, once I joined the MCN lists, ’cause you’d get the same stuff I post there, that I include on my own mailing list. So now I’m down to just ONE! But then a NEW “zeke” list has cropped up, thanks to Mendo.org…and it COULD turn into something interesting.


Subject: Doggy Dining with the Stars IV
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 27, 2021 6:52 PM

I just uploaded this video, which I took while feeding the pups a short while ago (4 mins.):

Watch Flaco & Lucky enjoy a hearty meal while an old ’30s, ’40s or ’50s movie plays in the background. Today I bring you “Woman on the Run,” a 1950 noir film directed by Norman Foster. Starring Ann Sheridan, Ross Elliot, Dennis O’Keefe, John Qualen, Frank Jenks and Robert Keith. Distributed by Fidelity Pictures Corporation, whoever the heck THEY were.

I love the gentle absurdity of playing an old, noir movie in the background while filming the pups noshing away.

Deek showed up around 5:40. I gave him a full $60 even though I already advanced him $20 three days prior. Told him that’s it for the month, no more money for a week, my budget’s really tight till then. Again, he said he’s in a hurry, and obviously the pups were, as well…to dash upstairs to their little sanctuary. As I turned to go, Deek hollered out: “Hey, look at this!” So I turned around halfway to the gate to see a HUGE speaker on a dolly, tethered to his latest bicycle.

“It’s just as big as the last one!” he declared with excitement.

“Wow,” I replied, “somethin’ else!” But then rushed to open the gate because I saw Kevin fast approaching, carrying a small duffel bag with those thick, round leather handles. “What the heck is in THAT,” I wondered, as I hurriedly fumbled with the keys in the same hand I clutched a Bluetooth speaker, while holding both leashes with the other hand, which was also prodding my right pocket for a couple of duck jerky treats. Deek hopped onto his bicycle, said “Thank you Zeke,” and I called back, “Thank you, too!”

And up the stairs we dashed, the doggies arf-arf-arfing with joy, all the way hovel.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Texting with Wattson – 7/28/21

Pic 1 (large version)

Pic 2 (large version)

Pic 3 (large version)

Pic 4 (large version)

Video


Subject: And off they go!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 29, 2021 11:41 AM

Well, Wattson, another sweet Canis familiaris visit has come to an end. When I brought the doggies down to him this morning, he apologized for not showing up yesterday. Something about things may or may not be working out with “my girl,” how she either can’t or doesn’t want the pups over…not sure which, as he didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t prod. (My immediate thought was: “How could anyone NOT love those pooches? Maybe he should drop her.”) But I assured him:

“That’s fine, you know I always take good care of them, you never need to worry.”

He had a bike with a huge garbage sack bursting with recyclables tottering over the handlebars, and a trailer to lug that ginormous speaker. The moment he thanked me and said god bless you, the bag slid open and spilled cans and bottles all over the sidewalk. The dogs stood around, patiently watching him clean up the mess, as I blessed him back and told Flaco & Lucky “stay with your master now!” They understood, and neither attempted to follow me back to the gate. Though of course their loving eyes watched me until I vanished.

I was pleased with not just how calm the doggies were, but Deek, too. Not a single flash of anger when the bag disgorged its contents. He simply began putting the escaped items back into their bag, as I left them to their concrete jumble world once again, wishing them only the best.

It was a colorful, O. Henry-esque scene I wish I had bothered to record with my spy pen. However, once returned hovel, I caught two brief scenes of them departing, as I aimed my Moto E out the window. Nervous about him possibly looking up and seeing me film them, both shots were quite brief. But I stuck them together, and uploaded the result here (22 seconds):

As for continuing my test of using treats to distract them from foot traffic up and down the stairs, it has passed with flying colors twice so far: once, yesterday, and once, this morning. The first time, not a peep out of them…the second time, a couple of woofs but no more. I have yet to encounter someone with their own pet, but I think it’s all under control now.

Though it’s been pretty much of a non-issue all along, I have to deal with a few mofos residing here, including the manager. They are anti-happiness personified! They seem to have their panties up in a bunch that I DARE sit for two homeless doggies…emphasis on “homeless.” What do they think I’m planning to do, run a street dog service? I can’t imagine the horrible things being said about me through the toxic grapevine! A little kindness goes a long way, but Glaucus forbid they should ever show any of THAT.

Whatever happened to the San Francisco I once loved, and was so accepting of eccentric folks like yours truly? It’s gone the way of the REST of America, culminating with our Demon President Trump. Hopefully, this surging Delta Strain will wipe out a large sum of them. But I’m not holding my breath; just wearing a mask again. What an appropriate symbol for this vile, corrupt nation: a mask!

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: And off they go!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 29, 2021 12:55 PM

> So glad you got extra time with them.

Always wonderful when that happens. The pups LOVE visiting me…all that cushy comfort where they know they are safe, loved, and in a peaceful, quiet setting. Their trust in me is absolute.

Woke up this morning around 7:05 AM with my left foot being anointed. Flaco was licking my heel, then moved on to the rest of my foot, doing such a prolonged, thorough job of it, including getting between the toes! Sometimes she’d grip a toe or two lightly with her sharp little teeth, for a deeper clean. While performing this sacred ritual, I pulled Lucky close to me…he sighed dreamily as I held his buff little bod between my arms.

Several minutes later, and to my surprise, she then moved on to the OTHER foot! I consider the word “anoint” preferable to “lick,” in light of my spiritual awakening to the divine spirit of the dog. And, just as the early Christians washed each other’s feet to show humility and respect for the divine in each of us, so did Flaco, the dachshund/terrier pilgrim, on our shared journey.

> I looked closely at the video, I see he has the two of them leashed together. They seem to be trotting along, just following him, but it didn’t look as though there was a lead connected to him and his bicycle…maybe there was and I just couldn’t see it. How does this rig work??

While tethered to each other, they’re otherwise off-leash. The pups have become very good at keeping to the sidewalk, and close to their master. Deek’s joining the two leashes together is a rather new thing, which he began around four months back. He fashioned the knot so well, it’s difficult for me to unravel (so I don’t bother). Which makes walking them a bit of a chore, since they often switch from one side to the other, and I have to either quickly step over the extended leash, or just drop it to the ground, step back and pick it up again. Which happens every couple of minutes or so, on each walk.

Also, with these leashes joined, I can no longer tether them to the sign post outside Morey’s corner store. At least, not in the usual manner. I have to bring a separate cord or one of the spare collars, as a workaround. Speaking of knots:

A few weeks ago I laughed at myself when I thought of what an excellent knot he used to link the pups’ leashes, recalling my discussion about knots earlier this year. I had handed him a new sack of kibble, after tying a double knot sideways instead of vertically.

“Why did you tie it like that?” he queried with a touch of annoyance.

“Because while this knot is still strong and keeps food fresh, it’s easy to untie. That way you can open and close it with little fuss.”

“Hmm,” he skeptically mused. So I elaborated:

“I know my knots, Deek. Thanks to the Boy Scouts.” Not bothering to tell him I never made it beyond Tenderfoot by the time I finally dropped out when I turned seventeen. (My right-wing, military-college-educated, Trumpturd brother had become an Eagle Scout by the time he reached that same age.) And this particular knot I didn’t learn about till many years later. IOW: mine was a hollow brag.

So after dealing with this new leash arrangement, I finally realized that’s a damn righteous knot he’s got there! Perhaps, I conjectured, in his own, unique bodhisattva style, it is his way of saying:

“See? I know knots too, Zeke!”

And he set up the joke so that it wouldn’t hit me till some weeks later.

Does that answer your question, good physician? You often ask most difficult ones without even realizing it. Or do you?

Next time the pooches visit, I will be sure to take a snapshot of Deek’s fabulous knot, and send it to you.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: This Month’s Outrageous Xfinity Bill.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 30, 2021 5:58 PM

Read it and weep.

Click here for a larger view.

Re: This Month’s Outrageous Xfinity Bill.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 31, 2021 12:42 AM

> Haw!

It’s highway robbery…in reverse.

The pups are back. Deek showed up just after midnight, wanted to leave them with me so he could do his night riding with a large speaker in tow. Fine with me. Now, back to watching another episode or two of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, then it’s time to hit the sack. Flaco’s stretched out in the box, and Lucky’s curled up at my feet. He loves his neck scratches BTW, often pushes his head against my leg for more.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Adisa and Punk Friends Robbed Morey’s Shop This Afternoon!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 31, 2021 4:51 PM

Also, Morey’s brother was jumped, but he managed to defend himself quite well and shove off the attack, and even took a video of them further down the block. Here’s how I found out about it:

Around 2:30 PM I walked the pups up Noe Street, and noticed a commotion happening a block-and-a-half up. Saw four black teenagers, and I automatically assumed Adisa was among them, though I could not tell, visually, as I quickly scooted to the other side of the street and stood for a minute, hidden by a couple of leafy trees. Could not hear what they were saying, but tone of voices indicated intimidation and threats. There was a fellow standing by the door who looked like Morey, but I later learned that’s his brother. He was holding up his smartphone to take a video of the punks who stood further down the block, hollering back.

I then continued my walk, looking left to see if I could spot Adisa. Yep, he was definitely one of ’em, and I think he saw me, too. Anyway, I moved swiftly on and rounded the corner to get to my bank’s branch and withdraw $40. I figured not to intervene in the fracas, due to the pups’ presence, deciding instead to visit Morey’s shop upon my return, assuming the confrontation would have ended by then. It had, and there were three cops taking stock of the situation; their car was parked nearby.

Morey was not there, though his brother was…along with another clerk by name of Jack: a tall, Lebanese fellow of advanced years. Very nice man, as is his wife. They filled me in with what happened and, since Morey already knows my difficulties with Adisa and his mom (AND the building manager), I let him fill Jack in with my side of the equation.

I then offered to send them a link to my video of Adisa harassing me, via texting or email. Jack gave me his cell phone number, and some minutes later upon arriving hovel, I sent him that link, plus a copy of my complaint to Ablablah Realty, which includes their full names and other useful details.

Fortunately, I did not cross paths with the delinquents on my way home, though I feared I might, ’cause that’s the direction they headed off to, after the altercation. God forbid they should ever enter my building again! Which is quite possible, since easy to do. In fact, the front gate was held ajar for a couple of hours today, as a resident was moving out with a U-Haul truck parked nearby. AROUND THE SAME TIME Adisa et al were harassing Morey’s friends and strolling the neighborhood.

Not knowing what kind of association our building manager Kevin may still have with Myrtle & son, I’m hesitant to inform him of this horrid event. I could text him a brief alert and be done with it. At any rate, I’m keeping my eyes peeled for Adisa, and the moment I see him again, will call 911.

Can you believe this, Wattson? Why is my life so frequently filled with crisis after crisis on a most local level? This is out of the ordinary. Hmm, I think I’ll march back to Morey’s corner store right now, to see if they got my video and letter, and whether or not the punks showed up again. Jack said they threatened to. As far as I know, no weapon was involved. And hopefully, that will never come to pass. Where is Myrtle in all this?

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: Okay, I just texted Kevin this: “Adisa and punk friends robbed Morey’s shop this afternoon, and jumped his brother. You may want to talk to them, yourself, for the record.”


Subject: Adisa and Punk Friends Robbed Morey’s Shop This Afternoon! UPDATE
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 31, 2021 7:05 PM

FOOT IN MOUTH!

I have yet to receive acknowledgment from Jack that he got my texted video and letter. But I thought I did, when someone texted back “Jesus!” about a half hour ago. Foolish me, I had not noticed the reply was from Kevin, not Jack. I was so eager to hear back from Morey’s coworker, that I jumped the gate. With the following sorry result:

Maybe it’s for the best, could smooth things over, as Kevin now sees I speak reasonably of him, regardless of my justified outrages against the prick. That is: I don’t gossip or spread hate. Be that as it may, I’m still waiting on Jack’s ACK. I decided NOT to walk back there so soon to get updated, as I’m afraid I might come off as a wannabe private investigator, treating their crisis like some kind of staged adventure (though I suspect it IS just that).

However, should I NOT hear from him by 7:30, THEN I’ll pay a visit, as it’s also a good time to walk the pups again. Morey’s shop closes nightly at eight.

Well, the doggies are STILL with me (hurray!), and I remembered to take a pic of Deek’s “super knot” that joins the leashes like they were fused together. Actually, two pics to show both sides.

Click here for a larger view.

Re: Adisa and Punk Friends Robbed Morey’s Shop This Afternoon!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 31, 2021 8:38 PM

> Be careful!!!

In light of my very low income and limited resources, no real friends nearby, easy access to this building, the manager’s (and at least two other residents’) hostility, Deek’s frighteningly incautious behavior at times, and caring for the pups against all odds…there’s little I can do as regards being careful. I’m absurdly vulnerable, and that’s just the way it is. Besides, I’ve always been careful all my life, as best to my abilities…this is nothing new.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Adisa and Punk Friends Robbed Morey’s Shop This Afternoon! UPDATE
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 31, 2021 8:38 PM

> Oh, drat! A further complication!!

But wait, there’s more:

As I stepped out to check on Morey’s shop, I almost fell down the stairs and broke my pinky! Deek’s damn tethered leashes got caught up in my right ankle at just the moment I released the pups to go dashing down the stairs and into the lobby. Which made me fall on my keister while clutching for stability on the banister in such a way as to come close to snapping my little finger off its socket. Fortunately, I was spared, got up and started to open the doors to let the doggies out.

But they were staring back at someone coming down the steps and were about to bark up a storm. I managed to quell that with a treat held above their noses, but they resisted my nudging them to get through the gate before that person reached the lobby. I succeeded at the very last second when lo and behold, up comes a huge pit bull leashed (thank god) to its owner, and all three dogs started barking. Forcing me just to stand there until they passed, because a small crowd approaching from the left obstructed my egress. Which meant that I was probably blocking the tenant who by now wanted to step out, too.

I glanced back to discover he was NOT right behind me…then, finally, stepped further out on the sidewalk, urging the pooches to come this way, never mind the big dog looking back at them. Fifteen more steps or so, I turned around to see if that resident had exited yet, but no, he had not. I guess he just came downstairs to check the mail or pick up one or more of several packages dumped off by this or that delivery service.

We were almost at the corner when some skinny-and-tall-as-Ichobod-Crane tweeker who had just crossed the street stepped onto the curb and snarled:

“Hey, what are you doing with Deek’s dogs?”

The last thing I ever want with these types is discuss ANYthing with them, let alone have them in my presence. But some get in your face no matter what, so I bit my tongue and replied:

“I’m watching them for him, so he can go ride his bike.”

“Oh,” he said, still with suspicion written all over his meth-saturated aura.

“Deek and I have been friends for more than ten years,” I qualified, only to appease the goon. But he pushed further:

“What is your name?”

“Zeke.” I was so impatient at this point, I almost exploded in a fury of expletives.

“I think I’ve heard of you,” he mused aloud. “Well, I was just looking out for Deek.”

“That’s nice of you,” I quipped.

“No, it’s not nice,” he asserted, “it’s responsible.”

At that point I really had enough, so turned away, desperate to distance myself tout de suite from this gritty pissant. Soon as the light turned green, I did.

This is what it’s like stepping out with Flaco & Lucky sometimes: a long, drawn out drama with threatening bit actors emerging from the wings! Earlier that morning, I held the dogs back in the lobby, because some homeless lady had just stopped with her baggage RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE GATE, and started begging! She wasn’t there a moment ago, just popped out of the blue one second before I grabbed the door handle. To the brindlekin’s credit, no barking ensued as they patiently stood by my side.

Much to my relief, she lingered no more than two minutes, and no other resident came downstairs during that time. This is the tense situation I’m in, due in no small measure to the manager’s hostility, chihuahua man and, of course, my quasi-fascist neighbor Moe. What other pin-headed doink who resides here may be in the mix? I have no idea. But I’m sure I’ll find out one way or another; gossip spreads like the Delta strain around here. Speaking of pin-heads:

There IS a new occupant who bears a remarkable resemblance to Myrtle Haversak (Adisa’s mom): 5-foot-4, petite, pale, straw-color bowl-cut hair, and often seen stepping out to jog in black spandex yoga pants and a gray pullover. Also, not a single ray of a smile ever beams from that blank-eyed countenance of hers. I’ve said hi to her now and then, and she barely acknowledges.

I came upstairs with the pups a few nights back, and there was Myrtle ver. 2.0 standing on my floor, waiting for us to pass. As we did, Flaco barked twice, but I quickly stifled that with the lure of a treat. The lady was stoic, couldn’t tell whether annoyed or pleased. God forbid she would ever say, “Cute dogs!” I know nothing about her, except she moved in about two months ago, and lives on either the third or fourth floor. But I suspect she’s just another “Nombie” (Nazi zombie). Will she go crying to the manager about “those awful dogs” barking at her? I would NOT be surprised.

Well, after all that drama simply for stepping outside, I finally arrived at the corner store. Morey was the only one there. I was saddened to hear that the cops did nothing, not even tracked them down to have a serious talk with them. Jack returned home because the old fellow’s nerves were completely shot. He suffered a stroke three years ago, and was gone for almost seven months; I thought I’d never see him again, that it was all over for him. But as it turned out, he bounced back into glowing health and cheerful spirit…he even looks HEARTIER than before!

But this assault on their shop may wind up being his demise! How can he ever show up again, and not be in constant fear of these punks making further appearances? In light of the SFPD’s failure to take any action against these reprobates, they’ll know they can get away with their crimes. They could even terrorize the entire neighborhood before any legal force comes into play!

And why the fuck is Adisa continuing to be an unwelcome presence? Where does he live now, which school does he attend, is it nearby? Morey said there’s no point in my calling 911 when I see the skunk again, as Jack has not even decided whether or not to press charges, because he fears retaliation. Which is quite possible, as they know they can get away with even more harassment. So the police will do NOTHING as it now stands. They told Morey to call 911 if they show up again. Gee, what a washed out piece of advice. And frightening.

Likewise (Morey elaborated) would posting warning notices with their mugs exposed lead to justice, and may cause further attacks upon their little shop. It could even go out of business over this hellish scenario. What a dark shadow has been cast upon this loveliest corner of The Castro…my only relatively-safe haven in the entire district.

Until now.

Who would ever have imagined, good physician, that 9666 Market Street would give birth to such a demonic manifestation? Time for another deep consultation with my loyal advisor in all things mysterious, Pterry Pterodactyl!

Upon returning hovel with the pups, someone came right up behind me and held the door open: another resident. The dogs started to bark, though not so vociferously, and I was able to quiet them down quickly, with my snack trick. Once he ascended the stairs to the second floor, I attempted to follow, but another resident came prancing DOWN and into the lobby.

Again, the pups barked, and again I squelched it. He chuckled, didn’t seem upset at all. In fact, he was pretty nice. Though I don’t really know if that’s any guarantee he won’t complain to the manager, anyway. Some of these nasty queens will smile as they stab you in the back. I would like very much for all this bullshit to end!

– Zeke K-Holmes

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