The Eviction Fiasco (part 16)

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 6: Chapter 7]

Texting with Wattson: 7/22/22

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Subject: People in Bangladesh helping stray dogs in flood
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 23, 2022 at 11:03 AM

At first it looks like the second dog is a goner, with the first pooch crying over that possibility. But don’t worry, the ending is happy. Sure wish my building manager (and a few other residents) would be just as compassionate towards Flaco & Lucky…but no, they gotta play heartless bastards.

No update from my attorney, no second summons delivery attempt…all’s been quiet on that front for more than a week. How strange. The wheels of justice grind slowly.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Click here to watch video.

Re: People in Bangladesh helping stray dogs in flood
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 23, 2022 at 12:00 PM

> The way they wag their tails when they’re back on solid ground! And the woman feeding them…

A heartfelt scene all the way around.

> No word from your attorney? If I wuz you, I’d try to check in with her on Monday. We don’t want no rude surprises.

Yes, of course, that’s been my plan all along: if I don’t get an update for an entire week, I’ll touch bases come Monday. I’m under the impression that Ablahblah’s lawyer is difficult to reach. Perhaps because he fucked up royally.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Out of Court Settlement Proposal
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 24, 2022 at 12:08 PM

Assuming that strong evidence exposes the building manager and Ablablah Realty’s attorney to false accusations and draconic threat of eviction, and that they would not care to be sued BACK, here is what I’ve deliberated upon as a possible settlement:

1. Allow me to continue dog sitting, with condition the hounds can visit me unconditionally, no limit to how many consecutive days. IOW: regard this as permission to have these little pups live with me. Though they WON’T be residing 24/7, but continue to visit 1-3 days/week on average.

2. The building manager will no longer act hostile towards the dogs whenever he sees them, as he’s done now and then in the past, such as hollering “Shut up! Shut up!” at them. Easy request to follow, as he’s also been kind to them from time to time. Nor should he spread gossip about me to other occupants, nor assign anyone to spy on me.

3. If both conditions above are agreed upon, I will drop my cross-complaint and/or pursuit of any other grievance related to abusive treatment against me or the dogs by the building manager. Likewise for the building attorney’s participation in this unwarranted charge against me. And of course I will continue to abide by all building rules regarding pets.

Hopefully, my attorney Ms. Elvensborn will work with me on this, in order to revise my proposal into proper legalese. I will email this statement to her tomorrow, for consideration.

Keeping my fingers crossed, Wattson!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Out of Court Settlement Proposal
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 24, 2022 at 1:41 PM

> Excellent idea!!!!

Thank you, I think so, too. In lieu of possibly suing for $25,000 or more, and NOT being allowed doggy visits, these pups are WELL WORTH the sacrifice of a financial boon in exchange for resuming sanctuary in my hovel; their lives are PRICELESS. Well, that’s just my first draft. I intend to include a brief history of how I’ve been an ASSET to the safety of all residents by presenting a brief outline of my helping evict a truly dangerous tenant now and then…as described in my chapter “Letter to the Landlord (part 4)” under subtitle “MY HALLOWED HISTORY OF PROTECTING THE RESIDENTS OF 9666 MARKET STREET.”

This will serve the purpose of countering the building manager’s (or any resident’s) gossiping about me as if I were an intolerable nuisance and all-around jerkwad. THIS IS A WITCH HUNT, WATTSON, which I shall nip in the bud, as afforded me by this crisis. IOW, I will have my day in the sun, a time for me to shine. “Crisis is opportunity,” as the old Chinese proverb states. I have completely overcome my adversaries’ attempt to make me feel like a filthy pariah, a reprobate, and start believing it myself, cowering before their evil stepsister presence, like some sort of Cinderella-clone reject. And now it’s time to strike back. Huzzah!

How incredibly FORTUNATE that I have bothered to keep a journal of my residence in this building via Brindlekin Tales…which now saves my skin like a champ. A kind of prescient gift that comes from subconscious foreknowledge, further clinching my Bodhisattva Premise! Though under that same Premise, my enemies are merely tough taskmasters, shaping me into a hero…thus have every INTENTION that I win my case and bring the doggies back home, confirmed with an IRONCLAD contract.

So I’ll be busy this evening composing my email to Ms. Elvensborn, and sending you a copy FIRST, before it arrives in her OWN mailbox.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Just emailed this to my attorney:
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 25, 2022 at 10:04 PM

"Subject: Touching bases...

"Nothing new to report here, no second attempt to deliver the court summons (yet?), no one's knocked on my door. Just touching bases. Hope you are doing well, I'm just fine myself. May your day be lovely."

I decided to keep it short and simple, will send her my settlement proposal later today.

Re: Just emailed this to my attorney:
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 25, 2022 at 2:06 PM

> Yes! Good idea to maybe reestablish communication with your friendly note, THEN get to biz.

Above and beyond the legal matter of protecting my ass, this is an extraordinary opportunity to connect with someone of integrity, who is also NOT down-and-out. Therefore, every step of the way, I do my best to leave her with the most positive, inspiring impression as possible. I see the bigger picture, and play it that way…which I’ve learned to do in EVERY critical situation.

Heck with that jejune saying, “children are our future”…and replace “children” with “Zeke” (and “are” with “is,” of course)!

Re: Just emailed this to my attorney:
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 25, 2022 at 3:47 PM

> I like “Zeke are our future,” Has a certain je n’sais quoi…

Once I become Prime Minister Extraordinaire of Athenia, we can all vote on the “is” or “are” issue, with all results tallied in the spanking new capital (née San Francisco): Zekeopolis. Or we could just make it BOTH, as in “Zeke is/are our future,” though I guess there’d be a long, heated debate over which goes first: “is” or “are?” Reminds me of my silly tale, “The Exalted Land of Andor.”

So my skin tag has finally diminished to a tiny bump, thanks to the application of tea tree oil three times a day for the past two weeks (several drops in a tablespoon of skin cream for the ointment). Shriveling and desiccated, should not take very long now before it’s totally gone. But at least it inspired me to compose that absurd vignette…worth every micrometer of growth! Once again, I can walk through the eye of a needle without turning sideways. Whew!

– Zeke K-Holmes


Seeing as Athenia’s entire police force will be comprised of hundreds of thousands of animatronic clones of yours truly, the concept of the phrase “Zeke are our future” taking off is not far-fetched at all! In fact, I think you are MOST prophetic in the suggestion thereof.

There is also the mangling of the English language these days by the transgender/nonbinary community with their pronoun preferences. Which, ironically enough, will make the “are” in the phrase above more palatable than it would be otherwise, in the future eyes of my proud Athenian citizens.

Let us come together and pray over this, in the First Universalist Church of Dog, once this revolution that hasn’t even started yet, blows over.

Re: Just emailed this to my attorney: ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 25, 2022 at 4:17 PM

> And the dogz say: Are! Our! Are! Our!

Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo!

(You just can’t make this stuff up.)

Subject: Not a peep from my attorney!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 29, 2022 at 9:21 PM

Guess I’ll have to call their office Monday via their main number, to see if she’s okay. If she’s ill, you’d think she or an associate would inform me. And what if Ablahblah’s attorney shows up again to deliver the summons a second time? But they haven’t yet. IOW: what the fuk is going on?


Deek was awful last night. As he was a couple times in the past week, though last night was the worst. Soon as I stepped out with a friendly greeting, and attempted to pet the doggies nested in a corner behind him, he started screeching at me.

“Get outta my face, your crotch is in my face!”

I had bent over the railing in order to reach the pups, my legs about a foot away from his left side; I could barely reach their heads with my fingertips. Sometimes he plays this game to make it difficult for me to get near them, as a setup to complain (a.k.a. “scream bloody murder”).

“I’m just saying hi to the pups,” I replied after withdrawing my hand and standing back up. “but I don’t want to disturb them from their cozy spot.”

“Here, take them!” he snapped, yanking Lucky by the collar and pulling him forward against his will. Then he tried the same on his sister, who refused to budge.

“Stop that, Deek!” I admonished. “It’s okay, let them rest!”

A neatly dressed black dude was seated close by, smoking on a bubble pipe that I guess was Deek’s. He didn’t say a word, but remained blithely calm throughout Deek’s string of vulgar rants that went on for an ungodly five minutes. He struck me as a friendly person overall (I think I even had a conversation with him some weeks ago), though it may have been all about the meth…oh that sweet, sweet meth.

As Deek bellowed on with this and that FALSE accusation, I would calmly interject I did nothing wrong; was glad to see him and the pups; he’s doing this all to himself; and it’s shameful.

Towards the end of his horrific spewing, he began to gather his electronics for me to charge, while I held a plastic sack all crushed up in my hand:

“Gimme the bag!” he insisted. That was so he could drop the gizmos into it.

“Uh-uh, Deek,” I opposed, “No way am I gonna do you ANY favors when you scream at me like a crazy man!”

As I stepped away and turned the key in the gate, he spewed more expletives until the gate slammed shut and he realized I was serious. I expected him to start screaming up a storm, but he did not. Some twenty or so minutes later I decided to step out again and purchase something at Rosenberg’s. Not that I really needed it at that moment, but I wanted to see if Deek’s temper had subsided, and was ready to speak to me as a friend.

I wasn’t going to step right up to him, but he was certainly close enough to hear me exit, which would give him a chance to call out to me. He did NOT, so I continued towards Noe Street and turned the corner to purchase I-don’t-even-remember-what. Upon returning, I decided then to approach him, rather than go directly hovel.

“Have you calmed down by now?” I addressed him seated Indian fashion as he fervently suckled that bubble pipe like a slyphan teat.

It billowed nebulous puffs of cotton candy dreams that rose almost to my waist, then drifted back down and vanished into the concrete. I hoped none of it reached Flaco’s nostrils, who still lay in that corner, curled up against his lower back. Lucky, I saw, was at the other end of the ATM alcove, seated beside Scampy, who apparently showed up before I returned from Rosenberg’s. Along with two other vagrants, both male and on the young side…well, definitely forty years or less. The quiet black fellow was still present, accepting a couple more puffs from Deek’s outstretched arm.

He immediately exploded at my unexpected return, accusing me of many horrible things, even threatened to cut me up right there on the sidewalk, then pointed with his chin at his four allies seated nearby, and I without any friends.

“They’re my WITnesses!” he proclaimed. “To your abusing me! Get the fuck outta my face!”

I then glanced at all four, who remained silent the entire time…while Lucky sat up warily calm, and Flaco shivered behind her master. She was cold. Or scared. Or both.

“I’m not IN your face, Deek,” I replied in a steady voice. “What they are witnessing is your own disgusting behavior. It’s SHAMEFUL, and you’re scaring these lovely pups with your drama queen screeches.”

He then drowned me out with further screams and hateful remarks, never mind the dogs’ trauma.

“You are headed in a BAD direction,” I interjected. “I feel SORRY for those sweet, little doggies, you’re not being kind to them at all. Where’s your heart?”

And with that, I abruptly turned about in disgust and returned upstairs. Some twenty minutes later I realized the pooches need their sweaters, which I had removed the previous morning when they came by, because it was already too warm a day to keep them on, and Deek told me to hold onto them. But he never returned that night and, dammit, it had turned cold!

I also intended to give him a final chance to calm down and apologize, so along with the sweaters I brought the plastic bag with me, once more.

“Here,” I said as I tossed the elfin camouflage sweaters (that look SO cute on them) onto his lap. “It’s cold tonight and Flaco’s shivering, this’ll keep them warm.”

But no, Wattson, he did NOT apologize, but erupted once again in a fury of diabolical expletives and accusations. He DID, however, notice the bag in my hand and, as I told him he’s a MONSTER, I’m going back inside and don’t bother to summon me, don’t even bother coming over again if you can’t respect our friendship…he hollered:

“WHAT? You brought the bag back down but you’re NOT gonna charge my electronics? Fuck you, you’ll never see the dogs or me again, for MONTHS!”

“Sounds like a good idea,” I retorted, then closed the gate behind me. Once back at my work station, I heard Deek holler up to my window: “Zeke! Zeke! Get down here!” Curiously enough, his howls weren’t particularly strident, and he ceased after a few seconds.

All was quiet for the remainder of his lingering downstairs, and about forty-five minutes later they had all departed, and the ATM nook was empty again as if they had never shown up in the first place.

He has yet to return, and I wonder WHEN that will occur, and HOW it will turn out. I am greatly concerned about Flaco & Lucky’s well-being, above and beyond anything else, including my own. It is my HOPE that the vagrants who witnessed his ugly outbursts will have a good talk with him…especially Scampy. They all sat there in silence throughout the entire ordeal, as if witnessing the behavior of EACH of us and, upon departing, would report back to headquarters (wherever THAT may be, and whoever runs it), and present a fair assessment. My bodhisattva guardians, all of ’em!

Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Not a peep from my attorney!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 30, 2022 at 2:04 AM

> Just awful. I’ve been on the receiving end of disgusting verbal abuse from people I’ve bent over backwards to help. It’s almost inevitable.

I really don’t care about that, it’s the doggies that concern me…he’s traumatizing them, but the idiot doesn’t give a fuck. So every time he visits me, he’s gonna start screaming, and eventually the pups will connect me with his anger, and be afraid to go near me. They no longer greet me with the boundless joy they used to.

Which I think is because he yells at them more, because he’s “stuck” with them all the time, and doesn’t really love them enough to show real kindness and patience. So they feel dejected. I’m pretty sure, then, his more frequent, hideous outbursts are the result of my not being able to provide sanctuary for his pups, anymore. This is the hellish outcome the evil building manager has created…much to his sadistic glee, no doubt.

> Sounds to me as if he was putting on a show for the other vagrants. And he knows that the doggies are his “insurance” that you won’t cut him loose entirely.

Right. And he’ll pay for that. I warned him he’s headed in a bad direction, but he just gets even screechier. And the dogs cower. Several days back when Deek was waiting for me to come outside, I saw that his (supposedly) ex-girlfriend Scampy was with him. He just wanted to pick up his devices, so I stood with the gate partly open and he stepped up to collect them. Before I shut the gate, Scampy smiled at me with a friendly wave…I did likewise.

In his outbursts last night, he was trying to get “his people” to gang up on me. He doesn’t seem to get it, that they see right through him, but do not criticize his vile antics because they want their “candy.” This isn’t the first time he’s made a scene to try to make me look like I’m abusing him. Didn’t work those other times, either. He wants to be some hot-shot punk, the top drug-dealer in the Castro, the big boss…it’s all a selfish fantasy that’s gonna backfire. I wouldn’t care one iota if someone fucked him over, but for the doggies.

FYI: “his people” is any group around him or made up, to make it look like he has a whole army of street punks backing him up. Hogwash. “His people” number less than one. I understand through someone who sees him frequently (or at least, used to), that Deek once told him to murder someone who supposedly crossed him. Besides behaving so foolishly and putting someone on the spot, I strongly doubt this person screwed him over…more like Deek screwed THAT person over, and wants to get rid of him so he won’t be nagging him any more, or broadcasting Deek’s offense (most likely theft or not paying back a loan).

Three nights ago Deek offered me a lovely, black Chinese jacket with those cloth buttons in front that you pull through a small loop each. On the back was a gorgeous outline of a dragon in silver thread. I told him no thanks, it’s not my style.

“But I thought you LIKE dragons!” he remarked.

“Yes, I do,” I explained, “but I don’t wear that kind of jacket.”

Then I pointed at the pooches curled up on a comforter he had laid down for them, and suggested he cover the dogs with it.

He snarled at the very idea, said that’s STUPID to waste such a classy item on a dog, and HE’S gonna wear it.

“But they’re wonderful dogs,” I appealed, “They deserve ALL the nice things you can give them! They’re God’s GIFT to you, they’re your lifeblood, your heart!”

He muttered on about my “foolish” suggestion, so I let it drop. What I SHOULD’VE done at that point was say:

“Okay, I changed my mind, I really DO like the jacket.”

And then, when he handed it over, I’d declare:

“It’s now mine, I can do what I want with it. So I herein gift it to the pups, it would look lovely covered over them, and keep ’em warm on top.”

Damn, I blew THAT opportunity right outta the water, didn’t I, Wattson? Well, not really when I think about it. After all, about a month ago I handed him a worn jacket I didn’t use any more (though it still looked lovely), for the mutt’s bedding. But he snatched it up from the ground where I had tossed it, and said “Nah, I could use it, I’m cold, too!”

That same night (of the dragon jacket) he told me Lucky got “stuck inside her,” meaning they copulated.

“It went on for twenty minutes,” he grinned like a Howdy-Doody puppet.

“You shouldn’t let them do that, Deek,” I grimaced. But he persisted:

“He could still make her pregnant, you know. It DOES happen now and then, even when the male’s been neutered.”

I didn’t bother to comment any further, as I figured he was just taunting me, and I think it’s a lot SAFER to let him fantasize how Lucky could actually inseminate Flaco, than his looking for some other dog to take charge.

Some four days ago, Deek asked if I could watch the pooches while he shaved and washed up at the public loo down the block. I said of course, and so I sat in a corner of the ATM alcove, while the pups rested beside me, switching now and then from a shady spot to a sunny one, then back again. It was very sweet to have those precious fifteen minutes in their company, after being denied that for so long!

I believe Deek went out of his way to give me more time with them, after our argument the night before. (Well, HIS argument, to be honest…I never argue back AT him, but speak the plain truth without raising my voice.) He was condemning me for never visiting with the pups more than a minute or two, whenever they drop by.

“Deek, that’s only because you never LET me spend more time with them!” I exclaimed. “Or you start screaming at me, and the dogs get scared. And sad! So I walk away so you’ll stop.”

That was aNOTHER day he flung a prolonged temper tantrum at me by the ATMs, in the presence of street friends…trying to turn them against me. Though he wasn’t NEAR as foaming-at-the-mouth hostile as he was last night!

Boulevard Joe said something to me several weeks back, that I found hurtful and offensive. I was discussing the progress I’m making with my eviction case, and how I’d like to settle out of court with the agreement to continue dog-sitting, in exchange for my not suing them back. He chuckled at that:

“Wow, I remember when you first started having the dogs over. You were always pissed-off whenever Deek dumped then on you, and couldn’t wait to get them off your hands! Now you’re in love with them.”

“That’s not true, Joe,” I replied with astonished disappointment over that remark. “I’ve ALWAYS loved both dogs and have not even ONCE griped about them staying with me. I don’t know WHERE you came up with that, because it just isn’t true!”

He didn’t respond, and I didn’t bother to rake him over the coals, though tempted to do just that. What the fuck is wrong with him? First, trying to scam me with a fake Canadian bill that he claimed was worth $50, and now this rude and dishonest remark.

I think they’re still testing me, strengthening my will to resist negative accusations, so they won’t sink into my bones…by making such blatantly FALSE declarations…and Deek’s more frequent fits of anger. Bodhisattva-Premise-wise, I mean.

I even consider the possibility that Ms. Elvensborn is doing so, likewise, by leaving me in the dark for a time, to see how I’ll deal with it. Of course I’ll handle the situation with aplomb, when I return to her office Monday to ask the secretary how she’s doing, I’m worried because I haven’t heard from her in more than two weeks, and she never responded to my “touching bases” email I sent LAST week. This unpleasant thought just struck me:

My attorney may have fallen seriously ill BEFORE she got a chance to register my reply to delay my court appearance (or even better: cancel it). For she never INFORMED me that chore was accomplished! Which means the sheriff could show up soon as Monday, and have me evicted! It would be my word against his, that no summons was properly delivered…and I’d surely lose THAT argument!

> If I were in your shoes, I’d hustle on down to the attorney’s office on Monday. We don’t want ANY surprises!!!!!

Certainly I’ll do that…first thing in the morning, right after breakfast. Hopefully, the sheriff won’t show up before then.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: The Curious Case of the Vanishing Smartphone
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 30, 2022 at 1:33 PM

Besides Deek threatening to unleash his army of street punks upon me, he said if I don’t charge his devices, things are gonna go down BAD for me! To which I responded before disappearing behind the gate for the final time that night WITHOUT his gizmos in my bag:

“We’ll just have to see about that, now won’t we?”

My conclusion: his playing a street punk is gonna backfire and I’LL wind up being a leader of the transient fiefdom. Well, not a leader so much, but a respected advocate on their behalf. I’ll leverage this, in part, to get the brindlekin better care on the community level, including keeping Deek in line for their sake. Now, here’s a curious incident I neglected to include in my most recent update:

Four days ago when I stepped outside to meet up with him, he was babbling about a smartphone that a resident of my building lost, but was identified to be last located somewhere in or around 9666 Market Street. He spoke in a staccato, excited fashion, making it difficult to grasp the plot line, but I listened as best I could. So here’s what came down, as far as I can discern:

The owner of the lost phone is a spindly black fellow, 6-foot-2 in height, who moved in to Hotel California North about three years ago. Since I don’t know his name, let’s just call him “Cedric” for now. He’s a bit of a snob, but nice enough, and loves to gussy up in flashy, semi-drag-queen attire. Runs up or down the stairs sometimes, so you’d better step aside. And that made it difficult for me now and then, when I was escorting the dogs in or out the building.

Deek and pups were hangin’ around out front, I guess, when Cedric and a couple of friends were also standing nearby, and arguing with another resident: Karlsen, my bowlegged, Bohemian neighbor down the hall. They claimed he was the next person to ride the same Uber vehicle, after Cedric exited, only to discover his phone missing (it probably slipped from a back pocket and onto the seat or floor). Cedric stated that his geolocation history indicates the last known location of that phone is this building. Thus, Karlsen was their suspect, and they threatened to beat him up.

Now, good doctor, please understand that Deek was so rambling and disjointed in the telling, it was difficult to grasp what REALLY went down…so the above details are my own interpretation. In fact, in the middle of his jumbled explication, I interrupted him for clarity’s sake:

“So, you’re saying they threatened the bowlegged guy with violence, if it turns out he stole the phone?”

“NO, NO!” he furiously proclaimed. “He doesn’t have anything to do with that, you’re not fuckin’ listening!”

“Well I’m trying, Deek, but you need to take a deep breath and slow down,” I replied.

With that, he broke out in screeching expletives and accusations, so I said, “That’s it, I’m outta here,” and promptly returned inside, ignoring his angry echoes that trailed me up the stairs.

Once back hovel and seated at my desk, I deliberated upon what Deek told me. For one, in an outdoor conversation with Karlsen several days previous, he had mentioned he no longer has a smartphone, which makes it difficult to look for part time employment. “But I’ll be fine,” he added.

So there’s his motive for claiming a lost phone…however, that is not PROOF, but simply speculation. For I’m sure he knows that using a phone registered to another would quickly catch up with him and possibly lead to criminal charges…or at best, an angry resident that he’ll have to live with for all the remaining time he (or his accuser) resides in the same edifice, which could be YEARS. Furthermore:

Geolocation is not accurate to a point, but only reveals the general vicinity. Thus, the final location indicates only that it was identified as being somewhere around this address, not necessarily INSIDE the building. But it DOES suggest that whoever found the phone is savvy enough to access the settings and turn OFF geolocation, and possibly erase OTHER evidence of the owner, such as their Google ID, apps registered in their name (like Facebook), and so on. Upon reaching this conclusion, I suddenly realized:

“Why that savvy person could be ME! And the latest smartphone Deek gave me to charge two nights ago looks spanking new, so it COULD belong to Cedric!”

My hunch then, is that Deek found it lying in the gutter or on the sidewalk, having slipped from the owner’s pocket, then onto the floor whereby inadvertently shoved out the door by a foot! Since the phone is encased in a gel protector, there would BE no clatter when it landed on a hard surface, to grab Cedric’s attention.

The first thing I ALWAYS do whenever Deek presents me with a new smartphone, is to turn off location features, remove evidence OF the owner, including all contacts, as well as turn OFF the phone alert (both audio and vibration). But when I checked for the Google ID on that smartphone, I saw whoever owned it did not yet register it to his gmail addie, nor was anyone on the contact list. And I removed all user-installed apps, and disabled MOST of the ones I couldn’t eradicate, seeing as Deek ONLY uses a smartphone to play rap music.

So this explains Deek’s nerve-racked TELLING of the incident, as he ALSO suspected his latest device belonged to Cedric (and he got very CLOSE to being exposed)…though he certainly wouldn’t admit it to anyone, including yours truly!

I would think Cedric is smart enough to stand by Karlsen’s door and dial his number with a friend’s phone, to see if he heard its ring go off (presumably set to a personal audio clip that would clinch proof of theft). However, should he decide to check outside EVERY resident’s door, that certainly wouldn’t happen should he stand by MY abode, since the ringer is turned off…assuming, of course, it IS his phone I’m charging.

No point in bringing this up to Deek, as he’d likely shout me down, tell me to shut up…thereby thwarting my latest attempt to teach him how smartphones work. And why I spend considerable time setting up each of his phones to protect him from possible retaliation.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: I wonder if posting this missive to my blog will some day get me into legal hot water. I certainly don’t need any more of THAT…but what price a good tale?

Subject: My most effusive apology, dear Wattson!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 30, 2022 at 2:06 PM

But I couldn’t help myself, as this image is just TOO deliciously appropriate for my “vanishing smartphone” tale, as the leading illustration! For it portrays YOU, the John H. Watson to my Sherlock Holmes, as Porky Pig! Just be assured I certainly didn’t PLAN it that way. And while considering for a few brief moments that maybe it would be best to strip out my Daffy Duck sidekick, I concluded that, without the porcine compadre, it would lack that certain je ne sais quoi, and thus make it far less impactful upon my adoring fans. But if you DO have a problem with it:

May I suggest you contact Warner Brothers’ Looney Tunes department. I’m sure they’ll straighten it all out. Meanwhile, you would have to pry the cartoon oinker outta my cold, dead hands, if you are THAT offended!

Though I sincerely hope our decades of sterling Victorian camaraderie will NOT be shattered by this, my latest move…a surprise even unto myself. Stalemate, anyone?

Yours in friendship, always (and may it ever be so):

Zeke K-Holmes

Re: My most effusive apology, dear Wattson!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 30, 2022 at 3:34 PM

> No worries, podner; I rekkernized myself in theter pitcher right away. Mighty flatterin’, if y’ass me.

Th-th-th-that’s all folks! Or is it? Somehow I feel like I’m in trouble, and I will soon be dragged into court on a defamation-of-character charge…

…by Porky the Pig, himself!

And I’ll be playing my own attorney, as no REAL lawyer would ever agree to handle such a daffy lawsuit!

Subject: My external display crapped out!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 31, 2022 at 5:15 PM

Was great while I had it, found the computer display on the back porch four years ago, a Dell 22″ screen I hooked up to my x230 Thinkpad. It was heavy, though, something like 22 pounds…so a real pain to have to move to the panty and atop the fridge, every time my room needed bedbug treatment. And my x230 is useless without a second screen anymore, since its own display died out a year ago.

Fortunately, I had enough cash in the bank to get a truly lightweight replacement (7 lbs.), same screen size, for just $114. Better yet: since it’s a Prime offer, it will arrive no later than 10pm tomorrow. And I still have $105 in my Chase account, which is very good.


Nothing to report yet, as he still hasn’t returned. But I did see Scampy in passing last night, as I exited the corner grocery store on Noe & 17th. Accompanied by a tall fellow I’ve not seen before, she gave me a really friendly hello as they whooshed on by, like they were actually going somewhere in particular. Of course, I returned a happy greeting, glad to see how well she’s doing: nicely dressed, confidant in her stride. QUITE an improvement compared to just a few months ago! (Or was it, as I surmise these street rogues may be more than they let on…bodhisattva guardians who play a humble role…and they’re watching me.)

The important thing is (regarding out latest encounter): Scampy was there the other night when Deek had this outrageous fit of anger, so she witnessed firsthand how I handled the crisis. And that, dear Wattson, makes her kind salutation last night MOST appreciated. For it indicates I’ve impressed at least ONE homeless person, and word will surely get around.

Now get this: as I reached the corner to cross Market Street, another vagrant greeted me by surprise. I didn’t notice him standing there in the nook carved out by the mini-garden where I used to meet up with Deek and doggies. And it was dark!

“Hello, Zeke!” he called out to me, so I turned in his direction to discover a rather tall young fellow who, to be honest, I did NOT recognize. He had a mop of shiny, orange hair (a wig, perhaps) and was nicely dressed. Not knowing who he is, I simply said:

“Hey, hello you too…I hope you have an excellent night!”

Maybe I should’ve paused for a little chat…don’t know why I didn’t, but the light was green and I was eager to get back hovel, and to my video distractions. I did look back, to see him lighting a cigarette.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: Nice to have this Chromebook for an emergency backup. And my Android tablet has come to the rescue again, playing my videos while typing away on the CB. Tomorrow I march on down to my attorney’s office…glad it’s such a short journey from home base.

Subject: Just heard from my attorney…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 1, 2022 at 10:16 AM

…after I phoned her this morning with a message that said something like “Hello, Magdalena, I haven’t heard from you in two weeks, and I sent you an email last Monday, but you haven’t replied. I hope you’re doing well, and I guess I’ll have to march on down to your office to find out what’s up, and…that’s it!” Here’s her response that showed up barely two minutes ago:

“Just heard your voice message. Everything is ok, the case is set for August 11, 2022 for the demurrer hearing. The landlord needs to fix their complaint, they made an error. Nothing is really happening now until the landlord fixes that. You are referring to an email you sent me that I did not respond to. Which email is that? The email below is the last email I got from you. I will update you about your case once I have one.”

She was referring to an email dated July 7th. Now, here is my response:

“Thanks for your reply! I have no idea how these things go, so I figured to touch bases with you last week, in an email called ‘Touching Bases.’ I sent it out last Monday, July 25, and it said ‘Nothing new to report here, no second attempt to deliver the court summons (yet?), no one’s knocked on my door. Just touching bases. Hope you are doing well, I’m just fine myself. May your day be lovely.’

“I am greatly relieved to hear you’re fine, and no sheriff is about to surprise me with a knock on the door. And I wish you an excellent day.”

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Just heard from my attorney…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 1, 2022 at 11:35 AM

> WHEW!!!!

You’d think she would’ve informed me PROMPTLY that the reply to the summons HAS been filed, and there’s a demurral hearing scheduled for August 11th…without my having to get her attention two weeks later! Be that as it may, here’s her latest reply:

“That is weird, I did not receive that email, thank you for letting me know! I wish you an excellent day too. I will keep you updated.”

And my response:

“Yes it’s weird, like my entire life. I will email you tomorrow, an idea I have regarding an out of court settlement, if it comes to that. Can’t send it now, as my main laptop screen has gone awry, but I should have it working again by tonight. Using my Chromebook for the nonce, which doesn’t have that file, nor can I access it from my USB hard drive’s backup for some annoying reason, nor has it been backed up yet to my Google Drive. Aargh!”

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Just heard from my attorney…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 1, 2022 at 12:42 PM

> I’m perpetually flabbergasted at how careless even trusted professionals can be. She should have known you were dangling by your eyelashes, waiting to hear of every step and development in the case.

No kidding, and she didn’t even apologize! Be that as it may:

I MUST take into account my Bodhisattva Premise, in which case they are testing my nerves. Well, not so much “testing” as “strengthening.” And I have EVERY intention of scoring 100 under ANY circumstance. Well, this is all going into my tales, and she will someday read the chapters in which she stars. Having said this:

I have COMPLETE confidence in her abilities as a superb attorney. One never knows WHAT another person is going through, and her vocation must be QUITE a burden…so many troubled souls under threat of going homeless, domestic violence cases and so on. Makes MY case look like a walk in the park…minus the muggers, sex fiends, homeless drug addicts, dog dirt and poison oak.

FYI: all our email exchanges are not just saved in my Gmail account, but backed up by Thunderbird on both my x230 and the Chromebook. And it’s the ONLY reason I use Thunderbird, so nothing outside these important messages will obfuscate.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Deek finally showed up, no drama…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 1, 2022 at 8:00 PM

…thank god. He still has that little doggy wagon which he acquired last week, so he can ride around on his bike with pups in tow. He asked me to watch them and his cart and bike, while he picks up some grub from the Chevron Station down the block (seeing as I just gave him Thursday’s advance payment). I loved sitting down by the lamppost with them, and they loved me back. They’re in GREAT spirits, albeit a tad sluggish thanks to the warm, humid weather today.

Charged two handheld speakers and a smartphone, gave the doggies water and a meal, plus a fresh supply of doggy vittles. Deke is parked around the corner now, but I think he’ll depart in awhile, seeing as all my chores were done from him and the hounds. Oh, yeah, he still has the camouflage pullovers I gave the dogs several days back…so that’s a good sign.

Interesting that, barely a few minutes after he arrived and I came downstairs, WHOOSH! Filipino Kai appeared on his own bike. Greeted Deek and myself, and asked how he’s doing. I told him he’s kinda worn out today, not feeling so good.

“Hush! Don’t tell everyone my business!” Deek griped back in a soft, tired voice.

“Personal?” I retorted, “You LOOK like a sack of moldy potatoes!”

And he did, though I think it may be an act, in light of his horrid temper tantrum last time he dropped by. Milking sympathy by mumbling, “I think someone shot me up with drugs when I was sleeping.” (A tactic his pants-pooping cousin always uses; he’s NEVER doing well when you ask him how he is. Any POSSIBLE opportunity, no matter how remote, to squeeze a buck or two or more outta ya, and he’s on top of it!) I just ignored Deek’s “drug injection” remark while I caressed and hugged the brindlekin.

After returning his electronics, I wished them all a lovely evening, hugged the mutts one more time, then just before I disappeared around the corner he said “Thank you!” And I replied, “And thank YOU for bringing these two, amazing doggies into my life!”

I suspect word got around about his abusive behavior towards me, and that is why Kai showed up, who gave me a smile and a wink as I waved at him before returning upstairs. As if to say, “It’s okay, everything’s gonna be fine, I got this, bro!” They must’ve chatted about this and that for a good half hour. Perhaps OTHERS have addressed Deek about his nasty antics that impact the pooches in a harmful way.

Meanwhile, my “delivered” monitor remains atop the lobby table in the apartment building several doors down. OTHER packages that were laying there have since been removed, so I presume whoever they were for, read my sign on the door but decided not to bother contacting me. This is drivng me nuts! Worse yet:

When I stepped back out with my note and a roll of cellophane tape, I saw the UPS truck parked out front and slowly pulling out. If only I holloered “Hey, wait!” he might’ve stopped and rescued the package he wrongly delivered. Fuck me with a duck.

I couldn’t even get a new loaf of my Alvarado Street Raisin Bread which I had run out of yesterday. because the store that sells it had also run out. This never happend before the pandemic, but now it does from time to time…THAT particular bread, an no other by that brand. So I had to settle for their whole grain burger buns that I like to toast and butter…though a far cry from their superb raisin bread, and almost twice as expensive by the ounce.

Then my Linux installed Firefox browser and Double Commander file manager refused to load today. Uninstalling and reinstalling them didn’t do jack squat for me! They are both vital tools in my work, so another frustration to deal with on this muggy Monday! And for some unexpected reason, I couldn’t back up my latest writing to Google Drive, since Chromebook doesn’t allow it! Google products are supPOSED to be integrated, so WFT?

And as if that weren’t bad enough, this Chromebook can’t handle either of my USB drives…I guess because they have THOUSANDS of files on them, and it just couldn’t process them all! Instead, it just grind and grinds away for several minutes, then poops out on me! So THAT backup option was also a big fail. And I CAN’T use my trusty old x230 because the fukkin monitor is sitting in the fukkin lobby of that fukkin building four fukkin doors down. I can fukkin walk by whenever I wwant, and fukkin SEE it, but not fukkin TOUCH it!

NOT the best day in my world, Wattson, but I count my blessings…for the attorney reassuring me, and Deek’s good manners for a change. And that the pups are in good health and spirit.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Deek finally showed up, no drama… ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 1, 2022 at 8:49 PM

Just moments ago he called up to my window, asked for a lighter. So I brought it down to see Lucky & Flaco nestled in their little wagon, with Flaco poking her head out to look at me…and seconds later leapt out to receive my hugs and kind words. Deek was playing some of the mellowest music I ever heard, which I guess still falls in the “rap” genre! You can hear a bit of it in this video I just shot, though this camera’s mic doesn’t do it justice, as it tends to exaggerate the noise from whatever traffic and pedestrians go by, though IRL you can actually hear the music quite well from my window. You can barely make out the puppy wagon, which is yellow. I gently escorted Flaco back into it, gave her a few more kisses before departed. Upon opening the gate I looked back and, sure enough, there she was gazing up at me with radiant affection, as is her way!


As I was preparing that video, I got a phone call from “Larry,” who said “I got your package for you!” in an old man’s shaky voice.

“Wow, thanks!” I happily replied. “I’ll be there in one minute!”

WHAT a relief! The box is now resting on my cot, about to be opened…soon as this missive gets sent. Woo-hoo!

– Zeke K-Holmes

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