The Guy in 5A

“Once upon at time in a far away land….”
Damnit, why am I writing that again? It’s been too long since I’ve sat down to write anything anyway, and now I can’t even think of what to say. That’s the phone, publishers calling me again. Damn that sound. Doesn’t she know everytime she calls she break it more. Where’s the Jack? Mother always said not to drink alone, she never had an artistic bone in her soul. Usually that phrase bone in her body. Maybe, but I was talking about her soul, so I guess it works. What if I just kept writing whatever I think.

“I don’t know what to write…..”

“Sometimes a writer is suffocated by his own…”

“What is the use of a writer who can’t write?”

“Who am I to call myself a writer?”

Well that’ll be a great novel. Where’s the bottle? Oh, there it is. 

What? Is someone knocking on that door? No. That’s Lisa from next door. I hate her. That yippy dog she always leaves home alone. Except when she goes to the grocery store. How does she get away with taking him to the grocery store? He’s so annoying. What about that ratty old sweater she always wears? That damn thing must have been around for years before she was even born. I don’t think even the moths would eat it now.

Why is she knocking on the door? We haven’t talked in forever. Put some pants on. No, then she’ll think I’m not paying attention to her. Get the damn door. She’ll think you are such a pansy.

“What do you want?”

“I just….this came to my mailbox instead of yours. I thought you might want it.”



I can’t believe I just took it from her and closed the door. I’m such an asshole. Why would I do something like that?

You could go talk to her about it. Go get some shred of your dignity back, tell her you’re just panicking.

She doesn’t need to know that. 

You just don’t want her to know because you are afraid you will accidentally ask her out on a date while you’re there. 

Fuck you.

I’m just saying. You know it’s true. 

Now I’m talking to myself, great. Any girl would want to talk to the crazy man in 5A. He talks to himself. And he’s a writer, but he can’t even finish his latest short story. He doesn’t know how to love anyone, and his Aquaman boxers are stained with macaroni and cheese. Yep, I’m a real prize.

What if she likes you?

Oh yeah right. Look at this guy, he has so much going for him, I have never even seen him fully clothed, and not in the sexy way. 

When was the last time I shaved?

(To Be Continued)

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