VKP Day

Prologue

For the past 6 months, ever since we moved into the Kristin Park Apartments in March, The Gargoyle made our life a living hell. She harassed, stank and complained, and in the end nearly destroyed my family. The Gargoyle, with her reign of terror, started what will be forever known as the Kristin Park War. What ensued was not only a struggle for our basic rights as apartment tenants, but a battle for human dignity and peace of mind. This is the story of that historic conflict.

It Begins

It started with the stench of cigarettes in our bedroom. It seemed to amass in our closet almost like a living thing, creeping out at night to strangle us while we slept. At first we thought it was the water heater seeing as that was where it was stationed but that turned out to be a false lead. The smell was so bad that we couldn't hang any clothes in there (they are still in boxes in the living room) or they too would smell like Satan's asshole. We eventually came to realize that the stench was emanating from the apartment of our 68 year old downstairs neighbor named Juanita, a Spanish expatriate (yes, at one time she was human). Being the kind and naive neighbors we were, we nicely asked her to follow the apartment rules and smoke outside. This was our first mistake. From this point things began to quickly escalate.

Soon began the complaints from below. It started as a subtle, "If you don't stop running around up there I'm going to cut off your legs and deep-fry them," to my 2 year old daughter. As emotionally scarring as this may be to a 2 year old, we took it in stride and ignored it. Then it turned to me "stomping around" when I got off of work at 11 o'clock at night. Meanwhile the smoking continued.

Then, one day in March, as I again woke up with my eyes red from cigarette smoke and my lungs hurting I remarked to my wife, "It'll be a wonder if she doesn't burn this whole place down." That very same night it nearly happened. We awoke choking from thick black smoke at approximately 3:30 in the morning. It seems that Juanita (even then she was regarded as human) had fallen asleep with a cigarette in her hand and had caught the dining room floor on fire. Our problems were nearly ended there when she almost died from smoke inhalation. Feeling no remorse I called the fire department and notified the apartment managers. Finally, we hoped, something would be done. She was told to smoke outside "or else".

The Battle Is Joined

So she complied, kind of. During the day she would squat outside on her folding chair, with the door open mind you, and smoke. And glare. In her bright red stretchy pants and black and white striped t-shirt. This is how she became known as The Gargoyle. Of course she blamed everything on us so things got worse.

In mid-May we received the first notice. "Someone" had complained that we were throwing dirty diapers off the back porch into the back yard. I will state right now that this never happened. I called to ask who the "Someone" was and was told that the management was not allowed to reveal that information. But I knew who it was, and they knew I knew. From this point on I decided to take the offensive. I made my first official complaint of many about her still smoking inside.

The Darkest Hour

For the next couple months things looked grim for the Brooks' Residence. There were almost daily threats from the monster below about amputated limbs and scorching oil punctuated by notices from the management about imaginary trash and pets, all based on false information. The Gargoyle even had my stepmom's car towed from her parking spot which is never used. Then started the calls to the police.

While I was at work and unable to defend myself and my family, she would call the police and complain of "disturbances of the peace" and of me stomping around at 3 o'clock in the morning while I slept. Though no charges were ever pressed, these encounters often left my wife reduced to tears and me in a rage when I returned home after work. Stress began to build and my marital relationship was strained to the limits, causing domestic disturbances which led to more calls to the police from downstairs. The elevation of stress seemed exponential. It was during this time period that she made her fatal mistake.

The Downfall

In August The Gargoyle sank to an all time low and called my work. This proved to be her undoing. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. Harassing my family, though not nice, was tolerable. But attempting to disrupt mine and my family's livelihood and sole source of income was taking things too far. I made a harassment complaint to the management stating that if they did not take care of the situation, it would come to legal issues and they would be forced to be involved at their own expence. This they did not care for.

Unbeknownst to me, I had had silent allies throughout my battle. Like the French Resistance harrying the Nazis, my other neighbors had been submitting complaints against The Gargoyle, chipping away at her war-making capabilities. This coupled with my harassment complaint caused her defenses to crumble. At the end of August she was informed that her lease would not be renewed. She had until the end of September to be moved out. This was what we had been waiting for. Victory seemed certain - but not quite. As a last ditch effort she played the "old crippled lady" card and gained a one month extension. Yes, The Gargoyle would be leaving, but not before another month of hell had passed.

She did her best for the month of September, I'll give her that. Smoking outside stopped completely and was resumed indoors. Loud, thumping Spanish music greeted us early every morning. Four days ago we received one last notice for a baby wipe that was allegedly thrown in her back yard, though no wipe could be produced. Then, as of two days ago, she was gone, leaving behind nothing but Gargoyle stank and a broken end table. The Kristin Park War was finally over. Victory was ours!

The Aftermath

Yes, the evil monster beneath my floor has finally moved. Though I wish I could sing "Ding-Dong The Gargoyle's Dead", alas, this is not so. The menace of The Gargoyle still exists out there somewhere. Nevertheless, it is a time of celebration - and recovery. Finally the stench of cigarettes, nasty food and even nastier old lady may finally dissipate. Maybe sometime in the near future my clothes will be able to claim their rightful place in the bedroom closet. Even more importantly, it is a time to rebuild the family bond that was so badly damaged in the war. But as it says on the Brooks' family crest: "Perseverando" - we will persevere.

Thought of the day:

"Make the best of what is in your power, and take the rest as it happens." - Epictetus