His name was Timmy

We've come to the meat of the story here. Two days into my stay and I finally got to meet the Ellis's in person. I (formally) introduced myself to Mr. Ellis and thanked him from the bottom of my heart for allowing me a place to stay. He looked at me and said "Just for now. Keep your room clean or you're out on your ass, got it?"

Well hello. Thats how I felt. Three feet tall, worthless, and in a place where I was completely unwanted. Attempting to roll with it, I began to offer services that I could provide for the house, such as cleaning, shopping, etc.... and he walked away. Mid-conversation. Hmm. Okay.. well in a few days we'll get acquainted and discuss numbers in terms of the rent money. Naturally, this was something that should have been discussed weeks before I moved in, but I was constantly assured that I didn't need to check with the parents, and that for all Nick knew, I might not have to pay at all. I wouldn't do that of course, but I was crossing my fingers for something reasonable. They knew I'd lost my home and family, had no real money, and was staying for as short a time as possible. After wrestling for their attention, I heard that the elder Ellis was hoping for an exorbitant $600.00 a month to stay there. To rent a tiny room in my friend's house... Six hundred bucks. Thanks for the favor guys! Though a sheer pity party and begging (the discussion of which I WASN'T ALLOWED to attend) I managed to squeak by with $300 a month. Left me nothing to put towards a car or anything, but hell.. its better than six, and I'll take it for a roof over my head. Sure, Three hundred is fine! The next couple of weeks passed by quickly and relatively quietly. The younger son Chico has been released for a visit and stayed overnight in his old room, but all in all absolutely nothing remarkable happened. Until Timmy came....

I returned "home" from work to find someone moaning loudly and throwing up in the room next to mine. Scared shitless, I called Mr. Ellis and he explained that that was Timmy, his wife's son from another marriage. "Timmy isn't feeling well right now." Oh? Well whats wrong with him? "He's sick".... Okay. There's a news blackout on this or something? Well whatever, I don't care. I wish I'd have been informed that he was there, but hey... their house. I come to find out that Timmy is suffering from severe Oxycontin withdraw. For those of you who don't know, Oxycontin is a highly addictive painkiller, suited for patients suffering from gunshot wounds or missing limbs! Okay, he's a druggie. He should be in the god-damned hospital, but no, he had warrants out for him! Alright, alright. He seemed nice enough though, and he was cool to me when I talked to him. His kids and... well... wife, maybe? came to visit and they were nice. Timmy was an excellent cook, so I was more than thrilled to finally be eating decent food again. The thing is though, bipolar people are intolerable. Much like Bruce Banner, Timmy could turn into a raging beast, getting in cussing matches with his mother, arguing all day and night with no regard for anyone, stuff like that. Granted everyone in the house did that, though...

I'd gotten some instructions on how the Ellis's wanted me to keep my room looking, so I spent a weekend rearranging it. All was fine. "Timmy's wife is pregnant. Can she have your room for the baby?"

And it started.

So far there was nothing unreasonable about anything they'd done, except for the complete lack of communication and the attempted highway robbery. Things get worse from here on out, so I wanted to take a moment to mention that while a few people in this world have decided to read these blogs, there are some that won't find them favorable. Is it really a crime to give people a peek behind the curtain when I was used, lied to, ripped-off, robbed, and betrayed? No. It needs to be done....