Leftovers

"By the hammer of Thor!" I cursed as the agent handed me a lease. When Melvin said he wanted to rent a duplex, I imagined a nice starter home. Neighbors we would share plum cakes and friendly gossip about the window washers with. It was going to be yellow with white trim, picket fences and perpetually blue skies. What it was not supposed to be was this gray shack, complete with squeaky hinges and trash on the dirt yard/driveway, and those wild hippies next door causing everything to be misted with a fine veil of patchouli stink. I refuse to live in such conditions.