WHAT A RACKET

I received the deposit check from my old apartment last week to find forty five dollars deducted for cleaning. I was a bit surprised because I had spent several hours cleaning the old shoebox before turning in my keys. And before checking out, I invited the apartment manager to take a look to make sure everything was satisfactory. She told me to make sure it was "clean" and then waved me away without even looking up. I guess I was interrupting her counting and recounting her stacks of gold coins.

So anyways, I called her Friday afternoon to get the specs. She told me twenty five dollars had been deducted for the oven. “Fair enough” I said, “I did forget to clean the oven, but what about the rest?” She told me that ten dollars had been deducted for the tub and another ten for the toilet, which is pure, 100%, Spanish imported, USDA approved, bullshit. I told her so and she responded with classic form. She took my words and hid them under a walnut shell and then proceeded to play three card monte with them. You know the game. Where’s the truth? Step right up and see if you can find it! You might as well cue the carnie music, because I know I'm not getting my money back.

And that’s okay. Because she obviously needs the money to complete her gender reassignment surgery. It must be really tough living in limbo like that.