Lá Fhéile na Marbh

Last week, on Monday I think, I had just got in from work when the doorbell went. I live in apartments where you have to buzz people in. So I answered the phone thing^[1] , it was some fella asking for my flatmate.

Normally she gets in a little after me, so I said he could wait for her, thinking of course that because he knew where she lived and what her name was that he knew her.

He arrives at the door, chatting away like a mad yoke, and almost at once that little lightbulb goes off. He doesn’t know her. Doh!

And at that moment I remember that flatmate won’t be home for ages, she has this work-related thingy on. So I say this, he keeps chatting as he tries to write down his address. Telling me that he met her on Sat night as she was walking home and was, well, a little on the tipsy side. And in their walk back they got on really well. He goes on to say that she obviously really liked his sense of humour because she was laughing at everything he said.

I couldn’t resist, I had to bring up the fact that she was drunk, and in that state anything is Hi-larious^[2] That shut him for a moment. And he focused on the writing down his address. Only the pen ran out. So I gave him another. Which fell apart. Eventually I think it took him four pens, but he managed to leave his address, he has a mobile but didn’t leave his number because he doesn’t really like talking on it.

Don’t know why, he seemed to like talking to me, couldn’t shut him up.

He was only in the apt. for like five minutes, but I swear I learned his entire life story. What his job was. Where his parents are from. What he does for a living. All this and more.

Anyways, he left. So all was right in the world. Only for him to turn up the following day. I answered the door again. This time not inviting him up, but lying and saying that no, flatmate was not in, all the time trying not to laugh as she stared at me in horror.

And that was not the last we heard from him.

He came by a few times last week, including fairly early on a Sunday! And fairly late one Thursday. But a few days went by. No calling. So we figure he got the hint. I mean how many times can you call by and get a “no. she’s not here” response?

We were just chatting about how he finally understood when the door goes. Yup. He was back… Only this time instead of asking if he wanted to leave a message I say “if she wants to see you she’ll be in contact” Do you think that was obvious enough?

Two minutes after that ring at the doorbell we hear a knock on the door. Shit! is that stalker-boy^[3] Flatmate legs it into her room and shuts the door; whispering intensly at me, “I’m not here”.

I open the door….

Fucking trick’r’treaters!

Kids in Hallowe’en masks singing a song at me. Well I was a little confused. Isn’t Hallowe’en at the end of the month?

Turns out these cheeky buggers were going to be away on holiday, so wanted to do the rounds before they left. I told them that we didn’t have anything, which is the truth. I mean, who keeps a stash of mini-bars and whatnot in case mad kids come calling? And cheeky bugger #1 insists we should have known. That they sent notes round. They put letters in all the boxes.

Cheeky fucks.