Spotted In Bed Stuy: The New World

It has been a rather eventful week for yours truly. While I could go into a blow by blow account methinks the following statistics will suffice. NOTE: save the first bullet point all incidences have come to pass in the last six days;

• Number of days without heat: 55
• Number of visits from HPD: 2
• Number of individuals found smoking heroin on Chez Shitty’s stoop: 1
• Number of times the NYPD has been summoned: 1
• Number of times my upstairs neighbor has called the landlord: 2
• Number of times the landlord called the previously-mentioned woman “pretty”: 1
• Number of electrical outages in the public areas of Chez Shitty’s building: 1
• Number of visits from the Fire Department: 1

The latter most came to pass at 10:30 p.m. Monday night. Yours truly awakened yesterday morning more than a little dazed and confused. I needed some peace and quiet— so I headed to Flushing Avenue without delay. It has been my observation that a walk around Woodhull is therapeutic on such occasions. It is peaceful? No. Quiet? Hardly. But it does makes one feel better about his/her condition, e.g.; it can always be worse. It was on Park Avenue that I spied the following.

I imagine some explanation of what you are looking at is in order. Here it is.

Ahoy!

the chap you see at right exclaimed

Would you be happening to be doing laundry? I have happened upon this pair of pants. (holding them up, so as to showcase the hind parts which revealed, um, some not-so-gentle wear and tear and “added value”) As you you can see they have a hole in them. Would you perhaps like to fix them?

The gentleman agreed, threw down a skein of yarn and, well, you can see the rest for yourself.

Just as you are probably are, I was wondering what the fuck was going on. As I was walking away I got my answer:

Welcome to the New World. It is conveniently located next door to Paradise.

Miss Heather