I tried “sober living” in Texas 8 years ago.
Some guy I knew off of LiveJournal had invited me to Texas initially, and he meant well but his houseboy was a flaming hideous cunt and pathological user who thought I was moving in on his mark (one, not interested, two, I can get a job and a place to live with my fucking legs closed, OH, and by the way bitch your album sucks) wasn’t having none of me and hey, I don’t stay anywhere I’m not welcome unless they’re serving coffee in the basement, so after a few weeks of that I politely thanked them for their hospitality and off I went.
I was going from door to door selling AT&T U-Verse and sleeping in my Volvo when I found an ad for “sober” living on Craigslist.
The “sober house” was a little sketchy and the owner was this sleazebag named Otto who claimed to have 21 years clean though word was that he’d been drunk off his ass at several meetings that year. I would sit there listening to him on the phone spouting off different lies with different people, describing himself as the property owner, or the manager, or just as a resident depending on the conversation.
“I am the owner.”
“I’ll talk to the owner.”
“I am the manager.”
“I’ll talk to the manager.”
The guy was a trip.
Then one day, he reconfigured my 10×12′ room to accommodate four people, installed bunk beds in the garage, and then started moving people in.
I was like, “I think it’s time to go sleep in my Volvo again.”
Otto refused to give my security deposit back.
He edited my lease, removed the portion about getting my security deposit back after moving out, and said “this is your new lease.”
I said “That isn’t how a lease works.”
He wouldn’t budge, so I started posting ads on Craigslist about the 8 Mexicans living in the garage.
He e-mailed me and taunted me that he didn’t care what I was doing and to just go right ahead.
I had $5 to my name and no gas in my Volvo.
I spent my last $5 on a 40-ounce can of Heineken, which I took a sharpie marker and wrote “Drink me, asshole” on.
I drove to the sober house and put it in the mailbox for Otto.
Well. He did drink it.
He left me a drunk ranting voicemail that my $250 was in the mailbox and I’d better come get it before one of the other residents did.
The last I heard, everyone in the house was drinking and doing heroin after that.
Just me and one other dude that got the fuck out of there sober.
I’ve no idea where my last $250 to my name even got me other than from there to here.