Sandy Shores Part 5: Fatso

Backwards now, to part five, which was preempted when all hell broke loose:

What can we say about Fatso? He's bigger than a house, with bad legs and a bad attitude with regards to the earthlings he is forced to share a planet with. We're talking bitter contempt for every attitude and every habit; physical or mental, which humans generally consider normal. He considers humans to be fully insane, deeply deluded, superstitious and narcissistic rationalising child-robots, lacking any considerable capacity for logic, wisdom or objectivity.

What a dick, eh?

For a long time he had a far kinder attitude about these things. He was constantly aware of human duality, and saw the consciousness of people as victims of their instinctive selves; saw their plight as genuinely pitiable. He saw humankind's litany of daily sins as inevitable, as per the law of causality, and forgiveness utterly unquestionable, for they know not what they do. He loved them, and he had special relationships where he was privileged to express more-directional love in his own idiosyncratic ways, but those parties have all gone their separate ways, and Fatso is left in the cold and very aware that the superstitious nonsense which governs human minds and human societies is holding him back from celebrating life in the joyful ways in which he is aligned and which a sane society would gladly accommodate. It would seem that his starvation for direct love has poisoned his reserves of radiant love.

 

Luckily he doesn't think about these things when he's dealing with people face-to-face, such as with his housemates at Sandy Shores Peace & Enlightenment Sanctuary. He warmly appreciates the Diabolic Duo's cooking habits which produce a wide range of results; occasionally very delicious ones, and their willingness to share, and he does his best to engage with their playful brand of humour ranging from adolescent to pre-toddler. Everyone at Sandy Shores currently survives on disability benefits and engages together in a sort of marginalized persons economy; a sort of code where no man is left behind. Fatso shares food supplies as a contribution and helps Yougenius with various things, most prominently of-late, with a job search which involves a whole barrel of fun we might try to describe some other time when we can bear it.

And he appreciates the Baron for his warmth and honesty and helpfulness and ability to use his brain cells rather than attack them with harmful narcotics.

Fatso still has visiting nurses and PSW's looking after he and his wounds but perhaps not for much longer. He tries to get outside with his walker for a stumble each day plus two sessions of physio exercises. And he works every day at his Dungeons and Dragons empire. He's putting together a whole new version of D&D and a couple of deeply immersive D&D campaign worlds. He plans to host the game for money, as a home business, and to give his clients the ultimate D&D experience. It's a lot of work to prepare such a thing, but a labour of love, if Fatso still knows what love means.

Sandy Shores Part 7: The Reaccretion of All Hell

Okay, look: The story gets rapidly less interesting from this point on, so let's quickly get it over with.

The PSW arrives on the scene (personal support worker) and fatso sits in his car with him, staying warm and venting. Then they drive to Tims Coffee Paradise where they part ways and Fatso stays for coffee and a sausage brekky bagel. He doesn't want to go home to whatever nightmare is brewing. He then devises the only reasonable solution which is to hit the cheapo bar for $4 pints which mysteriously do not help him think clearly after all.

He hails Aqualad for advice, then calls the manager who promises that she did not repeat the entire roster of accusations to the accused and reports that those fuckers merely diverted the blame for the cigarette smoke to the Mexican embassy next door, so they probably think they've gotten away with it for now and Fatso should be safe to go back home without fearing reprisals.

So he did and found that Yougenius was still eager to be buddies and while Krisastor was frosty at first, he too came around within a couple days.

Sandy Shores Part 6: The Breaking Loose of All Hell

Fatso wakes up to his PSW-appointment alarm at 7:45 AM and is immediately detecting cigarettes smoke even through the filters of his CPAP machine. He scrambles out of the mask and is welcomed by a mouthful of tasty cigaretty air. He pulls himself up out of bed panting with the effort and with fury.

"Fuckers!" he cries, loud enough to be heard by the Mexican embassy next door. He pulls on jeans and warm shirt. "THOSE FUCKERS!" he shouts, loud as he pretty much possibly can. He storms into the kitchen where Krisastor and Yougenius look up in alarm. Their bedroom doors are open and the kitchen is a muthirfucking cigarette smoke cesspool. Fatso bumbles into the bathroom, shuts the door HARD and pisses in the ash-rimmed toilet where butts and ashes have recently been flushed with monkey-grade precision.

He storms back through the kitchen where those fuckers have departed. He wrestles his coat off the hook, leans into his walker and stumbles outside, closing the kitchen door behind him with a BANG, notifying the Baron that a meltdown may be afoot.

It's Friday; a very cold one, and snowy and being forced out of his own room into this discomfort bumps the fatso-fury quotient into defcon 1.

He fumbles with his cell-o-phone and gets the manager on the line. "I cannot take this anymore! The whole unit reeks of smoke! I'm outside freezing because of those lunatics! They are smoking in their rooms every day and every night and I am not paying another dime of rent until they are EVICTED! They're doing illegal drugs every day! They don't wash their dishes! They steal things! I cannot take this shit ANYMORE!" Fatso's brain is positively on fire and he is winding himself into uncontrollable hysterics. He continues spitting threats and obscenities until he is too hysterical to form words.

"I'm on my way over!" says the manager.

To be continued.

Sandy Shores Part 4: Hold on to your hat!

Are we ready for this? I don't know if I'm ready for this. But let's give it a try:

The Yougenius

He's 50 years young, bi-polar, and also autistic I think. He says he was diagnosed as schizophrenic during his imprisonment at the Hamilton Psychiatric Hospital. He says he checked in voluntarily but then they would not let him out for a long time. He can only read or write a little bit so he leans on Fatso a lot to help him spell words so he can text his on-line pals who all have attractive Caucasian female profile photos but text using the syntax you normally hear from males from India who are always explaining their latest emergency to Yougenius and why he needs to send them money so they can come visit him in person. Fatso begs him daily to TALK to these "girls" instead of texting, a solution which would more swiftly weed out the scams which represent roughly 100% or so of these encounters, and which would free Fatso from constant spellchecker duty.

But this chapter is going to be eight years long if I am too anecdotal. Let me try to be concise:

The Yougenius is possibly deluded and either way, is a constant liar. He seems incapable of managing his own affairs, let alone the affairs of his "employer."

By employer we mean the Investment company who manages the Sandy Shores Retirement Resort and Health Spa. They pay him to shovel snow and mop the floors and put out the garbage. He claims that he is the "Superintendent", that he is "in charge" and that management only pays him $40 a month for his services which amounts to roughly $1.40 per hour, which was roughly minimum wage over a half century ago when you could buy a new car for $3000 or a loaf of bread for 20 cents.

But then, Yougenius claims that every associate he's ever had has abused and victimized him. He says he was raped and beaten as a foster child while all his family had abandoned him, that every former employer stiffed him for wages, and that previous "friends" threatened him and forced him to defraud the government for a total of $18,000.00 which they kept and which he is now forced to pay back, and that the police refuse to do anything about it. He claims that almost two months rent worth of cash was stolen from his bedroom and that the landlord should not have charged him that amount of rent and thus he was also victimized in that regard.

He claims that he is a qualified paramedic (with no certification) and that he has saved many lives by praying for people who eventually recovered. He claims that he is an angel and the Son of God and that he can control the weather when he chooses to. He also has live direct conversations with God, whom he calls "Father" when speaking to him. He claims that all his enemies will be punished.

Every time you step in the kitchen he hears you and immediately emerges from his room to engage you. Ninety per cent of the time this engagement involves angrily glaring and bitterly spitting complaints about all these victimizations and the rule-breaking of other tenants and all the work and sacrifices he must suffer as a result.

To a new audience in Yougenius's life it feels like he is raging directly AT you as if YOU are the perpetrator and can be very alarming, and for those of us who know him well it feels like he is raging directly AT you as if YOU are the perpetrator and can be very alarming.

And he has total apparent amnesia, reiterating the same complaints three times a day, roughly a hundred times a month.

For instance he rages about Krisastor smoking cigarettes and crack; yes, CRACK, in his room (which he indeed does, EVERY day) and always leaving his dirty dishes in the sink. Meanwhile Yougenius ALSO smokes cigarettes AND CRACK, YES, CRACK in his room day and night, and also leaves his dirty dishes clogging the sink, claiming that they are Krisastor's; not his own, though he and Krisastor share their meals.

Anything at all that Yougenius imagines, he treats as god's sacred truth, and if you dare introduce any kind of contrary logic into the conversation he gets EXTREMELY AGITATED.

That said, Fatso and the Baron love the guy and bravely tolerate him because they understand that he is mentally ill and that his inability to manage his affairs leads him to immense frustration and desperation and apparent delusion with regards to blaming others.

Besides, Yougenius, when the good side comes out, can be awkwardly loving and playful and at the times the food banks have furnished him generously, he is eager to share. Also, when he steals food from Krisastor he is eager to share that too.

Are you exhausted from this? I know I am. That's all for now. 

Sandy Shores Part 3: The Baron

This chapter will be quick and dirty. We're saving the creme de la creme (Yougenius) for chapter 4. It'll be a doozy.

The Baron claims to actually be of British baron lineage but, just like some "pure-bred" dogs, he doesn't have his papers.

The Baron is friendly, considerate, quiet (bless his soul), and eager to be helpful. He's spectacularly unsteady on his feet and prone to seizures. He's a Trekkie, a hobby writer and serious collector of sci-fi and fantasy books and comics and D&D dice. He loves, not tea, as a good baron should, but coffee, and he loves joking around/light-playfighting with Fatso and Yougenius, both whom with he shares his Netflix account for $5 monthly contributions. He hates the Krisastor.

If you'd love to hear what films and serials the Baron has been watching along with lengthy detailed plot descriptions then by all means come spend the day at Sandy Shores manor and the Baron will gladly put on a pot and regale you to your heart's content!

The Baron gets two thumbs up.

Sandy Shores Part 2: The Disaster

Krisastor the Disaster was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he. He called for his meth and he called for his cigarettes and he called out every adolescent thought that came to his head, at the top of his voice, day and night, to ensure that no one in the manor ever could sleep very long and so that their every endeavor in life was built around the soundtrack of his constant idiotic voice.

Krisastor smokes in his room all day every day and also through most of the night. There must be some problem with his little bedroom windows because he does not open them. His room reeks of smoke all the time and it creeps out his door into the hall and kitchen and fucks with other tenants and makes their lives miserable. He constantly cooks and makes coffee with spastic jittery glee and spills everything he touches all over the stove, countertops and floor and almost never ever cleans up after himself. He floods the sinks with his dishes and recycling and leaves it for others to eventually wash. When he does dispose of recycling he just throws it in the garbage. He dribbles his piss on the bathroom floor and doesn't clean it up.

Best of all, he gets fucked up on drugs several times per month and spends a day and a half tweaking like a maniac; wailing and caterwauling and crying and whooping and laughing and gibbering and slapping and banging and breaking things and spraying slop all over the fucking place and keeping everyone awake all day and night. He also has a bad cough and coughs as loudly as a human intentionally can, optionally throwing his vocal chords into the mix as loudly as possible. When he trims his beard he leaves his hair all over the sink, faucet and countertop.

To make ends meet he scams fake medical issues for extra benefit money and services and he shoplifts.

If one attempts to engage him in a discussion concerning his behavior he immediately responds by yelling in order to shut them down. He sometimes has a creature visit him in his room where they smoke together, besides getting up to whatever ungodly things we don't want to think about. This creature resembles a human woman except that her eyes are lifeless and she speaks like I imagine undead would speak; incoherently.

Visitors are not allowed in the manor after 10 PM but Krisastor delights in breaking this rule along with every other rule.

Yougenius, Fatso and the Baron have yet to figure out how to kill the krisastor and send his demon soul back to the pits of Hades but they're working on it. You may donate silver weapons via their GoFundMe page.

Sandy Shores Part 1: The Manor

A brief description of the facility: The compact structure with it's dirt-and-weed based lawn, broken mud-room window, murky lampless exterior, useless swaths of semi-detached door screening and frequent refuse-heaps is largely hidden behind a bulging row of sinister conifers which, to their credit, have not to-date assaulted or harassed anyone. There is a lovely generous back yard locked off; forbidden to tenants but not to refuse-heaps or creeping, window-devouring vines.

Inside we have the off-limits mud room with semi-functioning door locks, a little hallway which almost always reeks of cigarette smoke despite the "no smoking" clause in all resident contracts which, much like the no-drugs, no messes, and noise and visitor limitation clauses, were apparently all penned just for shits and for giggles. We have a little kitchen with a generous supply of implements and crusty cookware, cupboards falling off their hinges, fruit flies, mice, the occasional rat, coffee-sugar-and-sauce-encrusted countertops and a fridge brimming with putrefaction experiments.

We have a grey and jaundice bathroom with inoperative window and four bedrooms each of distinct qualities, each intended to serve as bedchamber, dining room, office and living room for it's lucky tenant. Oh yes! Almost forgot. Also stored within the facility are four assets known as "tenants" who are constructed from flesh and blood and who might even, by some theoretical enlightened beings, be considered "people," with actual lives and emotions and human rights and all that crazy stuff.

Well, frankly, dear imaginary reader, I'm exhausted already. God knows how YOU must feel. Let's recess until tomorrow. And by tomorrow we of course mean: "the unspecified future."

Lounging at Sandy Shores Manor: Intro

Introduction

This story is entirely true and accurate except that people and places have been renamed in order to protect the innocent and the guilty and the monstrous. This is not being told primarily to entertain, though maybe it will? It's being told out of utter necessity, and with a very specific audience in mind. In the future, when liability is no longer a burning issue, all will be explained. If you don't find it entertaining or relevant to you, then I invite you to skip further installments. Each will contain "Sandy Shores" in the title.

It's the story of Fatso and his days of languor at Sandy Shores Manor, located at the crossroads of Sandy Shores Road and Lindon's Hearse Lane. It's the story of Fatso the Contemptuous, Yougenius the Angelic, Krisastor the Disaster and The Baron; Warden of Kindness & Sanity.

I suspect the chapters will be very brief. Tune in tomorrow for entry number one, if you dare, and have painfully little else to do!

Cheers.