Crazy Times at Costello Music

The alarm clock jolts Henrietta out of a peaceful slumber. Groaning and swearing, he slams the snooze button and rolls out of bed. She makes her way to the kitchen and rifles through her cabinets for her morning medication of instant coffee and sugary Pop-Tart knock offs. She sits down as her water boils and looks at her calendar. April 30th. Rent is due.

Obnoxious moans become the soundtrack to the migraine that's beginning to form in Henrietta's temples. It seems good ol' Lisa is at it again, starting off the day with a morning fuck in the ass crack of dawn. Henrietta wouldn't mind if the walls weren't so thin and she had gotten laid herself. Part of her envies Lisa, honestly.

Her kettle's loud whistle tells her it's ready for her coffee. Taking it off the stove, she pours it into her mug, stirs the milk and sugar, dumps two spoonfuls of the coffee and she enjoys. The generic brand Pop Tarts crunch in her mouth as she chews; she flicks the crumbs to the ground without so much as a thought. The rat will get to it later.

She checks her answering machine for any important updates: Frank has caught the flu, Damien wants to get back with her, the maintenance people want more money for their services and a tenant is once again complaining about the lack of hot water.

The usual.

She deletes them all and starts her day.

She sits in her office, scribbling mental notes about thicker walls and better plumbing. Her mailbox flaps open with rent money from each tenant, steady rhythm music to her ears. This goes on for hours, until her door suddenly flings open.

A harried young man bolts inside, looks at her, and sits down.

"I-I-I…" he begins. Henrietta waits patiently for him to finish, eyebrow cocked.

"I want a 4 bedroom apartment. I can pay upfront now. My name is Leopold Stotch, and I'm part of the band Sick Sticks."