Tales From The Other Side pt. 2

This story is creepy in a different way.

One beautiful spring afternoon in mid May I was doing a trash run at the main apartment complex and was approached by a tenant. He asked me if I wanted to smoke, but I declined because I'm paranoid and the situation kind of freaked me out. He said if I ever wanted to take him up on his offer to just stop by his apartment because he's always there. The next day I did. It's was pretty late in the day and I had nothing else to do, so I thought I'd be able to get away with it. We both took geebs and shot the shit for a few minutes before my supervisor called me. There was some older lady wanting some spackled over holes covered with paint. Extremely nervous, high, and red-eyed I gathered my supplies and went to the lady's apartment.

I walked in and the first thing I noticed were the walls. Every wall in the place was almost completely covered with little porcelain trinkets. At first I thought it was extremely weird but soon convinced my balls high self that it wasn't that weird, "Ya know, some people just like worthless pieces of porcelain to cover their entire wall." But then I looked up and saw the people who lived there. They weren't overly disgusting looking or anything, but they were a strange looking group of people. There were three of them and they were all sitting on a couch watching some Queen Latifah movie. On the far left was the older white lady, I'd say mid 50s to 60s, who talked to me about painting the random spots in her place, on the far right was a very old lady, I'm assuming the other lady's mother, in the middle was a young very frail looking African American male, and on his lap was a tiny dog; some kind of dirty brown Maltese looking creature. Just as I don't believe in ghosts, I am no racist, but this grouping seemed strange to me.

Anyway, the entire time I'm painting the walls the dog would not stop growling and barking at me, followed by the African American fellow quietly in an almost southern and feminine voice telling the dog to "hush now." I look up at the dog and people and nervously chuckle because in my head I just fucking know that they know that I am high as balls. My eyes more red than the devil's dick, the faint smell of piny skunky weed smoke coming off me, I look again, and not one of them, excluding the dog, are paying the slightest bit of attention to me. They were too enthralled with that fabulous Queen Latifah and all of her zany but heartwarming antics. I hurried with the painting, painting a wall faster than any wall I had painted thus far, said "have a nice day", and got the fuck out of dodge. That was my last day.