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Authors:

pancakerabbit06, artillie , kensson , frenchroast , chaucerettescs , and whoever else happens by!
Ratings/Warnings:  None yet.
Open Characters: (Updated 8/4) Anyone living on the first floor, Mr. Erendrake of 2A, whoever lives in 2C, the mysterious spice-hoarding recluse of 3C, resident crazy old lady Fidelia Cotton of 4C, and an unlimited number of characters who may reside on the floors above.
Notes:  Unless it says otherwise, assume all letters have been slipped under the recipient's door.

Excerpt:
To: Current Occupant of Apartment 3B 

 

Hi!  Welcome to the building.  I’m Becca Roberts, I live directly above you.  Sorry I didn’t get to help you move in or anything—I try to be on first-name basis with everybody in the building, but lately I’ve been working a lot of night shifts, so it’s hard to socialize with new neighbors.  

I can still give you the inside scoop if you want it, though.  You’re on a good floor.  Morgan, the guy who lives in 3A, is super nice.  He plays viola some evenings, and he’s got a lot of talent.  (Just don’t say “good morning” to him if you see him in the hallway before 7 am, and he’s not holding coffee.)  As for your other next door neighbor, nobody knows much about whoever lives in 3C.  I don’t think any of us have even seen this individual; the only way we know that 3C is inhabited at all is that sometimes, for totally unknown reasons, it absolutely reeks of nutmeg.    Still he-or-she is totally quiet and never leaves anything blocking the hallway, as long as you like nutmeg, not a bad deal! 

So hey, tell me about yourself.  What brings you to the city? 

Becca 

P.S.  This is probably nothing, but it kind of freaked me out.  On my way home from work last night, I saw a guy in a suit outside your door, and it looked like he was trying to pick the lock.  I mean, for all I know, it was you, and you’d just forgotten your keys or something, it’s just that the guy bolted when he saw me.  I don’t know.  Maybe it was an innocent mix-up.

P.P.S.  Do you like oatmeal cookies?  I just made about 6 dozen, and am rapidly coming to the conclusion that this may be too much cookie for even I.


Comments

( 12 comments — Leave a comment )
artillie
Aug. 3rd, 2009 04:08 pm (UTC)
Dear Ms. Roberts:

Thank you for your kind welcome. My name is Anna Stern, and my disreputable roommate is Cadburry. If he tells you that your eyes are beautiful, please don't listen to him, because it means that he's trying to get into your pants. I am a secretary for a construction firm. What do you do?

We've noticed the nutmeg smell from apartment 3C in the past few days and were wondering about it. Cadburry speaks of "busting down the door" to check it out. The scent doesn't bother me, and I told him as much and called him a hypocrite. (Please forgive us if my roommate's marijuana smoke drifts up to your fire escape; I've tried to talk to him about his habits, but he never seems to listen.) I find Mr. Morgan's viola-playing relaxing when I get home from work in the evening. It's nice to have a name to put to the instrument.

I've always lived in this city, but my roommate has not. If you hear screams, crashes, or other worrisome noises, it's because we're beating each other up working out our differences.

And thank you for telling me about the man in the suit, Ms. Roberts. I'll have it looked into.

- Stern.

P.S. I'm not a fan, but Cadburry says, and I quote, "Fuck yeah" to the oatmeal cookies.
pancakerabbit06
Aug. 5th, 2009 12:58 am (UTC)
Dear Stern,

Nice to meet you! And tell your roommate I said hi. I assume Cadburry is his last name? I'm also going to guess that by "getting into your pants", you mean he'd be hitting on me, and not, say, trying to shoplift my trousers. Either way, I'll look out for from his pants-related machinations--thanks for the warning!

I've got two jobs, actually. On weekday nights, I work at Django's, a 24-hour diner about seven blocks from here. On the weekends, I'm a street performer. You know those "living statue" things where they paint their faces and wear costumes and stand really still? I could never support myself full-time on it, but it's nice for extra cash. Do you like being a secretary?

Haha, thanks for telling me about the smoke. I was wondering why I felt so mellow last night.

What do you think of the city? I thought it was a little overwhelming at first, but it's nice to live someplace where so many things are happening. Any places you can recommend?

If you don't mind me asking, how did you and Mr. Cadburry wind up as roommates? If your apartment's the same size as mine, then I can't imagine sharing it with someone else. I wish you luck in sorting out your differences without violence.

--Becca

P.S. One bag of cookies for your disreputable roommate! I'm pretty proud about fitting it under the door without breaking any. Um, hope nobody trips on it. Oops, sorry about that.
artillie
Aug. 5th, 2009 02:08 am (UTC)
Dear Ms. Roberts:

Cadburry says hello back--yes, that's his last name--and asks me to ask you what your cup size is. He is, in fact, hovering over my shoulder as I write this to ensure that it's going down on paper. I'm very sorry. He's walked away now. I should, by all means, cross that out, but something in me doesn't want to.

I also have a weekend job. I've seen a few of the statue people downtown--were you one of them, or did you work elsewhere? I've also seen them down by the pier. Being a secretary can be tedious work, but I find it rewarding. Also, I checked out your restaurant, and it seems that Cadburry works as a bartender in a bar not far from it. Would you like me to ask him to accompany you home sometime? No one would accost you in the middle of the night, with him at your side.

I've been dragged to Wolff's Biergarten und Wurst Haus, on Delaware St., a few times. I understand that it's a fun place to go, and the beer (the bier) is excellent by anyone's standards. The bartenders will talk your ear off, so I let him order for me, and I can't remember what we drank, but it was good.

Our living situations before this were more cramped. To be honest, we have a bunk bed--an extra-long one, to accomodate his frame, but still. We manage. We still haven't figured out who gets top bunk, though. Neither of us wants it.

- Stern

P.S. The cookies were appreciated.
pancakerabbit06
Aug. 18th, 2009 01:25 am (UTC)
Dear Stern,

I believe I've now officially met your roommate! And by "officially met", I mean "might've accidentally scared the crap out of him in the hallway last night." In his defense, it was 2 am, and I was dressed as a mermaid and holding a trident. (I am indeed one of the statue people who works at the pier, in case you were wondering.) Anyway, if you could let him know that I'm sorry for startling him, and that it wasn't some kind of wacky drug trip on his part, that'd be excellent.

So what is your job on the weekends?

Does Cadburry by any chance work at the Amarillo? I've never been, but I've heard good things. And thanks for the offer, but my typical hours lately have been 9 pm to 5 am, so I feel pretty safe walking there and back alone. Also, I make it a point to carry mace. (Hell, on weekends, I carry mace and a trident.)

Thanks for the tip about Wolff's.

Wow, where in the world did you live before here? I mean, I love this building, but I can't really imagine the apartments being much smaller than they are. How long have you two been roommates?

-Becca
chaucerettescs
Aug. 5th, 2009 01:19 am (UTC)
One note tacked to the door
I hope you don't find this terribly rude and I do hope that I have the right apartment, but last night, at an absolutely unmentionable hour, I noticed an odd, dark-haired young man quite pleasantly swinging from the rungs of my fire escape, knocking over a fair few of my planters in the process. I believe the young man was quite intoxicated as when I poked my head out the window to shout at him, he only murmured something about chocolate eggs and scaled the fire escape to your window.

I am quite certain the young man is a tenant of this apartment, or, at least, grudgingly hope he is, because if not, that's one more nosy stranger to worry about. If he is a tenant of this apartment, I would like him to know that he destroyed several quite exemplary Hydrangeas and that I really must demand compensation.

Peter Gray,
Apartment 2B
artillie
Aug. 5th, 2009 01:34 am (UTC)
Note tacked to the door in response
If it was a young black man you saw, then it was my roommate. Cadburry claims that he doesn't remember anything, and that if anything had happened he would have "totally remembered it because I was only blazed that night." However, looking down at the alleyway, I did see a flower pot and some purple flowers. How much did they cost? I'll tell him it was twice that.

Anna Stern, 3B
frenchroast
Aug. 4th, 2009 10:35 pm (UTC)
Dear Becca,

I know you've been wondering about the nutmeg smell as much as I have, and I've found at least part of the answer. Yesterday while I was leaving for work, the door to 3C was ajar. I pulled the door shut for fear of burglary (Mr. Erendrake in 2A mentioned you saw someone skulking about the other day), and while I certainly didn't mean to, I did notice five large tubs of nutmeg sitting near the radiator. I have no idea why anyone would need such an enormous supply of any spice, but it does explain the smell.

Have you heard anything from the newest occupant(s) of 3B? I was thinking of throwing a party on the roof next weekend so we could all introduce ourselves. I'll bring the drinks if you bring the snacks.

~Morgan

PS: There are some odd goings-on in the building across the street. Lights on at very strange hours. Have you heard anything about it?
pancakerabbit06
Aug. 5th, 2009 03:58 am (UTC)
Morgan!

Hey, how've you been? Sorry I haven't been able to chat recently.

Wow, I don't even know what to say about the nutmeg tubs. One mystery solved, another raised, I guess? Part of me always wondered if maybe the smell was meant to mask some other, more insidious odor, but if that's the case, I feel like there are more efficient ways to create the same effect. Looks like somebody's actually using a whole ton of nutmeg?

My main guesses at this point are either "underground eggnog-brewing ring," or some kind of drug thing. I think maybe nutmeg's got hallucinogenic properties? I'll look into it.

Oh man, apartment party! Great idea! It turns out we've got at least three new tenants: Anna Sterns and Mr. Cadburry in 3B, and also Mr. Erendrake said there's a guy named Alan on my floor now. I'm going to go party supply-shopping tomorrow night. Can you bring your viola to the party?

--Becca

P.S. Are you talking about the brick building, or the white one with the weird sculpture-thing by the door? I haven't noticed any weird lights, but on my way back from work last Thursday, there were a couple cars I didn't recognize parked on that side of the street. Which normally wouldn't be that weird, but it was about three AM, so yeah. Weird.

pancakerabbit06
Aug. 5th, 2009 03:33 am (UTC)
To: Alan

Hi there! Mr. Erendrake from two floors down said that a fellow named Alan was living in this apartment for a while, which is awesome because it's been empty for months. I've been wanting to introduce myself, but it's tricky because I work mostly nights, and by the time I'm off work, people are generally asleep. So here's a note instead! Hello. I live next to you.

I'm not sure if you've met our other floormate yet (you'd definitely know if you had--she's distinctive), but her name is Fidelia Cotton. She's the most terrifying 85-year-old I've ever met, but I kind of love her.

Also, if you ever hear string music wafting up through the floorboards, it's because you live directly above my friend Morgan, who plays the viola like a dream. And if you're wondering, the smell permeating the entire third floor is nutmeg, courtesy of the mysterious recluse living in 3C. We don't really know what that's about.

Lastly, and I'm sure this is nothing, but there was some guy in a suit trying to pick the lock of one of the apartments last night. (He ran off when he saw me.) Right now I'm assuming there's an innocent explanation, but still--if your room doesn't have a deadbolt yet, you should probably bug the landlord about it.

So, tell me about yourself. I think Mr. Erendrake said you were only staying here for a little while? He claimed you were in the city for jury duty, but I think he might've been confused.

--Becca

Do you like oatmeal cookies? I made a ridiculous batch recently, and I still have a ton if you'd like to partake.
kensson
Aug. 5th, 2009 05:10 pm (UTC)
Dear Becca,

Thank you so much for your welcome, delighted to make your acquaintance. It's refreshing to have one's neighbours make one feel at home. I should be delighted to remove some of the temptation of the biscuits from you.

I did have the pleasure of meeting Ms Cotton - I offered to help her carry her groceries the other day and she put me in a headlock for suggesting such a thing. Wonderful lady. Surprising strength. Had she not been distracted by Morgan's beautiful playing, she would surely have injured me more severely. Which reminds me, I must ask him a small favour.

As for me, Mr Erendrake is partly correct - I'm in town as an expert witness in a rather tiresome court case - I'm not at liberty to say much more than that. Thank you for the intelligence of the intruder - all rather intriguing. I'm sure Ms Cotton will have words with him if he tries anything on this floor. I noticed a couple of times that the main front door had been propped open; I hope I didn't lock anyone out by pulling it closed.

I look forward to meeting you in person soon. What is it you do on your night shifts?

Regards,

Alan in 4A
pancakerabbit06
Aug. 18th, 2009 03:29 am (UTC)
Dear Alan,

Here you go, two dozen cookies! Or biscuits, as some say. Are you English, by any chance? If so, it must be a fairly important court case to bring you across the pond, although I guess you could be an expatriate or somesuch. At any rate, welcome to the States!

Haha, yeah that sounds like Fidelia. She's got a pretty solid right hook, too. She's got a Corgi, which technically isn't allowed, but the legend is that when the landlord came to try to take the dog away, she answered the door with a shotgun.

Morgan's a pretty good friend of mine. I'd be happy to pass along a message to him, if it's not confidential or anything.

Don't worry about the front door. We're all supposed to keep it closed--if anyone gets locked out, they can just buzz one of their neighbors. I'll keep you informed if I notice anything else weird with intruders.

Can I ask what your area of expertise is? It's totally alright if you'd rather not share, it's just that it all sounds pretty exciting.

Especially compared to my present career. On weeknights, I cover the late shift waitressing at Django's. On weekends, I'm a street performer--specifically, a living statue, which sounds interesting until you realize I'm basically paid to stand still. (I jest. It's actually pretty fun. Grossly impractical, but fun.)

Have you met Stern and Cadburry yet? They moved in around the same time you did. Morgan was talking about organizing some kind of buildingwide get-together, which would be nice.

Also, watch out for Peter Gray of 2B. Something happened to his hydrangeas, and now he's on a warpath.

Have a great day,
Becca
kensson
Aug. 18th, 2009 05:00 pm (UTC)
Dear Beccy,

Do you ever get tempted to jump out at small children and go "RAAAAARGH!"? I know I would. Within seconds. As a statue, obviously. The opportunities for doing that while tending bar must be rather limited, and the surprise value much less.

The thing for Morgan... I got these index cards pushed under my door with music on and I was wondering what they were. I got my pal to scan them and put them online - http://flyingcoloursmaths.co.uk/images/music.jpg .

You're correct, I'm English, and I'm afraid I can't say much about the case, except that you'll have heard of all of the firms involved. As for my area of expertise... I'm a statistician, but don't tell anyone. As soon as word gets out that I'm a mathematician, nobody will ever talk to me again, even with what people insist on calling a 'cute accent'. You're the ones with the accent!

I look forward to my path crossing that of the others... except perhaps Mr Gray, unless he's calmed down a little.

Toodle-pip!

Alan
( 12 comments — Leave a comment )

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