My bf and I saw this curious cutie this morning after getting coffee (picture by Tyler).
Howdy, folks - I thought I would just write a quick blog post.
First off - I know a lot of you have been waiting for signed copies of Toxic AF. There was a problem with my author copies - the first box was lost, and then they didn't want to replace them until they had proof that the delivery guys had actually lost them. Which took forever, and a lot of really annoying emails, and finally, a phone call. Anyway... they will be reprinting and resending them to me next week, so I should have some copies in hand a week or two later. I will send out a newsletter when that happens (join my very infrequent newsletter here).
Second, My Roommate, Kevin is delayed. As is Sopping Wet (under Knut Bonerman). Unavoidable. I've had to spend a lot of time just trying to find more graphic design/formatting work to keep up with rent. Fuck GenAI for what it's done to my business... seriously. I went from being able to pay my bills and spoil myself a little every month to barely scraping by. It's exhausting.
That being said, if you know anyone who needs a cover or some formatting or graphic work or... whatever, you can point them to me or my site here: www.bad-doggie-designs.com. I'd very much appreciate it! 🙏🏼 😘
I stood there, blinking slowly at the stranger in my doorway. He was not what I was expecting, given the ad I had posted on Craigslist.
ROOM AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY in large 5 ½ upper duplex near Villa-Maria metro – $350/month (hydro/heat/ultrafast wifi included). I’m a quiet, responsible, neat individual seeking the same. I work from home, so would prefer someone who works elsewhere. Steps from Monkland Village (grocery/liquor store/restaurants). Laundry in apartment. Large balcony in front and shared access to the yard in back. THE IDEAL ROOMMATE: queer-friendly, responsible, clean, quiet, no drama, no party, VEGETARIAN (no meat in my home, please). No smokers. No pets (I have a cat). Applicant must have references. Email for info. NO PHONE CALLS.
With his bushy brown beard, messy hair, and dirty clothes, the guy looked sort of . . . homeless. Since I immediately felt like an asshole for thinking that, I took a closer look at him.
Under his dingy red-white-and-black plaid jacket, he had on some more plaid—a shirt in green and navy—and beneath that, what looked like a white t-shirt. Absolutely encrusted with grime, his dark-blue jeans had a gaping hole in one knee and frayed, matted cuffs, neither of which looked to be “distressed” for the sake of fashion. Completing the look was a pair of beat-up, steel-toed work boots that might have been tan once upon a time. Maybe he was just a hipster who curated some sort of “authentic” look… or maybe he was a lumberjack. I mean, he looked like a lumberjack. A short lumberjack.
As the guy stood there squinting up at me like a small, dirty Paul Bunyan, I slowly leaned back to get away from the smell of onions and sweat. I had no idea what to say.
After an awfully long, awkward silence, he ran a hand through his messy hair, the matted beard parting again to reveal bright white teeth. “Am I in the right place? You JP?”
From the slight twang in his accent, I placed him from somewhere west, but not too far west—maybe rural Ontario. I nodded, then I frowned.
“Wait, how did you get my address?” I’d already received over a dozen emails from people asking about the room, but I hadn’t given out my address to any of them. Not yet. I knew I was stalling—I needed a roommate soon, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled about sharing my personal space with a stranger.
The guy grinned. “I grabbed a bite at the pub down the street and chatted up the gorgeous blonde working there. Said I was looking for a place, and she gave me your address.”
“Ah.” He must have talked to Laurie, my favourite waitress at the Olde Grove Pub a few blocks over. Laurie knew I was renting the room, and she knew where I lived—she’d been over once to collect some books and an old folding table I’d been giving away.
Crap. Who else has she given my address to?
“Is it still up for grabs?” he asked, distinctly hopeful.
I considered lying, but his smile started to fade as disappointment crept into his red-rimmed eyes. The guy looked exhausted. I gave him a tight smile. “Sure. Come on in.”
The bright grin reappeared, and he stepped over the threshold, dumping the faded and patched green rucksack he was carrying in the entranceway.
“Um. Leave your boots on the mat. Please.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He braced himself as he pulled off his boots, and I tried not to grimace. The crease of his knuckles and around every nail was black with dirt, and I was surprised he didn’t leave a dirty handprint on the white door frame. He stepped onto the hardwood floors in his no-longer-white athletic socks, one big toe poking from a hole, and waited for me to show him around.
Shoulders somewhere up around my ears, I gestured to the table and chairs in front of the patio door. “This is, um, the dining area and out there is the balcony. And, uh, through there is the kitchen.” I pointed like an idiot to the wide arch where the kitchen was clearly visible.
He walked past me and into the room, turning around in place as he nodded.
“It’s not big, I know, but it’s well organized. And there’s lots of light.” I had shelves full of plants on both sides of the big window. “And the stove is induction.” I didn’t know why I was bothering to tell him these things. I just couldn’t imagine taking him on as a roommate. “The room for rent is this one over here.” I walked through the dining room and pointed to the open doorway. I held my breath as he brushed by me, not wanting another noseful of sweaty onion.
He looked around, scratching his messy beard, his expression pleased. “Nice.”
The room was maybe twelve feet by twelve with a big window on the far side. The walls were painted light brown, and against the wall was a cheap IKEA futon that had seen better days. Both the paint and the futon predated my tenancy and, up until a week earlier, the room had been filled with odds and ends—like boxes full of cables I’d been dragging from apartment to apartment, Xmas decorations, a life-sized standing cut-out of Data from TNG, and a bunch of camping gear my ex had left behind. The decorations and gear were now taking up valuable real estate in my closet, but Data and the cables had gone to the curb.
“Uh, so, there’s no door to the room… that’s why it’s so cheap. I’ve been trying to get my landlord to replace it, but he lives out in Tremblant, and he’s never here. He’s a nice guy, just… sort of lazy. But you could put up a curtain or something for the time being.”
“Ok,” he replied, nodding again like he was taking mental notes. “This come with it?” He pointed to the futon.
“Yep. Keep it or toss it; it’s up to you.” Why am I getting his hopes up? Stupid Canadian politeness. “And there’s no closet, sorry. I think it was used as a dining room back when it was built.”
“That’s all right.”
I stepped out of the way to let him out of the room and followed him to the big living room. “The back door there has stairs down to the yard. There’s an old guy that lives downstairs, and he sits out there maybe once or twice a year, but it’s basically mine.”
“Cool.”
“And that’s my room-slash-office over there.” I pointed to the closed door. No reason to give him the full tour. “And there’s the bathroom. Laundry machines too.”
He poked his head into the bathroom and whistled. “A claw foot tub! Man, I haven’t seen one of these since I was a kid.”
I smiled. “Yeah, it’s pretty great for baths. A little awkward for the shower, though.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I had to rig up a shower curtain stand when I moved in, and the thing holding the shower head is a little low.” I shrugged. “You kind of have to duck under it.”
“Well, you might, Stretch,” the guy said, grinning up at me pointedly. I had at least a foot on him, for sure.
I laughed politely, and he joined in. He had an unusual laugh. It was oddly high-pitched compared to his gruff speaking voice.
“So, what happened to the last guy?” He asked, jerking his thumb back towards the spare room.
Jokingly, he gave me a suspicious, squinting look. “Anything I should know about you?”
“Ah. No. I’m totally boring, trust me. And there wasn’t anyone renting it before. I’m going back to school part-time and I need the extra money because I have to cut back my work hours.”
“Gotcha.” He walked over to his rucksack and picked it up. I followed to let him out, a little confused about the abruptness of his leaving, but instead of putting his boots on, he went back to the spare room and tossed his bag on the futon. “I’ll take it!”
I stood there, mouth agape for a second, trying to find a polite way out of this. “Um. Well. You see… uh… there are other people coming…”
“Well, tell ‘em it’s taken!” he said, chuckling. He pulled something out of his back pocket, and I stared at the thick wad of cash. He began peeling off bills. “First month, last month, and key deposit, right? How much do I owe you?”
“Oh. There’s no key deposit. I think that’s actually illegal in Québec.” I licked my lips, my eyes on the bills in his hand. “And uh, we don’t do ‘last month’ either. That might be illegal too. I don’t know.”
“I might as well give it to you anyway.” He held out seven shiny one-hundred-dollar bills.
My mind was pulling me in two directions, and I didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he had the money. It was right there. It meant that I could pay back some of what I owed on my credit card. How bad could this guy be? But, on the other hand, who was he? Why did he have so much cash? Where did he get it? Laurie might think he was nice enough to set him up as my roommate, but what did I actually know about him? Even looking beyond his grimy appearance… he had just walked off the street. He could be a criminal. Then something else occurred to me: he hadn’t read the ad. What if he was a homophobe? No way was I going to live in the closet in my own home.
“Just so you know, I’m gay,” I blurted out.
The guy looked at me a little funny. “Cool cool.”
At that moment, Loki, my tortie, decided to make an appearance.
“Oh, you’ve got a cat!” he said, squatting down. He pocketed the money and held out his hand to her.
“Uh. I wouldn’t do that,” I warned him. “She hates everyone but me. She’ll tolerate you after a while but don’t expect to—” I felt my eyebrows leap to my hairline as Loki began to rub her face against the guy’s knuckles, purring audibly. “It might be a trap,” I said weakly. “She really does hate everyone.”
“Animals like me,” he replied, looking up at me with another of those gleaming white smiles. He scratched behind Loki’s ears and under her chin, just the way she liked it. “Aw, you’re a good kitty. Such a pretty girl, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”
“Well, that’s a first.” I shook my head. “Ok. Listen… thing is, I don’t know anything about you. Like… what do you do for a living?”
The guy straightened, and Loki rubbed herself against his legs a few times before wandering off, her tail high. “A bit of this, a bit of that. I’m actually between gigs right now. But I’ll have something lined up in no time, don’t worry. Never have a problem finding work.”
“O…kay.” There was my out! I could refuse him simply for being unemployed. I was relieved.
Then he shrugged. “I just flew in this afternoon from Kuujjuaq. Was up there for a six-month construction contract. A government infrastructure initiative thing for Northern communities… helping to build stuff, fix things… you know? Working with people from all over the Nunavik region, giving them some extra hands and tools to get them where they want to be. Um, lessee . . . worked for a bit on a new hospital centre and then I helped to set up the new beachside port north of Kuujjuaq… then south to do some logging. Spent a few weeks just breaking up rocks to get a road through so folks don’t have to wait so long for supplies.” He laughed, looking at his hands. “Shit, I’ve got calluses on my calluses, but it was totally worth it.”
Oh great. I couldn’t very well refuse him now, could I? I’d look like a total asshole. “That’s pretty awesome,” I replied slowly. “I can’t even imagine going all the way up there.”
He grinned. “I’m just glad they’re not flying Otters anymore. It’s standard Boeings and shit now, except half of the plane’s cargo. But, man, just getting back to Kuujjuaq last night to catch my flight this morning was hell. Everything went wrong. I haven’t slept since… fuck, I don’t even know.” He pulled the bills from his pocket again and held them out to me. “So? Roomies? Hm?”
“But… what about references?” I said, trying one last thing.
“Aw, that’s fine, bro,” he said, thumping me on the shoulder. “I don’t need ‘em. You seem like a decent guy.”
That’s not what I meant, I thought as he handed me the $700, but I knew I was defeated. I sighed. “When do you think you’ll move in?” I asked.
“How about now?” He threw himself on the futon, and it creaked so loud I thought it would give out. He lay back on the naked mattress with a happy sigh, lacing his fingers over his chest. “Oh yeah, that’s the ticket.” He closed his eyes.
“Right now?” I hadn’t planned on this. I wasn’t ready to share my space yet. I needed a few days. Oh my god, what have I done? “Wh-what about your stuff?” Without opening his eyes, he nudged the bag with his foot. “This is all of it.”
Oh my god. “Do you even have sheets?”
“No, but I’ll go get some tomorrow,” he replied.
“Ok.” I stood there, feeling like I needed to say more but not finding the words. Loki brushed against my leg before hopping up onto the bed to curl up at my new roommate’s feet. I turned to go and then stopped short. “Wait… I don’t even know your name.”
The guy let out one of his high-pitched laughs, nearly a giggle. “Wow, my bad,” he said, sitting up. He held out one dirty hand to shake, and I hesitantly took it, not wanting to be rude. “The name’s Kevin.”
