Finally, piecing it together, how it all went down. Meeting with the nurses, others of Stormy's friends, it goes something like this.
A neighbor, perplexed and concerned about the maggots that were coming out of her wall, called the police. Who broke into Stormy's place to do a "Wellness Check", probably expecting to find him dead.
Instead they found his flat. I've posted photos of it before, and, given that he stopped allowing me in and the foul winds that blew forth from it when he opened the door I'm gathering that things got worse.
So - the police in Stormy's flat, not finding the body, then call the fire department who condemn the place. Bits of rotting food, feces, everywhere, piled two and three feet deep on the floor. They begin to empty it out, dressed in full hazmat suits.
Stormy, thankfully, is not here for this - but he shows up on his scooter to witness it, there's a confrontation, the police are there, he attempts an escape - on his scooter - the classic "Low Speed Chase", he's caught without too much trouble and "given a ride" to the hospital.
News of this reached estranged god-bothering sister who apparently shows up to loot the remains.
Now the hospital is in a quandary, who to call, what to do, no living relatives that he cares to speak to, and so he's appointed me - amongst others - as his guardian. Papers to be signed to get him into the extended care home. Other details. And meet his other friends, who I find out have believed far too much of his ramblings with very little evidence.
The theory - which they accept as fact - surfaces: STORMY IS MARILYN MUNROES SECRET ILLEGITIMATE LONG LOST SON...
Fitting, that, and while hesitant to put any credence in it who am I to question such a plot twist?
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- Category: Stormy
Since moving to town I've been avoiding Stormy. The last couple of visits he rather tried my patience, and I'm terrified that if he finds out where I live I'll be marked by the neighbors as a nuisance with his constant visits, panhandling and unsolicited gifts. But - the few times I've run into him on the street he's insisted I go to pick up my scrolls - they've been piling up outside his apartment...
And so, today, after an unsuccessful morning of prospecting I head over. And there's a lot of shit. A dozen bags, purses, etc, all tied together with sting, yarn, rubber bands, you can't pick up one bag, you have to take them all, and god-damned, this place was clean for a full 2 weeks and now I have to do a major unboxing...
That's it, though, the food goes in the garbage and all the dumb-ass toys and books he's lifted from the free piles scattered around Nelson are going back to his house!
There does appear to be a lot of scrolls, though, so it seems like I have my reading cut out for me.
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- Category: Stormy
So I haven't seen the guy in about 7 weeks or so, finally on a rare trip to town stopped by. He's the same.
His house, the same, packed chock-a-block with rubbish, if you look close that's him lying on his bed under the suede/sheepskin coat.
A space heater set up in his bathroom, no fire-hazard here...
He explains the mess by telling me all these extraneous possessions absorb the heat, keep it warm for longer...
And, returning home afterwards, a ton of bags of stuff/scrolls to go through.
Christmas gifts for the kids, for me, for anyone I might know. And, at first guess, 200 (??) Scrolls, but after spending 2 hours looking at them and rerolling them I'll revise that number up to about 500. I still have a lot to go through. Scrolls for the daughter, son, new models (Ms. Mountain Climber Gal, Ghost Gals), treasure maps ("Chinky Cave" up behind Riondel. No, he's not particularly politically correct), other absurdities. Par for the course, maybe 10% of the scrolls are "Good", the rest, well...
I'm not going to be one of those vandals that destroys everything that I don't like, but there was a lot in this load to rebel against, and there's something psychically draining about reading any quantity of these at once. One is a joy, 500 is a plague.
Anyways, that's it, he's alive and well, I started making an unboxing video but got so discouraged that I ended up aborting, the same over and over again.
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- Category: Stormy
Tuesday, my one trip to town, get gas, groceries, cigarettes, catch up with friends. A proper blizzard, roads covered in slush, first off the bat - Stormy.
Now, Stormy should never be first off the bat, but I wasn't thinking. The hill that he's on, it's slippery in the fresh snow, the jeep stops - barely, and I'm loathe to hang out for too long, but Stormy, his scooter, the charger's off to get repaired, he's been housebound these past few days and maybe I can help him run a few errands...
The first, of course, to the bank. Where he gives me his debit card and instructs me to withdraw $200, only he doesn't have $200, so $100 it is, nice try. From here down to buy him some cigarettes, then over to Extra-Foods where I have to buy him some candles, then for breakfast. He eats, I just have a coffee, he's spotted in the hallway a painting for sale - terrible, but he wants it, and as it's by donation the waitress goes out and just grabs it for him, I pop out to use the washroom, by the time I'm back he's packed up his food, painting, is ready to go - he's tipped the waitress $35 on a $15 breakfast.
From here - some more errands - past the antique shop - not open, past the coffee-wagon - closed, to the bike shop to check on his charger, to the deli where he instructs me to honk and the cute Quebecois proprietor brings him out $5.00 worth of cheese and takes his breakfast leftovers (to presumably throw away because I'm pretty sure I'm the only human being to eat anything he's offered), back to his house to drop off his treasures, then back down to Wal-Mart to drop him off, he's been riding me like one of those demons in folk tales that get on your shoulders and never get off, gouge you with their spurs...
I leave, and am only shortly into my own errands when I discover that he's forgotten his house keys in my jeep - I return to the mall, find him, return them, and now he's waiting for a ride home ...
He's gotten some new mittens, shows me, he went to the lost and found and protested that he'd lost his, then chose the best set they showed him as being the ones that he lost, he knows, he knows...
This, it fucks up my day entirely, the blizzard is now fully underway and my need for human company has completely expired, I check my odometer - 15 KM on his errands, 15 KM in a town that's 1 KM wide.
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- Category: Stormy