Squatter Therapy

My journey of healing began when I bought two door locks on sale at Canadian Tire. As a retired person, pretty much all forms of recreation are closed off from me by racism. People of my age in Toronto, used to spend retirement hours in activities at libraries and museums, at the park and restaurants. That does not happen now. What can I do to decompress? I decided to spend the Easter weekend squatting. I feel good!

Some people just rub me the wrong way, so, sure, I used to make a few bucks spotting their place for Squatters. Downstream, I could gloat over my revenge, and make sixty bucks. But heading into Easter. I just wanted to be the squatter, not the invisible hand. I decided to take advantage of Squatter Rescue!, the phone app that pays you money, and sign up for their Squat Broker! service.

I arrived at my new place in the Squatter Rescue! van. Like all good squatters, we work in pairs. My squatter partner was Jim.  The door locks were already being changed by the friendly people from Squatter Rescue! when we drove up.

I helped carry in Jim's recliner chair. There were other supplies, too. There was Jim's knapsack filled with reservation smokes. I was going to start chewing tobacco this Easter weekend, so I brought my overnight bag and a Disney themed spittoon. We both had ten copies of the lease; and paid in full! What a value!

The house was beautifully furnished with white rugs and golden furniture. We put Jim's recliner in front of the big screen, and pushed around the furniture so Jim could put stuff down and not have to get out of his recliner. Jim has gout. Having access to the house, we made accommodations for him. He started chain smoking even before the beer keg was open.

I explored the kitchen. There was ice creme in the fridge, so I ate it. The big game was coming on, so I took all the frozen meat out of the freezer and left it out to thaw. Jim is a sports fan, a die hard, so he already was eating out of a can of beans. Jim likes maple syrup beans and is a Habs fan. 

My first night of squatting. I slept so peacefully that night. I need an extra pillow (to put between my knees when I sleep because I have lumbago), and I could not really find one suitable, so I took clothes out of the dresser and bunched them in a ball inside a sweatshirt. It was very comfy. Jim had set the heat to max, so I woke up drenched in sweat. The sheets and improvised pillow were soppy. 

I just opened the windows to let in the cool winter air. I hoped snowflakes would land on my tongue when I was in bed! I changed the bedding, of course. The sweaty stuff I stuffed into a closet, to ferment until rediscovery. 

Jim is a powerful snorer, and you have to keep the lights on and the music blasting so he could sleep. His own snoring wakes him up, so he needs bright light and noise to trick him into thinking it is really daylight. He was a union worker, and can only really sleep in a work place setting. He drools a lot into his pillow (post office, go figure), and he should have a fresh glass of water (plastic cup is better, for falls) on both bedside tables. 

I awoke at noon, awake and refreshed. Thank you, Squatter Rescue!

Living on someone else's dime means big breakfast! The same van that Squatter Rescue uses came by, this time from the food bank! I felt like Conrad Black! There was a bottle of gin, cases of beer, expensive cheeses, cabbages, turnips, and, frozen lasagna. Thank you, tax payers of Toronto!

I put pots of water on to boil on the stove to bump up the humidity. Jim has sensitive skin, and a high humidity helps him with his chaffing. I did not know this at the time, but you should not put too much oil into a pot of water you are nearly boiling dry. Soon everything in the kitchen was covered with a film of oil. This was not really noticed, as a problem, until the day of the Yard Sale.

The Yard Sale. I like selling stuff! I got to keep all the money, too! What a sales incentive! Jim was working on a case of pop tarts (blueberry and chocolate with sparkle frosting). By this time there was a noticeable debris field of cigarette butts in a demure leopard pattern of cigarette burns around his recliner. The stench of cigarettes drove out the stench of burnt carpeting.  

The nice people from Squatter Rescue! co-ordinated the advertising for the Yard Sale. They managed to sell all the heavy stuff over the phone to one guy; a truck arrived around midnight, and the helpful crew (all wearing masks) took anything they wanted. Jim had no plans for doing laundry that weekend, so the yard sale people took the washer and dryer, too. There was some computer stuff, but that was given to HR*. I have a degree in mathematics from the University of Waterloo, and know nothing about computers.  

I never believed that you could watch paint dry. Then I watched the walls turn yellow from Jim's chain smoking. You could see the white oxidize out of fabric. Shine went away. Everything lost its whitness and color and became uniform dingy. It was like DEI. The high humidity from the constantly boiling pots of water (with a dash of olive oil) accelerated the process. I wrote Gramsci on the olive oil container. 

I felt like a kid again. I put spices from the counter into the boiling water. What a nice smell! But when I put cumin and cayenne on to boil, Jim told me to cut it out. So, I threw that pot of water out the front door. 

The pagans arrived at sunset. They sacrificed a pig to a wooden idol, then cleaned it, and put it on to roast over a fire pit they dug in the back yard. If you did not stand in the back corner where they dumped the guts, it smelled nice. 

The only neighbor I saw came out that Saturday evening, after dark. He was wearing a hat, but it was small; it was not a knit cap. He stood in the downwind smoke of the roasting pig, watching women with blue painted breasts dance around a fire. There were some mushrooms going around just then, so I went over to him and offered him some. He looked like a man who had just realized that a canoe trip on the Niagara river was a bad idea. Mushrooms would help that, for sure. They were free too. Anyway, he left without speaking. I felt welcoming.

An angry lady showed up around supper time on Monday. That was April Fools day. She did not explain herself very well. Jim said I should tell her to go away. I gave her a copy of the lease. Jim said I should put up a copy up in the front window. It was too bad the angry lady had not come by the day before. Maybe there were some things from the yard sale she would like. The clothes seemed to be her size. I made two hundred bucks.  I did not want to sell ladies underwear, so all that was given to the drag performer who was making a powerful anti-Trump porn film in the basement. 

The angry lady went into the back yard. She had called the police by then, but would have called it again when she saw the residue of the pig roast. I admit, my gardening was not up to standard. 

When the police arrived, they arrested her on a charge of complaining. The constable apologized to Jim and gave him a teddy bear and a coffee shop coupon. Nobody asked about the car the angry lady left behind. 

The angry lady showed up again on Tuesday morning. She brought a posse of two fat women and one thin man. Her posse seemed to be looking for an excuse to run away. Her car was now on the front yard, on blocks. The tires were in the open back trunk, with a For Sale sign. I think the man recognized her car, but he was looking around like the men at the Ecole Polytechnique: he wanted to leave, strong women could handle this. 

When the police arrived, Jim had had enough. He came to the front door and told the police that the angry lady had called him the N-word. The cop gasped, and threw the angry lady to the ground and put her in 'cuffs. When they dragged her up, she had grass and mud stains. Her other people, the two fatties and the thin guy, had run away and drove off in their car. I never saw any of these people again. The cops though, they brought us coffee and donuts when they went off shift. 

Wednesday, Squatter Rescue! came by around noon. Another person wanted to buy out our leases and move in right away. I got two thousand dollars cash as my cut! I had fun being a squatter, and, I made a bundle of cash! I love Squatter Rescue! and you too can have a squatter weekend get away.

I helped carry out Jim's recliner chair.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care. 

* Hostage and Ransom department.