The ghost of misplaced trash

Sunday, Apr. 04, 2004 @ 4:44 p.m.

There's this very creepy man that lives somewhere in my building. He's always walking around the hallways and sidewalks around the complex, picking up trash and leaves. And he's not a cleaning-type-worker either. I think he's either totally obsessive-compulsive, or he's a staunch environmentalist. But I'm more inclined to believe that people are nuts before anything else, so... yeah, he's nuts.

I guess he's harmless enough, and he does help make the place look cleaner without anyone having to pay him... so I guess that's a good thing. I usually don't pay any attention to him, other than thinking how weird he is everytime I walk past him. I walked past him today in the hallway, and since the hallway is just a straight, narrow... ummm, hallway, I couldn't avoid him like I usually do. And this time, instead of looking on the floor for trash (I guess it was clean enough already), he was looking at me. No... not looking. Staring. It was CREEPY.

So, seeing that I had no alternatives to escape, I decided to be nice and civil and gave him a typical, Los Angeles-ish, fake, obligatory "what's up?" smile-and-head-nod combo. He didn't reciprocate, but just stood there in the hallway as I walked past, all the while staring at me like a psycho. No biggie, I'd already walked past him anyway, so I was home free.

Or so I thought.

Until he blurted out after me, "Hey, are you the owner of the car parked at spot number XX?"

I stopped dead in my tracks, and turned around. This was getting way too uncomfortable. As freaked out as I was, I answered "I'm not sure, I don't know the parking spot numbers."

"Yes, I think you're number XX".

I think he got it right, but I lied anyway. "No, I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

Before I even finished that question, he'd already turned and started walking down the hallway, looking for trash on the floor, my words fallen on deaf ears. I turned back around immediately, and scurried back to my apartment like a frightened little mouse.

What a weird encounter. This is exactly the stuff you see in B-grade horror movies... and I'd supposedly find out later that he'd been dead for 10 years or something. Maybe he was this very dedicated janitor who got crushed accidentally by a trash compactor, and now he's back roaming the hallways, seeking vengence on trash.

Nah, he's just nuts.

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The ghost of misplaced trash