I moved into the ground floor apartment at 77 Laxton with Al one floor above me and his son Mark one floor above Al; without incident.

After a few days, fears of running into Al faded into the distant foggy memories of past experiences.

I settled into a routine of shift work and Candice once or twice a week. She had a weird habit of calculating dollar value whenever we had sex. After she shared this tally with me the third or fourth time, I asked.

“So, you want this to be a hooker/john type relationship?” Then, the Candy experiences faded with Al into the mists of the past. Mark shared more Al stories with me, but I never saw much of either of them after that. I was asleep when I heard Al’s voice coming through my ceiling.

“I brought you into this world, and I can take you out! I will rip your throat out with my bare teeth!”

He repeated this a dozen times before I got up, dressed, went out my door, climbed the stairs, and kicked open Al’s front door.

Al slowly turned to face me. He was barely able to stand. Red faced in his underwear, drunk, and raged. He was holding a quart bottle of half consumed spirits. I walked towards him slowly, wagging my finger towards him and yelling. I stopped when I was right in his face.

“Al! If you don’t shut the fuck up and let me sleep I’m going to rip out your throat with my bare teeth… do you understand me Al?

Al’s eyes began to water. His arms shot out in an attempt to give me a hug. I stepped aside.

Finally, he said, ‘Dennis! Where you been?’

I burst out laughing and left. In that moment, Maltese Al was the loneliest man I had ever seen. I saw the price he’d paid for being a narcissistic abusive bullying cunt…

I moved somewhere soon after. I can’t remember the details. Wherever it was, it wasn’t with Maltese Al.

Dennis Mantin