He kept talking about the ‘people’ watching the house over the next few days and our conversations became increasingly uncomfortable. I decided I was going to ask him to leave my home, so I invited a mutual friend over to witness the conversation.
Our mutual friend Joseph sat in the room with Pea Weasel and I.
“I know that you robbed me, and I would like to have my stuff back.”
“I didn’t take your things dude.”
A moment of silence filled the air as I stared at him.
“I didn’t take your things, but I did find your stuff.” He said abruptly.
“… you found the things that were stolen from me?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are they?”
“They are upstairs in the attic.”
“Ok.” I took a deep breath as rage coursed through my veins. Joseph looked at Pea Weasel as I left the room to grab my ladder from the garage before carrying it upstairs.
Once upstairs I removed all of the clothes from the closet and disassembled the rack. It was a task that took about 15 minutes to complete. I set up the ladder and poked my head inside. Fire burned inside my heart as I found all of my belongings resting on the fiberglass. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I growled.
I composed myself and went back downstairs. Sitting down across from him I felt my fury fill every word in my mind. This was a man I had known since I was a child. I loved him like blood, invited him to live in my home, and now this?
“When did you find my stuff?” I sternly asked.
“I found it last night.”
“Why didn’t you tell me last night?”
“I didn’t want you to think I stole it.”
“So instead you wanted to put me through more suffering? How did it end up in the attic?”
“The people who robbed you must have stashed it up there before they left.”
“So let me get this straight. A well-organized group of burglars with night vision goggles staked out my house for days to memorize when we weren’t home. They did all of this so they could break into my home, smash up my house, and then leave all of my valuables in the attic so they could return when my alert was on high to retrieve it?”
“I don’t know what to say dude, it is the only thing that makes sense.”
“And this well-organized group of criminals wanted to risk their Big Heist by sneaking back into my locked garage to steal a handful of Medicine?”
He remained silent.
“Does that make any sense to you?” I asked.
“I don’t know what to tell you, it’s the only thing that makes any sense.” He repeated himself.
“I will tell you what makes sense. You have been stealing my medicine and when I got tired of it I started locking it in a safe. That pissed you off, so you decided to smash it open and steal my shit and in your childish fit of rage you destroyed my house.”
He shook his head.
“Then after your rage settled you knew you needed a way out, so you made it look like someone robbed me.”
“It’s not how it happened.”
“Then tell me, please tell me how it happened.”
“It’s not how it happened.”
“Give me something, give me something I can believe. Please god give me something that I can believe.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Ok, get out. Joseph will you help him collect his belongings. You can come back for your kayaks in the garage, but we are done.”
Joseph helped him collect his things and he took Pea Weasel on his merry way. Later when I went up to his room I discovered it was an absolute wreck. It took so much money and time to repair the damage he caused to that space that it was like icing on the cake.
Clearly his name is not Pea Weasel, but there is no gain from sharing his name. The reason I refer to him with such a silly way is because in addition to the damage he dealt to the bedroom, and the things he stole, I learned he was the poor man’s version of Howard Hughes. Within his closet were dozens of bottles filled with his own urine. I felt the name makes the most sense, and it was a great way to add levity to an otherwise lackluster life event.
Many of my friends wanted to hurt him for the terrible things he did, but I told them there is no gain from bringing him any more hurt than he has already dished out for himself. The best I believe we can hope for him, and the people like him is to pray that one day he realizes how horrible he has been and tries to atone for the hurt he has caused. We all make mistakes, and I believe everyone deserves a redemption story. He will never again walk by my side, but maybe one day he can walk with a divine light and learn how to shine goodness on the lives around him.
