Countdown to Move In Day

While we’ve been posting on this thing now since apparently 2005 (how the hell did that happen?), I thought it might be good to go right back to the beginning. How did these four unlikely individuals come to live in the 231 and begin this string of adventures with each other, friends, hangers on, and affiliated scum? Furthermore, where did this Thirsty guy come from? I’d like 5 minutes alone with the guy who thought that was a good idea!

Five months before. Still reeling from the effects of the ill considered dorm room ‘Rum and Coke’ party, the three of us, Knaus, Psycho and I began to plot our escape. For the unfamiliar, uninitiated, or highly forgetful, the fact should be addressed that a large list of names put forth generally refers to the same 4 individuals. I have been colloquially known as ‘Wolf’, ‘Pistacio’, and ‘Dark Pistacio’, for reasons forthcoming. Paul was known as ‘Knaus’, ‘Stanislaus Skinflint’, ‘Mouse’, and the self given ‘Malfeus’. Jason was affectionately known as ‘Thirsty Puddles’, ‘Thirsty’, ‘Smelly’, ‘Stinky’, or whatever else came to Mooney’s mind at the moment. Aaron rounded out the pack with the most original collection, including ‘Psycho’, ‘Scooter’ and for one glorious month in the spring of ’92, ‘Brownie Buttfuck’. I suggest printing this page for reference.

We had just seen the ‘Spewey’ episode of the Chris Elliot classic, Get a Life on the Sunday night lineup, and waxed poetic about the sweet deal he had having a house large enough to accommodate a disgusting visiting alien. It had also been on our minds that in a few short months, the coming of summer would bring to an end our ever more bold adventures until the fall; an idea depressing in its finality. Aaron had an added incentive to wish for better accommodations as his family relocated out west and rather than make the never ending bus voyage out there again, opted for the slightly less heinous option of staying in
Dan Mooney’s basement. We thought him mad, but kept silent. Knaus, ever taciturn, said he’d look into it.

Four months before. Knaus had looked into nothing, prompting Aaron and I to take the lead. Having barely begun to master such complex arts as doing the laundry, we knew it was time to bring in a consultant. Someone who though life’s little cruelties eschewed the college path and worked for a living. We called Dave, who jumped at the chance. Within seconds, Dave managed to open the paper to the classified section that listed places to rent while simultaneously sticking a fork into Aaron’s neck. Who knew such a wealth of knowledge existed so few pages from the comics? That it would be a house was never a question, but to our dismay, the price range was out of budget. We needed a fourth and thus housemate quest began.

Dave was an obvious candidate, given that he worked, had his own transportation and knew how to do things such as rent a house and change light bulbs. With regret he declined being presently shackled to the mortgage on his mothers place. Dan expressed no interest being so highly invested in the sweet free room and board deal he had with his mom. Even her banishing him to the basement never bent his will in the least. Matt was an early front runner, this being in the day when he openly declared his virginity, his religion and his penchant for the sweet dulcet sounds of WJYE. By semesters end, however, our corruptive influence had taken a heavy toll on his once cheerful demeanor, scaring it forever more. To enter the den of such beasts as ourselves would undoubtedly end him and he withdrew in cowardice.

Three months before. We were in desperate straits. No willing house mate was forthcoming. We had found a place we liked on Comstock, but could not afford the hefty $700 per month with just 3 of us. It seemed apparent that we would be relegated back to the dorms for yet another year. Even that option, however, was soon removed. In an act mimicking divine fate, we found ourselves in a situation wherein the toilet between our suites had been blown to smithereens and we were no longer welcome in the UB housing system thereafter. Hopeless and helpless were we.

A new hope. Our new hope came in least attractive of forms. I was glumly making subs on one of the last semester evenings at Putnam’s when I noticed a distinctive mop of greasy blond hair come forth from the crowd toward me. It was Jason, who despite the common belief that he is a relative of mine, is actually my fathers aunt’s husband’s brother’s nephew. No blood relation and separated by two degrees of marital in-lawmanship. Nevertheless, we had met previously as my mother was close to the aunt he was staying with in Buffalo. As luck would have it, the aunt was looking to unload Jason from her domicile at the earliest convenience and had heard from my mother my own predicament. Jason was sent forth on a quest to find me and convince me, or not come back at all. Desperation breeds strange bedfellows, and this was no exception. Like a bevy of intrepid golfers, we had our fourth.

One month before. It was no small miracle, but we somehow managed to sign a lease and secure a move in date – Saturday, August 1st, 1992. The long summer wait was on as each of us spent the time before in relative isolation from each other. I did talk to Knaus occasionally and during one such talk the issue of bedrooms came up. The house came equipped with four bedrooms, and all things being equal, these rooms were the exception. The master bedroom was on the second floor on the front of the house overlooking the front porch roof. It had a large walk in closet, the largest radiator, and for some reason, no electrical outlets. The second floor had a second master bedroom, this one at the rear and was resplendent with a large closet, new coat of paint and a handcuff ring screwed securely into the wall above the bed. On the lower level, in the rear were two small poorly lit rooms originally intended no doubt for servants, misbehaving children or disfavored guests. Integrity told us that the fair way to divvy up the real estate was to draw random lots with all present, but Knaus and I turned a deaf ear. As we were in agreement that I preferred the front room and he the rear, we formally announced that a fair contest was held and those were the results. How this went unquestioned and even unchallenged I’ll never know.

Moving day, August 1st. Communication between the four of us increased in frequency as the day approached. Jason had made special arrangements with Don Kobol, our landlord, to move in a few days prior to avoid homelessness. Don graciously allowed it and bestowed upon Jason custodianship of the keys for each of us. Aaron would move in a few days later due to reasons that now escape me. As the place had no phone service just yet, the plan was to pack up the first carload and hope to catch Jason at home. My father, Dave and I packed up his old Caprice Classic full of my treasures and headed over. Pulling into the driveway, we were greeted by the presence of Knaus, holding a piece of paper, with a very rare dumbfounded look on his face. “Hey guys, welcome to the house! I went to NYC for the long weekend, but I left your keys on the kitchen table so you can move it. See you Tuesday! Jason.” Boosting Dave up to the kitchen window, it was confirmed that the small pile of silver keys shown brightly on the table. The side door was indeed locked, as was the front.

While it was briefly discussed that we should make a road trip to NYC to hunt down Jason and beat him senselessly, it was instead decided to go ahead and break into the place and settle up with him later. We set to work at different entrances. My father and I set to work dismantling the window frame to the room that would be Jason’s. I have no doubt that this action would result in the dislodged piece of metal that would tear open Jason’s pants a year and a half later. Dave set to work with a dull glass cutter on the window to the side door. Knaus, ever resourceful and determined, attacked the latch on the basement window with savage precision. It should be noted that Knaus never once failed to gain entry in any instance where there was an effort made to keep him out. As predicted, he achieved success first. In a flash he was though the window into the dark dank basement. After some crashing about, a painful scream, liberal cursing and a long silence, Knaus opened the side door.

We stepped inside, the oppressive August heat bringing forth the pungent aroma of must and mildew baked into the antiquated furniture and smoke stained curtains. Here in a neighborhood where a concentrated effort by strangers to forcibly gain entrance into a domicile failed to raise an eyebrow, we found our freedom.

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3 Responses

  1. The reason I moved in a few days after everyone else, and the reason that escapes Wolf, is that he told me a move in date that was after he and Knaus divvied up the good rooms. Bastards!

  2. What is the deal with the fork in Aaron’s neck?

  3. Until this time the only thing I had hear about Dave was that he was a fanatic of the band RUSH. So when I entered the room and learned this was “the” Dave, I had to clear the air immediately by emphatically stating, “RUSH sucks!” Upon which Dave jumped me and stuck the fork in my neck. FYI, I had never listened to any RUSH music at the time, and I certainly have not since.

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