Ahai!, as they say here in Indonesia instead of Aha. Peter the complaining Dutchman, having suffered a resounding defeat in the complex-wide vote to determine whether Takut the dog is a problem, has taken his toys and moved out. So long, sucker.
It's a strange thing, really. It was I who originally brought Peter here. I guess that says something about my judge of character. I had only the same morning met him, and he seemed, at that time, a pleasant and kindly fellow. Little did I know that he would soon gain a reputation of complaining about EVERYTHING! OMG. Nor, moreover, that, behind my back, he would complain about me.
Peter is an Iago sort--on the surface ingratiating, friendly, helpful, while underneath it all plotting and manipulating. Creepy.
For example, when Peter first came here, he pretended to like the dog, or at least to have no problem with the dog. But behind the scenes, he began to leaves hints. He would tell a resident, for instance, that the dog threatened to bite him. I noted for some time that the dog's water dish kept ending up outside in the parking bay. 'Oh, I brought it out there so that he wouldn't be thirsty,' Peter cooed, regardless of the fact that the dog is 'in here' and not 'out there'.
I can't help but be reminded of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas ...
But do you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick, that he thought up a lie and thought it up quick.
" ... there's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear. I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here."
Or of Dickens' oh so 'umble Uriah Heep.
"But oh, what a clammy hand his was! as ghostly to the touch as to the sight! I rubbed mine afterwards, to warm it, AND TO RUB HIS OFF."
How does it happen that a man grows to be 68 years of age and still acts like a conniving child? Has this worked for him in life? I think not. I am aware, for instance, that he left his last apartment complex as well because nothing was right with it or with the people there (according to Peter). I noted, as he moved, that he has one small suitcase, a propane gas container, and a bicycle. Clearly, he lives ever ready to move.
I wonder if it will ever occur to Peter that there may be a problem not with places, not with people, not with dogs--but with him.
It's a strange thing, really. It was I who originally brought Peter here. I guess that says something about my judge of character. I had only the same morning met him, and he seemed, at that time, a pleasant and kindly fellow. Little did I know that he would soon gain a reputation of complaining about EVERYTHING! OMG. Nor, moreover, that, behind my back, he would complain about me.
Peter is an Iago sort--on the surface ingratiating, friendly, helpful, while underneath it all plotting and manipulating. Creepy.
For example, when Peter first came here, he pretended to like the dog, or at least to have no problem with the dog. But behind the scenes, he began to leaves hints. He would tell a resident, for instance, that the dog threatened to bite him. I noted for some time that the dog's water dish kept ending up outside in the parking bay. 'Oh, I brought it out there so that he wouldn't be thirsty,' Peter cooed, regardless of the fact that the dog is 'in here' and not 'out there'.
I can't help but be reminded of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas ...
But do you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick, that he thought up a lie and thought it up quick.
" ... there's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear. I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here."
Or of Dickens' oh so 'umble Uriah Heep.
"But oh, what a clammy hand his was! as ghostly to the touch as to the sight! I rubbed mine afterwards, to warm it, AND TO RUB HIS OFF."
How does it happen that a man grows to be 68 years of age and still acts like a conniving child? Has this worked for him in life? I think not. I am aware, for instance, that he left his last apartment complex as well because nothing was right with it or with the people there (according to Peter). I noted, as he moved, that he has one small suitcase, a propane gas container, and a bicycle. Clearly, he lives ever ready to move.
I wonder if it will ever occur to Peter that there may be a problem not with places, not with people, not with dogs--but with him.
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