Accomplice to Serial Killing

When I moved into this apartment complex, I didn't know they were planning to make it a gated community.  The nice thing about this arrangement is that when a serial killer gets the urge to kill some people they will drive right past and do their dirty work at the apartments down the street at the end of the block.

But every once in a while a serial killer will be determined not just to kill apartment residents, but more specifically to kill apartment residents who think they are safe... and here is how he will do it.  He drives up to the gate and parks right next to the access panel.  If he lived in this complex he would have in his car with him a drivers~license~sized card containing an electronic device which, when held up to the panel, will activate the gate and cause it to open.  But because the serial killer is just a visitor he has no such card and simply parks his car there and waits.  Eventually some actual resident will drive up behind the killer's automobile and wait patiently... assuming the killer is a resident who just needs a moment to find his access card.  This would be annoying to the resident most likely... because if you live here.. you have to use that card every day and so wouldn't you, a rational person, be mindful not to misplace an item so integral to your return home?  The actual resident will pretty quickly make a new assumption... perhaps the killer is not a resident but a visitor... perhaps he has just dialed a code and someone already home in their apartment is going to answer their phone and press the number 9 thereby activating the gate... but several more moments elapse... finally the actual resident realizes that whoever is supposed to be granting admittance to the killer must be in the shower or not even home.  By this time four or five cars have lined up behind the killer's car... so many cars in fact that they are now lining up out on the street and backing up traffic for the folks that just want to drive on down to the end of the block and return to their easy to access but woefully dangerous ungated community just down the road.

Then the actual resident parked just behind the killer has to make a decision... he doesn't know who this killer is... what if he's a dangerous sort?  What if he's obsessed with an ex~girlfriend and wants to smash in the windows on her car?  What if he's a sick pervert who wants to urinate in the swimming pool?  What if he's a poacher come to deprive the pond of its delicate swans?

But in the end... who cares?  It's not like the actual resident can turn around or back up and go another way, is it?  I mean by this time there is a continental drift of traffic jammed up in both directions behind him... so he does what he really knows he should have done three or for minutes earlier... he gets out of his car and walks up next to the killer's card and without any salutation whatsoever he reaches his card out in front of the access panel and the gate begins its arthritic opening sequence.

And everyone is happy... you know... except obviously the eventual victims... but that was bound to happen anyway sooner or later.

For the most part everyone loves living in a safe and protected environment.

Then one time last summer I had a friend come visit me from back east.  We had a great time climbing mountains and taking pictures and singing and playing darts... it was the beginning of July when she left and it was then I realized that... what with all the tons of fun we'd been having... I had forgot to pay the rent... so I hurried into the office check in hand only to be told that after the 2nd of the month checks were not permitted but only a money order totaling the month's rent plus $50 for being late.  I argued my case but the lady in charge was in full~militant~if~you~think~you~can~charm~me~because~I'm~a~woman~I~will~ castrate~you~with~an~automatic~pencil~sharpener~mode.  So meekly I left the office bummed out about the damned inconvenience and fiscal penalty.

Next day I went to the bank and purchased the money order and returned to the office, but because now another day had expired they needed an additional $5.  "I didn't know about this" I pleaded "or I would have taken care of it yesterday."  But the lady in charge, whose name must have been Harold or Chester, was not to be assuaged.  Finally I saw there was no compromise to be negotiated and I pulled out a five dollar bill to consummate the violation of myself, but the lady with her Herculean femininity was not interested.  No, I had to return once more to the bank and procure yet another money order... this time in the amount of $5.  No cash, no check, no gold bullion would suffice... a money order or an eviction... that was my choice. 

Yes, I thought about moving out.  Had nowhere to go, it's true, but surely living homeless on the street would be better than submitting to this power hungry lady who made Hulk Hogan look like a Barbie Doll.

But in the end I took my punishment as much like a man as I could while cowering and whimpering in her Paul Bunyanesque shadow.

The only revenge I exacted, I admit, was a bit immature.  But that night from 10pm until 4am I stood by the access panel with my access card in front of the gate and admitted dozens and dozens of serial killers as soon as they drove up.  They're a shy lot about their chosen professions, I learned.  Not more than three in 20 will even admit to having ever murdered anyone.