You were, foolish enough, to trust in the neighbor, and now, he’s, screwed you over, and, there’s, nothing you can do about it, translated…
Mr. Willy is a Romantic, it’d Broken My Stereotype of Germans Being Strict, Uptight, and Very Private………
The New Neighbor, with Endless Stories to Tell
Mr. Willy is an unknown, without a clear last name, and yet, one day, he’d, moved into the neighborhood, and became my neighbor. Mr. Willy is energetic everyday, he’d always turned the music to full-blast on his small radio, and, started renovating his property, pried up the wooden floor boards, and replaced them with tiles, cleared off the floors of the bathrooms, the kitchens too, and the newly plastered on wallpaper had the capital cities of the world on it, he said, that this meant he was open to the world. I’d only known him just six months, and, his apartment continued to look like a construction site, with the renovations continuing.
Mr. Willy is passionate and romantic, and it’d, broken my beliefs about how Germans should be, uptight, kept to themselves, and cared a whole lot about privacy, for a middle aged man who’s heavyset, he’d had a pair of beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that would make David Bowie envious, and his voice, sharp, with a crack. He’d told me he was in the process of divorcing his wife, but was already, kicked out of their apartment already; had an extramarital affair, a bastard child, but, the affair, and the bastard he had, had nothing to do with why his wife kicked him out. Reason why his marriage failed had to do with how he has an unsettled heart, it’d made his wife feel insecure. He doesn’t blame his wife, she was once beautiful, and married over from Sweden to him in German, and mother four of his children.
Mr. Willy is a man who cared a lot about his home fronts, to prove that he is a good father, he’d bought each of his three adult children apartments, and bought his favorite youngest, Emily, a pony; what’s most moving was, as his son was diagnosed as having a congenital kidney condition, he’d, donated a kidney immediately, and, as he’d told me, he was, pulling up his shirt, showing me the scar, but unfortunately, I couldn’t, find it, in the midst of the folds of his skin. He said, in a few years, after his youngest son entered into college, he shall move to a Sweden, to help his ex wife run a ranch with her, and, that Emily, who’s fluent in Swedish, can act as his translator.
Mr. Willy is really forceful, before his body turned, he was once, a very talented soccer player, but he sustained an injury, and stopped playing, and turned into a weightlifting competitor. And yet, once, he’d used too much force, his belly popped open, his intestines came out of his belly button, and since that war with his own intestines, he’d not had anything, or any luck with any sports.
Do I Splash Paint All Over Him
Now, Mr. Willy is a self-proclaimed carpenter, with his own company. In order to become more neighborly, and prove that he’s excellent at his craft, he’d become, the handyman of the apartment complex unwillingly, climbed up that ladder out of breath, fixed up the curtains that’s been broken for a long time at my place. Compared to the pricy handyman whom I’d had to make the appointment for, he’d told me, just give him some money, in any sum, he’d wanted to save it, to buy Emily her birthday present.
Because his putting himself on a pedestal, and his low pricing, I’d started to ask him to help me assemble my kitchen from the move, the lifting of the furniture, and painting of my place. Mr. Willy, who’d taken on the tasks had first, installed the cabinets, but busted the outlet; although the lightbulb worked, the nails fell out of the lamps; and more importantly, the kitchen of my new place, never got done getting painted, it’s just, that every couple of days, as he came for the workfares, he’d smiled brightly, and promised, that he’ll work all night long, to catch up on the progress.
Because he’d kept missing the deadlines, and became harder and harder to find, as the time came for the apartment to be handed over, I can only, do everything myself. Once I’d bumped into the youngest daughter of Mr. Willy, she said she’d not known where her dad went, I’d asked the child if Swedish was difficult to learn? She said she didn’t know a word of it, that her mother was a German, born in Germany. Ever since, I’d, stopped carrying hope towards Mr. Willy.
Until the day I was to hand over the house, Mr. Willy still never finished painting it, id quickly found all of my unlucky friends to help me out. At which time, Mr. Willy finally showed, with a sharpened tone of voice, his Rockstar eyeline, like a star, making his entrance, with a box inside his arms, said it was his own private paint formula, and it can help reduce the amount of work, he seemed, to have, missed the anger flashing from our eyes. In the end, he’d even had the nerves of stating, that he should charge us at a ninety euro baseline, for hiring a master like him, so, I’d still owed him the money.
instead you got this…not my photo still…
I’d fought with myself, really hard, on whether or not I should, pour paint all over him, in the end, I’d simply just, kicked him out of my house. I was the one, foolish enough, to believe, that a man, whose intestines came out of his belly button.
A few days after I moved, I’d received two simultaneous “gifts”, one, the bill of my former landlord, everything that Mr. Willy had, “fixed” was all broken, and the money for the fix-up, was all on me; second, the flowers from Mr. Willy, he said he was just helping the new neighbors move in, back then, he was, smiling, radiantly.
So, this, is what a BAD neighbor looked like, he’d NOT only helped this woman, he’d made even MORE mess for her afterwards, but, he did, have a ton of interesting stories to tell, and, whether or not the stories were true of false, nobody knows, but, it’s probably, all lies.