Sketchbook and Suburban Tales

Don't Go on Craigslist

Okay, so a couple of years ago my family purchased an RV for about $5,000. It was ancient like it was a 1989 model, ancient. The thing worked like a charm but the inside was absolutely FILLED with all these cigarette burns, water damage, broken appliances and torn-up flooring.

Now, my parents aren't rich by any means. I like to think of us as being in the lower-lower middle class, even though that's just hopeful thinking. We're always looking for a deal.

(I know a few of you are like, "WTF? If you're so poor, why the hell did you buy an RV!" Well, if you read the entire description, I have eight people in my family. We all live in this 3-bedroom house in a neighborhood so remote that it takes me almost an hour and a half on the bus to get to school every day.

My dad's a prepper. And when I say prepper, I mean he legitimately believes that the world will end sometime soon. Despite that he has to work 40+ hours a week just to keep us living comfortably, he still finds enough money to hide away to buy all his prepper gear. Now, since our house is so small, we had to change the home's office into a nursery for the twins, leaving him with no place to work.

He found the RV on the local yard sale site and bought it before my mom could even tell him no. My dad had already reasoned to my mom that it would supply him with a quiet work environment and something to escape in when the world ends. So, we kept the damn thing.)

Any-who.

My dad found this guy on Craigslist called Ashley, who was a retired mechanic and handyman. The man had been out of work for awhile and had posted his resume on Craigslist in hopes of being contracted for a quick job.

My dad called up Ashley and they agreed for him to come check out the RV to see what he could do. Now, this happened around spring break, so I was out of school for the week. The day that Ashley and my dad had agreed on for them to talk, the rest of my family (aside from Mollie-Dog and myself) were over at my Mimi's for the day.

When Ashley came over at around noon-ish, I was the one to answer the door.

A man, no taller than 5'4 and no older than 40 stood there. He had an overgrown goatee that looked like it hadn't been trimmed in weeks. His cheeks were peppered with a 5'oclock shadow stubble. Even his skin was weird. He was grotesquely skinny, literally nothing but skin and bones. He also had these red sores, some scabbing over, others looking ready to burst. I've heard of adult acne and everything, but these things weren't acne at all.

I didn't know what they were.

"Hey kid, where's your dad? I'm the dude to work on your RV." he grunted, setting down an oversized toolbox.

"DAD!" I shouted, waking up Mollie-Dog

Mollie-Dog, is -Well, my dog. She's a huge beast of a dog, with excess skin, bulging muscles, and sharp teeth. Mollie-Dog is a Great Dane and Neapolitan Mastiff mix -bred to be a guard dog. But, she's too nice. She's a gentle giant, who loves everyone she meets and wouldn't hurt a fly.

Mollie-Dog growled.

She ran over to me, forcing me behind her, growling again at Ashley. I grabbed Mollie-Dog by her collar, pulling back all 200 pounds of her.

"Down!" bellowed my dad, appearing from around the hallway corner.

Mollie-Dog obeyed, sitting herself down on the floor, her black eyes never leaving Ashley. I could hear Ashley exhale heavily like he was sighing in relief.

"Hey! You must be Ashley!" my dad smiled, pushing Mollie-Dog out of his way. My dad stuck out his hand, expecting Ashley to take it.

He didn't.

My dad drew back his hand awkwardly.

"My wife's eight months pregnant, and I don't want to leave her alone for too long. Can we please hurry?" Ashely asked, his lips not moving.

"Sure..." my dad drawled, "Come on in.." My dad opened the door wider, letting Ashley in. The man picked up his toolbox and walked in without another word.

My dad directed Ashley through our messy den and out our back door to the yard. Ashley stumbled clumsily dodging the furniture and plants thrown around the room. He seemed to be having trouble moving his left leg like he had nerve damage or something.

My dad opened the back door, letting him into the backyard. Ashley tripped on the drop between the floor of the living room and the concrete of the porch, almost falling onto my dad if it wasn't for the door frame he grabbed onto.

"A bit clumsy, aren't you?" my dad joked, trying to be a comedic host. All Ashley answered with was a death glare. Both my dad and I cringed away.

It wasn't one of the normal death glares you get from friends or siblings when you annoy them. His stare had actual bloodlust.

The intention to kill.

=========================

I didn't expect this story to be so long. I'll have a make a part two. Just so you guys know, this really did happen to me. And this isn't even the beginning of the actual terror.