The use of the C word is alive and well here at The Wren Forum. And for good reason. Today, I am tired and grumpy and bitter.

The night of the verbal altercation with California Bitch, I slept very well. She was quiet. There was no noise.

And he lived happily ever after.

But not really.

Last night, at 2:15, I was woken up yet again by California Bitch’s voice. In my groggy state, I became aware that she was telling her side of the story to a friend, who was in her room with her. Something about not just tapping on her window, but banging on her window. Wailing on her window? Anyway, she sounded so pissed off, she could have passed for a urinal.

“If he does that again, I’m gonna shoot his fucking head off.”

I was wide awake now. She repeated the threat, with more vehemence.

“I’ll shoot his head off.”

A mutter from her friend sounded like tacit approval that such an action was within the boundaries of decorum.

I wonder, if I had banged on her window again the previous night, would she have met me on Goshen not with a broom, but a Smith & Wesson?

“Then he walked off and called me a bitch.”

That I did. But it was unfair for her to skew the story thus, so I got out of bed and went to my window and loudly proffered:

“After you called me a dick!”

I couldn’t exactly hear what was being said then, but it was vitriolic. She was a banshee. I climbed back into bed, hoping it would all go away.

“Faggot!”

Then she was quiet.

I couldn’t sleep. I was so fatigued, so drained, but I could not sleep. I wondered if this is the kind of thing for which one calls the police. I have no idea. I don’t know how the police work. I have no manual.

Was I just threatened even though it was indirectly, as part of a story to someone else? Did she in truth know I was gay? Did she call me a faggot just because that what childish people use as an insult? If she did know and called me that, after saying she wanted to shoot my head off, are we talking hate crime potential?

My upstairs neighbor stirred. I can hear it every time he moves around.

I imagine she would shoot my head off whether I was a faggot or not.

I sat up in bad three times. Each time, I was making a move to make a move. Call the manager of California Bitch’s building? The number was on the sign out front. Call the police? I’m sure the non-emergency number is in the yellow pages. But each time, I lay back down. I had no idea what to do. I just wanted to fall asleep.

I got into work after 9:30 today. That’s very late for me. The first thing I did was call the company that leases the building in which my tormentor resides. I had jotted down the number this morning.

I tried to tell the story without it being too long. I prepared the woman at the management company for details that might be offered up by California Bitch in her defense. I did mention I was indirectly threatened with being shot in the head, but I did not mention the faggot part. I can save that one for later.

As it stands, 11838 Goshen Ave. apartment #1 is getting a 3-day notice. Make changes or get kicked out. If anything else happens, I am to call the police.

I know I should feel good about this, but I have a feeling this is not over yet. I know people say things when they’re angry, like “I’ll kill him!” and such. But her threat was so specific, so seething, and so said more than once, I don’t know. I’m not expecting to get shot in the head, but I still feel uncomfortable. Even in the worst of situations, my behavior was not worthy of such violent posturing.

My god, what will happen tonight?