Ah, Landlord!

Ah, Landlord! You are most benevolent, a benevolence which has not been seen before and shall never be seen again. A man of high morals who some say has the scent of stale cheese, but to them I say that scent may be the odor of the dead mice which you refused to exterminate from the boiler room and they should hold their tongues what speak against you.

Ah, Landlord! Remember the time the pipe burst and everything flooded? And no one could even leave the parking lot nor would dare to for fear of drowning in the surging water? How humorous you were as you sailed away on your yacht, throwing pennies at us humble tenants and promising to send reinforcements as soon as you reached Bermuda with the security money. As I ate my soggy Twinkies for supper I chortled heartily at your optimistically sarcastic view, realizing all the while that I would not be able to get to the market for more food, even with the pennies for they would not float and even if they could would not hold my weight.

Mrs. Rafferty drowned in that flood and still you were kind enough to allow her family to keep the water damaged couch even though that insufferable old woman owed you five dollars for shorting the previous month’s rent! Damn her insolence! So self-involved was she, what with being ninety-five years old and in a wheelchair and on limited Social Security, that she never realized that your numerous vacations had nothing to do with the failure to maintain decent plumbing!

Ah, Landlord! Your leases are sheer art! Some have called them "Draconian," but I call them "literary." They say you are a philistine but I know different; it is the extremely mercenary which is your art and this unbridled creativity manifests itself on the many pages of your labyrinth contracts! Allow me, dear Landlord, to site "Codicil 20, Section A" from page 92: "Thou shalt carpet thine apartment at a rate of 80% which shall be strictly enforced, unless I don’t feel like leaving my desk to enforce it." You pointed this out to me when I, humble tenant, skulked down to your office to complain that either a herd of elephants or perhaps an Arthur Murray Dance School had taken up residence in the apartment above me. You made it clear that you hated to be interrupted in the midst of eating a pastrami sandwich and that I ought never to bother you again with such trifling matters. It was I, dear Landlord, not you, who should have realized the depths of my vanity in making such a request and for this I apologize and shall happily pay the "five-percent annoyance charge" which you assessed on my most recent payment of rent.

Ah, Landlord! Your seersucker suit and patent leather shoes glow in the sunshine as you pick the bugs from your moustache. Enjoy your trip to Antigua; we gladly await your return. Now please untie me.