Suing Louise

In the late evening of July 4th, 1987, Dana and Bill and I left Poor Paul's Pourhouse in Dana's white Mazda coupe and visited many of our friends in the area throughout the evening until we ran out of fireworks. We didn't stop at any homes without cars parked outside and we didn't knock. We announced our presence with fireworks until our friends greeted us, or as in some cases, vehemently cursed at us to leave. The loudest would receive additional visits from us later.

I especially remember our three visits to brothers Ralph and Mark off Cactus Drive. They lived in a house near the end of a secluded woodsy court and had two big television consoles that took up a good portion of their living room, even though they were stacked upon one another. The picture tube worked on one and the sound worked on the other one.

I worked with Ralph, who sold his 1975 Ford LTD to me for parts for $75. It barely ran and the tires leaked air -- he had to stop a couple of times to refill the tires on his way to my house. The car immediately paid for itself when I removed its power steering pump to replace the leaking pump on my own 1975 LTD, and the spare car would eventually be left behind when I moved away from my house on Harold Court after the bank foreclosed on my landlords.

The first time we went to Ralph's and Mark's house and lit off fireworks, we all hung out and talked for a while before we told them we had others to visit and left. By the time we returned after lighting fireworks at other people's houses, it was quite a bit later, but we weren't paying attention to the time. Like many people do, we saved our bigger and better fireworks for later on, which had the effect of escalating our appearance to homes to which we had already been. We stayed in the car on our second visit to Ralph and just tossed non-flying M80-type firecrackers on their front doorstep until the door opened and we heard a loud expletive from Mark, who then slammed the door.

We went past Louise's house between visits to Ralph, and afterwards. Louise used to be Bill's landlord when Bill lived next to her house. Bill didn't like her, or her numerous poodles she raised and kept inside her white picket fence, and every time we drove by, our presence stirred up the dogs, which seemed to number 30 or 40. In actuality, there were likely only several poodles, but they were loud, and by our second visit, Louise also emerged to holler at us. By our final visit shortly before sunup, we only drove nearby and the dogs began barking again.

I will never forget seeing Mark through the Mazda's rear window after our third and loudest visit at 4:30 am chasing after our car for two blocks on foot wielding and waving a nine iron and yelling at us. I know it was a nine iron because moments before, I had noticed it resting on the railing of their front porch as I quietly lit what probably either should have had a longer fuse, or a more distinctive warning label. I was still nearby when it went off, and have some sympathy as to what made Mark so mad at that time of "day." A few months later, Ralph and Mark graduated from Florida State University and moved to South Florida, and we never saw each other again.

I didn't realize Louise would be my next landlord until in mid-June 1990, when I saw an advertisement for $150 monthly rent in the Tallahassee Democrat newspaper and showed up to her house with Dave the Cat and most of my belongings and $200 deposit, including a $50 non-refundable pet deposit, which she had specified to me in my phone conversation with her before I arrived. My apartment included a tiny bathroom and consisted of a third part of the house that had been walled away from the rest of the house, and the other two-thirds was rented to two of Louise's friends. It was SMALL, and had a twin bed, table, chair and a window with an air conditioner in it, and I lived there only six weeks.

Two weeks after I moved in, I returned from work one evening and Dave was nowhere to be found. The window and air conditioner were intact so I concluded that only Louise could have let Dave out. I walked over to her house and knocked on the door, which she answered while pointing a semi-automatic pistol at me, and I asked her where my cat was. She hissed, "I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD A CAT. My other tenants complained about noise in your apartment, so I visited WITH THIS GUN and knocked, but you weren't home, and when I opened the door, A CAT ran out." I protested, saying that I had paid her a PET DEPOSIT as we had agreed upon, and I was worried about my missing cat. She again denied ever allowing me to keep a pet in the apartment. I disgustedly left her door without saying anything else and returned to my apartment and Dave was waiting for me outside.

That same evening, I typed up my notice to leave at the end of the next month and asked for my $150 deposit back, and sent it certified mail the next day a block away to Louise's house. She never accepted the letter and it was returned and forwarded to me several weeks later. After I moved out at the end of July, I called Louise and reminded her that I had sent her notice of my departure and I wanted my $150 deposit back, and she refused to give it to me.

I went downtown and paid $50 and filed suit against Louise in Small Claims Court, and I represented myself. My unopened certified letter with receipt from the Post Office served as key pieces of evidence and I won. Louise sent me my $150 deposit back, and I never saw her or her little dogs again.