My first place..
..when I moved out of home, at the ripe-old age of 16, was a really nice 3-bedroom brick house... built behind a fucking nightclub!
The reason behind my living there, besides being desparate to get out of home, was that my landlord was a woman with whom I had worked, who had just bought a pizza shop built underneath the club. The understanding was that I would pretty much have free reign of the house, though from time to time her two kids, aged 10 and 13, might be in there after school watching TV or whatever. This was fine, as I knew the family fairly well, didn't have anything worth stealing, and would generally be working at that time.
It all went down-hill when the business started to fail. My landlord started drinking a lot and smoking too much weed (and for a 16 year old to think that she was drinking and smoking too much, you KNOW it was a lot) and she and her partner started leaving the kids in the house to go gamble at the local pub.
Oh, then they lost their house and moved in with me. That was kind of the end of it.. I still liked the guys, and I knew they were doing it rough, so I didn't want to take away their main source of income - my $70 a week rent - but after a couple of weeks of that, a flat next door to the pub I worked at opened up and I fucking jumped at it. The worst part was taking all my furniture, and leaving this family royally fucked.
They went broke not long after and skipped town, oweing a lot of people money. I stayed at my new flat for a good three years, before moving to Canada, and became lord of the parties for 16-21 year olds.
(r0ach, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 22:16, Reply)