TO THE FORMER RESIDENT OF WILLOW WAY 86:

Every year, around the end of July, I look at a couple hundred empty apartments. People leave furniture, trash, food, holes in the walls, holes in the carpet, etc. It happens. I understand. They’re moving out, so they don’t care about the place anymore.

However, your apartment was quite a surprise. It wasn’t that you ripped up all your bedroom carpet. It wasn’t that you knocked a human-sized hole in your closet (I’m assuming you used the hole as an extra doorway into the living room. Crafty, really). What shocked me was the deer head. The severed deer head (a doe, I think) that took up the majority of your refrigerator. I almost didn’t open your fridge. I mean, there was blood pooled across the kitchen floor, but I couldn’t stop myself. I opened it and there it was, pulpy mess with maggots crawling out the eyes and mouth.

And let’s be honest. I puked in the sink. Of course, you’re going to have to pay for all the damages. The mess, the walls, the floor, cleaning the refrigerator and having someone scrub my vomit out of the sink. You’ll receive a separate letter from Willow Way regarding those charges. This letter isn’t from the office. In fact, as of recent, I am in no way affiliated with Willow Way. After some business regarding a resident’s stolen furniture and Xanax prescription, I thought it best to resign.

I just wanted you to know every time you came into the office we were sickened by you. The way your grey, frazzled hair fell onto the desk, the cigarette smell, your missing teeth, and the subsequent drool. Do you have any idea how inappropriate it is to pull your shoes off while you’re in a place of business? I don’t care how much your ingrown toenail hurts or that the pus is leaking into your shoe. I thought of quitting every time I saw you approach the office door. I held the phone up to my ear and pretended to be discussing apartment prices so you wouldn’t linger.

I just wanted you to know all that. And that leaving a deer head in a refrigerator with no electricity is one of the worst things I have ever seen. And that I’m the one that bashed the shit out of your Mustang. I used the tire iron I found in your garage.

Sincerely,

Brandi Wells

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