The Management is building a case against The Chef. They are trying to evict him. They are taking the stance that he is crazy and shouldn't live here anymore.
Sure, The Chef is eccentric. Sometimes he's downright profane. He's a loud alcoholic who is never afraid to express his opinions. He takes up a lot of wall space with his paintings of babies shooting laser beams out of their eyes. He occasionally disrupts art openings with his noisy, psychedelic air mattresses.
But he isn't crazy. He's not dangerous. In fact, he's an important part of our community. He drives us all nuts sometimes, but the halls are way too quiet whenever he leaves. He gets in weird power struggles with people out of boredom, but he also gets stuff done. He's the reason we have a big friendly wooden table in our kitchen instead of plastic break room-style tables. He was one of the main forces behind getting us a decent refrigerator. He's also the guy who pressed a recent investigation of some pipes in the building that turned out to be full of asbestos (and we wonder why everyone is sick all the time...). He's a little rough around the edges and will tell people he doesn't like to f@#$ off. But he's got a very kind, generous spirit underneath the gruff exterior.
Actually, I think The Chef was my first official friend at this place. He gave me some soup in the kitchen the first night here and told me my music was beautiful (he had heard me practicing). A couple of nights later, he knocked on my door and invited himself in to drink beer out of a mug and eat cheese puffs on my couch. At the time, it was a bit awkward for me. I mean, it's not everyday that a chubby old guy comes into your room and starts crying over lost love.
But The Chef quickly became one of those people that always sides with me. He gets drunk and cheers at my shows. He's offered to design stage costumes for me (usually his vision involves fairy wings and too much glitter). He eats out a lot and keeps me updated on which pizza places have the cutest boys. He gives me pep talks in the kitchen when I'm unsure of where my life is going. And when I update my Facebook status to miscellaneous David Bowie lyrics in the middle of the night, he is always the one to complete them.
Really. If they need to get rid of somebody, they should evict the scary kid on the second floor that trashed the kitchen a few months ago. He's much more dangerous than a quirky old man who brings a three-eyed oil painting to a dance party as a date.
I also think they should get rid of Tweaked Out Elvis Costello if they are indeed trying to evict people who are a detriment to the community. He's gotten downright creepy, not to mention he's perpetually high on a whole cocktail of mysterious illegal substances. I really wish The Management would stop complaining about the artistic peace banners that The Chef flies out of his window and start cracking down on people who have closets full of "that new French diet drug."
I've always known life wasn't fair, but this whole thing is just ridiculous to watch.
Of course, The Poet isn't about to let them actually evict The Chef. He's going to go have a few words with The Management. Meanwhile, a bunch of us are going to figure out how to make banners and fly them out our windows in protest. If done correctly, it will be a bit of a "Save Ferris" moment.
And if that fails and they really do evict him, we'll just have to hide him as if he's Anne Frank.
A very loud, drunken Anne Frank. Hopefully it won't come to that.