Back in the day, when Nishu lived on East 50th
Street, we had a crew of friends akin to the Outlaws of Sherwood Forest and the
Lost Boys/Lost Girls of Never Land. We were a crew that somehow managed to test
the laws of nature. While endearing and harmless in our way, there was no
question some of us were more high drama than others. One such friend was
Keeley. Yes, Keeley, she is so much so that these days we simply refer to her
as “The K Word.”
In the early 1900s, Raku Nene magic was outlawed on an
island in the South Pacific after a number of natives conjured this ultimately
destructive spirit. While Raku Nene was fun in some ways, in others he was hell
on wheels. The adventures with this fiend would begin as fun but always end in
something burning down. To say his name was to summon him. These days Keeley
has the same effect. So yes, as I said we now mention her by the term above and
not her given name thus risking summoning her.
To give you a little background on Keeley, she is originally
from the panhandle part of Florida. She is part Seminole actually, and her grandfather
was a chief of some sort. Keeley came to NYC to attend NYU film school. During
her tenure there, she discovered a love and a passion for makeup. So after graduation
she worked as a makeup artist, and production supervisor. Keeley had quite a
career until 2 things happened: First, the market popped, and second, employers
discovered she was cat shit crazy.
Keeley had an interesting housing record. You see, she was
either evicted or kicked out of every residence she lived in. When Keeley was
kicked out, she was not just asked to leave but rather the cops were called as
the roommates were throwing her things out the window. Or she called the cops
to settle a petty roommate argument and they said, “Wow, this bitch is insane. We
gotta get her out of here.”
It seemed as if Keeley’s luck was turning when she scored a
luxury two bedroom that was rent controlled. She lived there for two years
without getting evicted, a feat of strength for her. However, there was a new
landlord who jacked the rent up to market value. During that period, the
Recession hit and everyone was affected. Work dried up, and Keeley began to
sweat like the rest of the world. So instead of getting a roommate or even
moving, Keeley decided to fight her landlord in eviction court.
The East Coast female version of the Michael Keaton
character from Pacific Heights, this had not been Keeley’s first rodeo. She knew
the ins and outs of eviction court so well that she chose to represent herself.
I don’t know what was worse, the fact she had been through this so many times,
or the fact she actually did a decent job there for a minute. In order to
sharpen her knowledge, Keeley spent countless hours researching. Sure, she wasn’t
certified by the New York Bar Association, but she never let a little
technicality like that get in her way.
Aside from acting as her own defense, Keeley was also an
ardent conspiracy theorist. A member of the Occupy Movement, Keeley had been
increasingly more active as time went on, and became convinced the government
was tapping her phone. Then she also surmised that her landlord was selling her
secrets to these people that were following her. To say she was off the hook
was the understatement of the year.
Keeley’s first few times in court proved victorious, but she
had a feeling they would be short lived. She also believed the eviction notice
to be not because of unpaid rent, but rather, a plot where her landlord was aligning
himself with the government. While I have met stoners with more plausible,
concrete theories, theirs usually contain UFOs and they know when to knock it
off. Keeley was stone cold sober, and that is the true enigma here.
Fearing she would lose and be homeless, Keeley began to cozy
up to a suspicious old man who was nearing death. The two began trading racy
text messages, and he promised Keeley a place to live for free. However, his
living heirs stepped in and put a stop to this. Keeley is hardly Anna Nicole,
but they suspected she had other motives.
Time was running out, and Keeley was at a dead end. So she
decided to hit me up for a psychic palm reading. At the time, I was working semi-regularly
as a palm reader and astrologer to supplement my income as a ventriloquist. Keeley,
wanting to know what to do next, consulted me for a reading. Actually, she didn’t
consult me. Rather, when we were hanging out she shoved her palm in my
direction and demanded to know what the outcome of her eviction proceeding was
going to be.
As a reader, this kind of thing was uncomfortable for me.
You see, this is the reason I didn’t pursue this vocation further. There were
people I read for with medical and legal questions. I don’t want to and don’t like
to answer those. My brother and sister are doctors. They went to school for 8
years, not only would it be asinine for me to channel the answer, but also an
insult to people with actual knowledge. Same with legal questions.
“Is the marshal coming for me, and do I need to hide?”
Keeley demanded.
I took a look at her palm, and wanted to get out of this
awkward space right quick. “I think the marshal will come when the judge issues
his next ruling.” I told her. The marshal couldn’t legally come just yet, even
if the landlord in judge were now in cahoots as Keeley had opined they were
earlier that evening.
“What will the judge’s ruling be?!” Keeley demanded, her
eyes wide and crazy.
“Consult a lawyer and things will go in your favor.” I
wanted nothing more to do with this. Keeley began telling me more and more and
asked if any spirits of dead people were around her. I lied and said yes. I
just wanted rid of this crazy bitch.
Keeley’s eviction proceeding dragged on, and I didn’t know
whether to loathe her for being a deadbeat or respect the fact she stuck like
super glue to her skewed morals. It got to the point where she was driving
everyone in our crew crazy. Jeanette avoided any and all contact with her,
because Keeley became convinced this cougar would let he move in. Her words, “Anywhere
she goes, everyone gets kicked out. No thanks.”
Sarit, who was lying to a racist Marine in Indiana about her
age in order to entrap a breathing husband found Keeley’s behavior
contemptuous. I believe she said, “Why doesn’t she work out a money deal with
her landlord. This is ridiculous.” When Sarit calls you ridiculous, you need to
take serious stock of your life.
Jessi and Jeanie found Keeley too much to take, and told
Nishu that they would not be present if she were to be invited over. That is
when Nishu revealed Keeley had a car and thousands of dollars worth of designer
jewelry and dresses she could sell to pay her landlord back. Then again, why
would our friend ever do the rational thing?
Jessi, Jeanie, Nishu and I were having a Keeley free Sunday.
It was our plan because she had just become too psychotic. Just then, Jeanie’s
phone got a ring. It was Keeley. We agreed not to pick it up. Then my phone
rang, then Jessi’s. However, this ring was weird. It was one ring and then the person
hung up. Was Keeley okay? Despite the fact our friend had annoyed us and we did
a Regina George by not inviting her to hang out, she was still our girl. This
worried us.
“To friends and family members of Keeley O’Donnell, her body
was found this morning in her West Side apartment. She has no family members we
can identify in the area. Please call this number if you have any information.”
“This is so terrible!” Jessi said.
“Yeah, and so bizarre. I knew we should have invited her.”
Nishu said casting an evil eye at the three of us.
“Nishu, she was off the hook the last time she was here and
was trying to go the psychic route. How much crazy am I expected to handle?” I
asked.
“She has a point.” Jeanie said siding with me.
We all agreed he should call the number. If our friend had
died, we wanted to know. The four of us all began to feel terribly as Nishu
tried not once, but six times. Finally he got an answer. In order to assuage us,
he put it on speaker. “Hey, what’s going on?” A familiar voice said.
Our jaws dropped. It was none other than Keeley herself. “Keeley,
you are supposed to be dead.” Nishu informed her.
“So?” Keeley said.
“So you sent this psychotic text saying you were dead. We
were worried.” Nishu was appalled as were the rest of us.
“No one was picking up their phone. What else was I supposed
to do?” Keeley replied as if this was no big deal whatsoever.
“Not do something fucked up like you did.” Nishu informed
her, aghast that she thought this was an appropriate course of action.
“Look, I’m sorry if I worried you for real.” Keeley whined, “It’s
just that-“
“I can’t deal with you now.” Nishu told her and hung up the
phone. We all exchanged glances. A pall of silence fell over the room. It had
hurt us to cut her out, but we had to. The bitch was too damn crazy. Of course then she sent Nishu an abusive text about how he used to be "cool, long haired and greasy" and now he was just a "sell out." He texted her back informing her that he was an adult who could keep a domicile without testing the legal system multiple times.
After the awkward fairy had laid her dust, Nishu suggested we watch
Stargate. We agreed. Not another word was spoken about what had happened, and
no one mentioned it thereon after. However, it was a silent, unwritten rule that
Keeley was no longer an everyday friend.
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