San Diego - Rodrick 3

While we were walking down the hall, Rodrick asked if I knew anyone who needed a room to rent. Although I did have a friend, Jamie, who needed a room, but the image of Jamie stumbling in drunk at 3:00 in the morning and mistaking Rodrick for a futon prevented me from mentioning his name.

When I lived in Washington, DC, I had a similar experience in which I walked into an elderly couple's house and all of a sudden felt as though I was going to drown in an overwhelmingly large cache of junk. Newspapers and furniture were scattered around in a chaotic mess that made me feel a bit lightheaded. It was a slight shock therefore, when I walked into Rodrick's apartment and saw that it was pristine. There were jade Buddha statues surrounded by a tasteful array of plants in one corner of the room and a home theatre entertainment system in another. The room was furnished with a rouge-colored matching living room set, adorned with intricate wood patterning.

"Your house is very nice Rodrick," I commented while walking in.

"Thank you," he answered. "I used to be an interior decorator," he said as he walked towards the extra room that he wanted to rent out.

It was an extension of the dining room, which had a flimsy sliding-door partition. Like the rest of his house, it was immaculate. It contained a bathroom, which I noted with interest, was substantially larger than the one that Tim and I shared.

"Looks really nice Rodrick," I stated while enviously scrutinizing the bathroom. Rodrick pulled a chair out of from underneath his sparkling glass dining room table and sat down with a sigh of relief.

"After I got out of the army, I studied interior design at the University of Austin, Texas," he began. "I did some interior design in Texas before coming here, but everyone out here wanted oak and that really turned me off of it. So I decided to go into the jewelry and pawnshop business."

Realizing that it was quite rude to stand up while he talked, I quickly glanced around the room. Looking down at a chair, I realized that this could turn into a long-affair if I sat down, so I instead opted to lean against the wall.

"Okay," I said.

"I made a lot of money in the business but I started taking black angels, do you know what black angels are?"

"No."

"Amphetamines, black angels? You wouldn't know, that was before your time. You've probably heard of white spiders then."

"No," I answered curiously. What the hell was he gabbing on about, I wondered.

"Speed, I spent all of my money on speed."

I noticed that all of a sudden my attention became completely focused. Rodrick proceeded to explain how he had once had as many as twenty-nine doctors, all selling him prescription amphetamines. He was a self-proclaimed "workaholic, who was addicted to speed."

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