Adventures with Morse.

(REPRESENTATION)

Given the hood that Castle Mega is situated in, the general demographic of our neighbours can pretty accurately be described as "similarly situated young folk" or "old folk" or "wholesome families" containing at least one "very botoxed female". To the delight of my mother, it's a rather uneventful place to call home. That is of course, apart from our next door neighbour. The very same next door neighbour we've decided - after about six odd months of inhabiting the Castle - is completely and disconcertingly Weird, and MOST PROBABLY a murderer.

At a party we threw a while back (which we were very sure he was going to take issue with and maybe go on some sort of killing spree as a result of), I couldn't help but regale some friends with a handful of the creepy-ass things he's done in the past. After I'd brought my pals up to date with his antics they stood there, mouths agape. As one, they slowly turned around to stare, slightly terrified, at the wall dividing our flat from his.

Mike met him long before I did. His introduction to our neighbour was ol' Morse leaping out of the shadows to cast his creepy-ass light upon us occurred on an evening like no other. Mike was chaining his bike to the bench outside our door, when Morse burst out of his flat, truly enraged.

"WHAT'RE YA DOIN'??"
Mike, understandably flabbergasted, could only tell the truth. "I'm locking up my bike."
Morse stared him down for a moment, then disappeared as quickly as he'd barged into view. Weird, we thought. Not troubling.

A short time after that first run-in, Mike was about to leave to meet me at the ol' cinematorium when he suddenly heard banging sounds coming from right outside his window. His window's pretty secluded, so someone would have to make a specific trip there in order to bang metal on metal (which is what it sounded like). Miguel then went over to his other window, following the sound of footsteps, to see Morse storming back to his house, glaring at Mike through the window. He wasn't holding anything. Disconcerting.

The resulting conversation between Mike and I became the catalyst for the nickname that's well and truly stuck, long after we learned his actual name. In Disturbia, David Morse plays the weird-ass neighbour who wants to kill Shia Le Boef.

"Dude. He's fucking weird."
"I think he's going to kill us."
"He definitely doesn't want to be our pals."
"We're Shia LeBoef. He's David Morse."
"Fuuuuuuuuuck."

Note: I haven't actually seen Disturbia because the only thing I can tolerate LeDudd in is
this SNL sketch.

In any case, that's his name now.

A few days later, I get home from work (RIP Full Time Employment) and walk past his flat to ours, like any other day. This time though, his door is open and he's standing there, behind the screen door. Looming. Not doing anything, just looming there. Seeing him glaring and looming out of the corner, I jump in surprise and let out an involuntary yelp.

We stare at each other for a moment.

"Um. Hi?" I offer.

He continues to stare at me for a moment. Uncomfortable pause. I make a noise and rush the fuck inside.

Later that evening I decide to go for a run. I leave the house and walk up the stairs at the front of our block to the street. I look behind me, and see Morse leaning around his door, staring at the entrance to our house. I watch him for a few seconds. He's perfectly still, gaze fixated on our door. I run the fuck away.

After my run I walk back to our door, and he's loitering outside his door. I decide to take action. Maybe if he knows our names he'll decide we're worth sparing, I think to myself.

"Hi. I'm Rebecca." I held out my hand and gave him my most charming smile. "Nice to meet you!"

He shakes my hand. I'd expected him to answer with a "Hi, my name is _____" but instead he just glared at me while holding my outstretched hand. A very uncomfortable pause ensues, seemingly lasting eons.

"Uh...I live with my housemate, Michael. I think maybe you've seen him around?"

He stares at me for a moment longer.

"Yes." He says. "I have."

I rush the fuck inside and wash my hand.

Just about every run-in has been like that over the past few months. Looming, uncomfortable pauses and strange looks. It's a little disconcerting, especially when the occasional yelled expletives drift through the wall. After introducing myself to our other neighbours (all lovely), I soon found out that he must've taken some sort of a shine to me. Simply put, he yells at just about everyone in our quiet hood, and he hasn't yelled at me yet. Unless of course, the expletives heard through the wall were directed at me. Usually, they're roars of "FffffuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK." so you know, they could be anything.

No, instead he'd just glared at me.

Anyway, like I said every story since those first few have been just about as creepy or disconcerting as the last. Like when he demanded to know how many of us live at our place. Or when he loomed in FRONT of his door for a while. Or when the car crashed in front of our house and he spent the next four hours yelling about "THE ALMIGHTY CRAAAAAASH" that he'd witnessed to everybody at the scene (believe me, that is a long-winded story worth telling in its own right) and anybody who'd listen.

Amusingly, after my initial shock had worn off, I suddenly realised that watching Morse ranting and raving about seeing the horrible car crash ("WITH ME OWN EYES!!!") had been the longest I'd ever seen Morse talk, or interact with people. Or be out of his house, for that matter. By then Mike had arrived back from his weekend away and I was sitting outside, my attention divided between watching Morse yell wildly, and being intrigued by the flaming car across from our house. Suddenly, I sprinted back inside.

"DUDE. MORSE. HE'S SPEAKING. He's talking to people." 

Forget the horrible car crash, Morse was outside, talking, being a mostly functioning person. Not a looming, creepy figure that yells instead of speaking. Interesting realisation, that was. That Morse is an actual human with a name and the ability to interact with other humans. To be honest, I did become to be less creeped out by him for a while. I got a phone call from my brother when Morse was on the news yelling loudly about the car crash on the evening news, ("AN ALMIGHTY CRAAAASH!") which was pretty hilarious. Of course, the feeling that perhaps we aren't living next to a weirdo possible murderer lasted all of about a week, because before long he was back to his yelling, looming creepy-ass ways. You know, demanding to know how many people live in our flat, people knocking on the door inquiring as to his whereabouts, things like that.

Mike, Jaz and I recently compared notes on recent Morse antics while sitting at our picnic bench outside. All of a sudden someone noticed his window was open. An uncomfortable hush fell over the table. You could almost hear a wolf, or coyote, or creepy wind blow, or something equally as ominous cast a shadow over us.

Eh, we'll see how things go I guess. As long as no one tells my highly strung mother, I think we'll be okay.

Come over at your own risk.