Dan was nice enough to forward me this email Gary sent him on Saturday

Subject: JUST CONFIRMING….

DF:

U STATED THAT “U DO NOT WANT 2 GET INVOLVED”…..well, just pay your rent, CONT….. DF = DUMB FOCKIN’ CONT…..

actually it is about time that alyssa paid me something….just a thought….COWARD, possy-whipped wimp that u r……..

DF, don’t forget to include alyssa’s share of the utilities in the check…..

see our Rental Agreement attached……

Gary

A lot of people are having difficulty understanding Gary in this email.  In what I have come to appreciate as a daring revolution in modern writing style, Gary uses o’s intead of u’s, and when possible, uses high school girl AIM lingo.

I woke up this morning to another gem from Gary in my inbox:

Subect: WHERE ARE THE KEYS TO MY HOME, YOU QUEER, TINY, BIPOLAR, GABE?????

KISS YOUR DEPOSIT GOODBYE..

First off, sentence structure: phenomenal.  Clarity of thought: even better.  My response email:

Re: WHERE ARE THE KEYS TO MY HOME, YOU QUEER, TINY, BIPOLAR, GABE?????

Dear Gary,

I have no intention of keeping the key I have to your house.  I will put it in your mailbox either later today or tomorrow. 

As for the subject heading, I’d like to clear something up about “bipolar.”  Its roots refer to bi-, two, and -polar, extremes.  People that suffer from bipolar disorder experience swings from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other.  An example of this would be someone who is perfectly friendly during the day, but then sends angry drunken emails at night.  In contrast, I believe I have remained at a pretty constant emotional calm throughout all of this.

All the best,
Gabe

I had spent Saturday in Chicago with a friend of mine from college whose parents were heading up a party for Indian Doctors in the Midwest.  On Sunday, I hear from my housemate Dan that he was at the house to move all of his stuff, but Gary has screwed the door shut.  Dan then called the police, who helped him climb through a window, undo the screw, and move his stuff out.  Afterwards, Dan calls Gary to ask him about his security deposit.  Gary seems enraged and surprised that Dan has called the cops.

This is a prime example of Gary’s limits in thought.  When he screwed the door shut, he only got as far down in the line of repercussions as, “…and then they won’t be able to get in the house! Brilliant!”  Of course Dan is going to call the police, all of his belongings are in the house.

So later in the day, My friend Job’s (Shameless plug: Job is also in a band: Ezra Furman and the Harpoons. Check them out at EzraFurman.com.  They’ll also be at Lollapalooza this summer.) little brother Mat drives me back to the suburbs and I ask him if he wants to help me move a desk and explain the story.  Mat is thrilled at the opportunity.  So we get to the house, Gary is in his office, and we are able to open the door.  So we go in and get my desk.  At this point I’m a little worried that Gary is going to disappoint, and Mat won’t get a full taste of his craziness…. as I’m thinking this, I see Gary at the front door with a power drill, screwing the door shut.  I am literally face to face with him at the door, and he refuses to even look at me, and then walks away.  Me and Mat then go around back and find that he didn’t lock the kitchen door so we walk in and grab the chair.  As Mat is saying that he’s pissed he didn’t get to see him, he looks up and sees Gary at the upstairs window flicking us off.  Conversation as follows:

Gabe:  So I take it this means you don’t have my security deposit?
Gary:  GO FUCK YOURSELF! YOU COWARD MOTHERFUCKER!
Gabe:  So, no then?
Gary:   And you’re never going to get it, YOU COWARD CUNT MOTHERFUCKER!
Gabe:  Well it certainly seems that way…. Gary, what do you think the next step is going to be?  Have you thought this out at all?  What would you do if you were me?  I’m going to have to file a claim in small claims court.
Gary:  Oh yea, well SUE ME!
Gabe:  …Well actually Gary, that’s what a claim is.  That’s exactly what I would be doing, suing you. 
Gary:  Well stop talking and do it MOTHERFUCKER! GO FUCK YOURSELF!
Gabe:  Well, It’s pretty late on a Sunday, I doubt they’re open. But, I’m sure I’ll get around to it.
Gary:  Take you and your SPIC FRIEND AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!
(at this point me and Mat, who as you could have guessed from my description of my weekend, is Indian, start laughing)
Gary:  IT’S NOT FUCKING FUNNY.
Mat:  Wrong ethnicity, but I guess it’s the spirit that counts.
(I thought this was pretty inspired, and couldn’t stop giggling about it)
Gary:  Unintelligible screaming.
Gabe:  Alright, bye Gary.  It was nice talking to you.
Mat:  It was wonderful meeting you Gary!

Gary,

You requested that I be evicted on July 3rd, 2009.  I have yet to receive from you the $500 security deposit that I paid along with my first month’s rent.  I will be back tomorrow, July 5th, in order to collect the last of my belongings and would appreciate it if you had the deposit then.  If I have not received it by July 18, 2009 or have not heard from you regarding this by July 11th, I will be filing a claim in order to collect.  I would prefer, as I am sure you would to, that it not have to come to that.  For that reason, if you do not currently have the funds to make such a payment in full, let me know and we can try to work something out.  I have provided an address that you can send a check to along with an email address and phone number so you can get ahold of me.

Gabriel Dunn

Gary was kind enough to respond to this email later that night at around midnight:

NOT MY PROBLEM, YOU FOCKIN’ COWARD CUNT!!!!!

I wake up to the following note slid under my door (I’ll attach a photo later):

GABE,

I’M NOT IN JAIL!!!

GARY (Signed and dated)

Favorite things about this letter: I couldn’t tell whether this was supposed to be like an apology, “no hard feelings, I didn’t end up in jail,” or a threat, “I’m outside your door!”  That will get cleared up shortly.  Second: I adore that he signed and dated it.  As if I was going to get the letter, “Gabe, I’m not in jail!” and think, “Hmmm…. now who could this be from?  Who do I know that might possibly have spent the night in jail?  Oh wait… there it is, it’s from Gary.  But wait, is this from this most recent arrest, or is this from the last time he got arrested.  Oh… there it is, July 4th.”  I also like that he signed and dated it as if to make it legal.  Like this would be somehow beneficial for HIM to use in court.  I am amazed he didn’t take the time to get it notarized.

I then go out to my car and find the following note (again, I’ll put up a picture later):

GABE/COWARD

YOUR (sic.) ARE EVICTED!

This helped clear up that the earlier note was not an apology.  I then procede to pack all of my belongings into my car except for my desk and chair.  Afterwards, I knocked on Gary’s door to talk about getting my security deposit.  He pretended not to be there, and tried to be as silent as possible (for a 63 year old 200+lb hungover man on a spring mattress).

“Gary, I know you’re in there so I’m just going to say this through the door.  I need my security deposit back.  I’ll send you a letter or an email to this effect soon.  I would also like to point out that the irony of you refusing to come to the door right now after having left a courageous letter on my windshield calling me a coward, it’s not lost on me and I hope it isn’t lost on you either. Bye”

(I always get excited when a movie says its own title in the movie)

At around 1am, I hear loud knocking at the door.  I go downstairs to answer the door and see 3 police officers.  They ask me if I’m Gary.  If there is anything I’ve learned from living at that house, if the police are asking, you are NOT Gary.  At this point, Gary, from the top of the stairs screams, “STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU’RE NOT ARRESTING ME!” The police are waiting for some filed complaint to be confirmed before they can enter the house and arrest him.  The conversation was as follows:

Gary: READ ME MY MIRANDA RIGHTS!

Police: Gary, we’re not arresting you, we just need to talk.

Gary: READ ME MY MIRANDA RIGHTS!  DO YOU EVEN KNOW THE MIRANDA RIGHTS!

Police: (laughing) yea Gary, we know the Miranda rights.

Gary: DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO MY LAWYER IS?

Police:  No Gary.

Gary: Frankie T. ……

Police: Gary, do you know who your lawyer is?  You’ll probably want to find out pretty soon.

Gary: FUCK YOU! GABE, I NEED YOU TO SHUT THE DOOR AND LOCK IT!

Gabe: Gary, I’m not about to slam the door in the police’s face.

Gary: Who even opened the fucking door in the first place!

Police: Gabe did.  Gabe, if you’re a paying tenant of this house, you can invite us in.

Gabe: Look, I’m just trying to stay out of this.

Gary: Gabe did?  Well Gabe’s a moron!

(I go upstairs to put on a shirt after realizing that this is going to be a long process)

Gary: (standing close enough so that I can see the reds of his eyes) GABE, IF YOU DON’T SLAM THAT DOOR AND LOCK IT, YOU WON’T HAVE A PLACE TO SLEEP TOMORROW.

Gabe:  That’s insane Gary.  It is ridiculous for you to ask me to do that.  I’ll have a place to sleep, it just won’t be here.

Police:  That’s all we need, Gary, we’re coming in, you’re under arrest for telephone harassment and solicitation of a sexual act (see note below).

Gary:  Thanks a lot Gabe, Thanks a lot.  You see what you’ve done.  Look what you’ve fucking done.

Police: This was all you big guy.

The police handcuff Gary and take him away.

Note: Gary had apparently been calling James and screaming insults about him and his daughter.  In there, I have to imagine he said something vulgar enough to count as solicitation of a sexual act.  Be that as it may, I like to think that after yelling at him on the phone Gary said something like, “James… I know we’ve been fighting a lot, but I would still really like to pay you for sex.”

This story was told to me by a couple living in the room next door to me; Dan and Alyssa.  Dan is in his room when he gets a call from Gary.  Gary asks Dan if he can talk to him outside.  Dan reluctantly agrees.  Once outside, Gary tells Dan, “Here’s the deal.  Your girlfriend has been spying on me for James.”

I absolutely love that Gary thought Dan’s response to this was going to be, “Oh my God.  You think so?  It all makes so much sense! I’ll keep an eye out for you Gary, thanks for letting me know.”

Instead, Dan said he was being ridiculous, to which Gary freaked out and started screaming at him.  Dan and Alyssa went looking for new apartments the next day.

My car has been leaking oil for a little while, and I have been trying to get it fixed.

Email from Gary concerning this:

GD:

YOUR CAR IS STILL LEAKING OIL LIKE A SIEVE….

GET IT FIXED NOW…..

STRONG LETTER TO FOLLOW,

Gary

Strong letter that followed:

get your oil leak fixed NOW……MORON

I decided to let everything at the house cool down and went home to Indiana for the weekend.  On Sunday, my friend Lauren, who was planning to look for housing in Chicago on Monday, was staying at the house with me.  When we arrived at the house, I joked, “well the cops aren’t here, so that’s a good sign.”  I was then informed that I in fact had just missed the police.  James had looked out his window to find Gary climbing into his (James’s) car and taking photos.  James called the police, and they arrived to arrest him for trespassing.  At this point Gary locked himself in his office, and refused to open the door.

Before anyone asks, I have no idea why Gary was taking these photos.

Earlier, I had learned that I needed a rental receipt from Gary for work.  I finally saw Gary outside of his office smoking a cigarette, so I asked him about the rental receipt.  He told me what a good tenant I was, and that he would be happy to get it for me.  Mid-conversation, the police came back.  Gary politely excused himself from the conversation, and ran to his office door with the police in pursuit.  He was able to get inside and get the door locked.

Amazingly, this actually works.  The police ended up leaving in about 15-20 min.  Next time I get pulled over, I’m refusing to roll down the window until they go away.

Finally, at 3am, Lauren and I hear screaming from downstairs.  It would appear that James and Gary are still talking on the phone, and Gary is screaming “YOU’RE A COWARD! YOU’RE A FUCKING COWARD!”  We decide to let this one alone and try to sleep through it.

Upon returning from work on Wednesday, I find 2 cop cars parked in the driveway.  The police inform me that when James returned from the hospital, he discovered his TV, laptop, and iPhone were all missing.  When asked about this, Gary claimed he had no idea where they were.  The police then found the TV in Gary’s garage.  He admitted to having stole the TV, but said he had no idea where the laptop or phone was.  They found the laptop under his bed.  “Alright, I also stole the laptop, but I have no idea where the iPhone is.”  The iPhone was then found in his desk drawer.

This is the first, and a prime example, of Gary’s inability to plan for future events.  One could assume that after finding the TV, they would likely continue to search.  Unless you have thought of a really unique hiding place, just fess up, because they’re probably going to check your desk and under your bed.

Gary was handcuffed and I was asked if I would be posting bail for Gary.  Having lived in the house for just about 2 weeks, I didn’t feel that me and Gary were at that “posting bail” level of our relationship.  Gary then spent the night in Kane County lock-up on charges of felony theft.