Finally, the Holy Grail of Gary correspondence: the drunken voicemail!  I guess I slept through his call, but he was nice enough to leave a message.  I’ll try to figure out how to get the actual voicemail on here in the morning.  Having heard it, I think that it alone may catapult this blog to being bigger than google.

“Gabe… Gabe Dunn you little cunt, you little queer.  If you think you’re going to get a uh a uh deposit refund from me…. kiss my fucking dick.  I saw your little squirrelly ass… came in here today and didn’t have the balls to hand me your key, and I’m not sure it was your key, because I think you’re a little fucking … crook.  I hope you rot in hell you cocksucker. (long pause) You little fucking dick.  You little squirrelly bipolar dick…. I know you’re bipolar. You will not receive a refund of your stupid fucking deposit because you broke the contract you motherfucking little squirrelly dick.  Take me to court you lying motherfucker.  Remember…. Well, you don’t remember because you’re fucking queer. And you’re bipolar. You let the cops in my house you fucking dick.  Take me to small claims like you threatened me. You DICK. You fucking little tiny fucking dick. That’s what you are.  You’re a little tiny dick from… Fermilab.  Call me if you dare… dick!”

Finer points of this voicemail:

1) “…you broke the contract….” I’m assuming Gary is talking about the part of the contract that read, “if the cops show up to arrest me, the tenant is responsible for keeping me out of jail.”  I knew I should have read that thing more carefully.

2) “Remember…. Well, you don’t remember because you’re fucking queer.  And you’re bipolar.”  This part hit a little home because often times my queerness and bipolar disorder do cause me to forget things.

3) What could the purpose of this voicemail be other than to help me stockpile evidence for the ensuing court case?