THE ROOMMATE

Living on the west side of Cleveland, Ohio, I owned a tiny house in the 1960s. Jobs were hard to find in Cleveland, and even when you did have a job, the pay was low. Since I had two bedrooms, I decided to rent the extra room out. I placed ads in the Cleveland Press and the Cleveland Plain Dealer.

I received several calls, but none wanted to pay the rent I was asking of $55.00 a month. Then I received a call from a young man who seemed to be around my age. I had turned 30 a few months back, and I thought we would have a lot in common. His name was Paul, and I was John. Paul seemed like a nice guy, very polite and quit, and he agreed to the rent amount since he had an excellent paying job.

He moved in two days later, with just a few clothes and a radio alarm clock. I told him to help himself to any food, but please wash any dishes you would use. We agreed to share grocery costs, yard work, utility bills.

Everything was going great for nine months, and then I noticed changes in Paul. I saw he loved going to bars and taverns, he liked to drink Black Label beer and smoked Lucky Strikes cigarettes but loved picking up women for one-night stands. He would bring the woman home at least twice a week, and they were always different and different ages.

About one year of living in my house, he brought an older woman home several times, her name was Margie, but this woman was different. She was well dressed, fancy jewelry, hair well done, and she had a very lovely new red Cadillac. The worst part was she was married. They seemed to love each other very much, and they dated for another six months.

It was now getting close to Christmas, and a recent snowstorm buried the city. They kept dating and, at times, parked in alleys to make out. Christmas came and passed, but rumors were that her husband was catching on to her cheating. They seemed very nervous about this, almost scared. It seemed her husband had connections to the Cleveland Mob. They still snuck around to see each other but always looking over their shoulder to see if they have a car following them.

It was now New Year's Eve. There was a neighborhood Dalmatian dog named Dancer that would go house to house begging for food, he was a sweet dog, and I always gave him food, so he came around daily.

On New Year’s Eve night, I stayed home to watch Guy Lombardo on the television. Paul and Margie went out to celebrate. They decided to park in the alley, on that cold, snowy night, that was behind the bar. They started making out as usual when suddenly, the passenger door flew open where Paul was sitting, Margie had decided to drive. It was Margie's husband, and he had a gun, and was screaming, "You SOB, you have been screwing my wife." Paul was so scared he urinated in his pants. Margie's husband was Joey "Big Ears" Pisano, a hitman for the Cleveland Mob. Joey put the gun against Paul's head and said, " you had your last screwing with my wife, you SOB." Joey then pulled the trigger. BLAM, Paul's skull fragments, blood, and brains splattered all over Margie who dressed to the nines and was screaming "no, don't shoot me, please!!!" Joey just said, "bitch, just clean the car before you come home." Joey pulled the body out of the car and onto the snow and walked away.

At the same time as the shot fired, I could hear a dog barking and running around my house like he was chasing someone. But no one was there, after running, circling the house about six times, he stopped at the side door of my house crying and growling. When I opened the door, his eyes were bugging out of his head. His fur stood straight up on his back, his tail between his legs. I believe Dancer, the dog, was chasing Paul's spirit until the spirit entered the house.

After a few days, Dancer was back begging for food, I began my search for a new roommate, I never saw Margie again, and Paul was buried six feet under.