Fear The Van, Fear The Man

There is a man living in his mini-van outside of my apartment building.

I first made this discovery when I noticed a window washer's set-up (bucket, rags, squeegee) on the curb next to the van. I thought, hmmm, that is strange, I wonder who left that there. And then I began to notice other things... Windows heavy with humidity. Fallen leaves that surround the van smelling not of decay, but urine. And then it occurred to me that some guy was living in his van. That was two months ago.

I had many questions. Is he watching me? Is he warm? How much money does he make window washing? Where does he poop?

At first, I wanted to bring him a hot meal, or give him money for gas to move to another location. But I keep having these little scenarios go through my head of being abducted and held captive in the van outside my apartment, my cat watching the whole thing go down from the bedroom window and trying to alert a passerby, like Lassie did when little Timmy fell in the well. No one notices my cat's frantic efforts to save me, so I write "HELP ME" on the fogged windows, but I forget that I have to write backwards so my rescuers outside can read it. And then, the window washer gets angry that I messed up his windows, so he drugs me and makes me stand out in the sun all day by the expressway and wash people's windows. I get a really awesome tan. As I grow fondly attached to my captor, I learn to live in a van and my old life becomes just a faded memory.

It has kept me up most nights. Despite the anxiety, I still feel sorry for the guy. I can't bring myself to call the cops or have his van towed. He is probably a really great guy.