I moved into the Stanford Square Apartments in February, 2006. It was a forced move. The apartments I had been living in, Park Ridge Apartments, were being torn down. Park Ridge was an older apartment community in the TCU area of Fort Worth built in Spanish, adobe style in the early ‘70s. The management said the property had been sold to a real estate developer and they decided to tear the place down and build new apartments. Since this sale took a year or so to finalize the quality of apartment maintenance quickly went down hill. However, this was a short trip since the quality of maintenance was not great to begin with. By the time of my move most of the tile in the bathroom tub had fallen out and plaster was falling from the ceiling and leaking with every rain storm.
     The mistake I made, though, in moving was not scouting out more places. I just grabbed a flier that was on my car that advertised a $99 move in special at Stanford Square. The place was near the Como (i.e., po' black) area of west Fort Worth, and noted for its high crime rate. However, the apartments themselves had been newly renovated, were partially gated and seemed nice on the surface. Also, to be honest, the leasing agent was a hot little Mexican tamale and, although I knew my chances of hooking up were near zero, her female charms persuaded me to sign a year-long lease. After all, I was 39, overweight, white and she was probably 25 at the outside. Let’s face it. Most men are fools until the end when it comes to women. How in the hell do you think most titty bars stay in business?
     Anyway, after moving in I quickly met my neighbors. The one next door was a snaggle-toothed ex-meth freak with a mohawk. She looked 70 but was actually 50. The upstairs neighbor was a 21-year old TCU dropout from Colleyville, Texas, who was now living the life of the poor and pathetic. He was fired, or had quit, several low paying jobs during the year I lived there. For the first few months everything went fine but then the place started living up to its Como rep.
     Around 8 one night I heard gun shots and went outside to find an abandoned, hot-wired car with its doors open and no one in it. Soon the cops showed up. Snaggle Tooth had seen the perp and pointed the cops in the direction he ran off in. Two of the cops pursued him while one stayed behind to interview me, TCU Dropout and Snaggle Tooth. I didn’t see anything, told the cop so, and went back inside. Snaggle Tooth and Dropout talked to the cop a few more minutes. A few minutes later the perp was arrested. Surprisingly, he was a wearing a shirt. I guess they weren’t filming for the COPS t.v. show that night. A few hours after they took Car Thief off to jail. A tow truck showed up to pick up the stolen vehicle.
     For the next month or so things stayed quiet but then Snaggle Tooth’s mother and brother from the Rio Grande Valley decided to move in with her --- in her 300 square foot efficiency apartment. By this point I had gotten to know Snaggle Tooth well enough to know she was bat shit crazy. She told me she came from money and had met Shrub the Prez back in the '90s while he was Texas governor. But, if she came from money, why was she living in Stanford Square, a total shithole? She never had an answer for that. The worst part of her relatives moving in was her brother being a crackhead.
     If you are a crackhead this apartment complex was the place to be since all the dealers lived nearby. One day he and Snaggle Tooth came pounding on my door offering to share a joint. Since I was out of smoke I let them in. We bullshitted for about half an hour and they left. I enjoyed my pot and beer buzz for the rest of the night and later went to bed. A few days later old Snaggle Tooth and Crackhead Brother showed up again. Crackhead started going on about how he had rock and then proceeds to get his pipe and stash out and start smoking. He asks me several times if I want any and I pass. By this time I had some God's Smoke and didn’t care. Also, I had tried crack a few times years ago and didn’t want to mess with it any more. I was lucky I didn’t get addicted like he obviously was.
     “You know that joint you smoked with us the other day had crack in it.”
     “Didn’t notice.”
     Crackhead laughed then proceeded to try and get me to smoke crack yet again after I’d already turned him down several times. I knew what he was up to now. He was looking for a running buddy to pay for his habit. I didn’t fall for it and told him not to ever bring that shit over to my place again. I told him to smoke it elsewhere, like HIS PLACE! After that, I barely saw him or Snaggle Tooth again. I didn’t miss them much. When my lease was up I looked hard for another place and ran from there like a scalded ass ape when my lease ended. I barely slept most nights because ole Crackhead liked to yell and slam doors in the middle of the night. On top of that the place was infested with roaches. Where I’m at now is no Taj Mahal but almost anything beats that shithole!