The Hammer Beckons

The Human Y0-Yo is back. When the threat of physical violence is imminent from her alcoholic cohort, the Human Yo-Yo calls me, the Fucking Fool. I got the call last week, too, but by the end of the week (a week that was supposed to result in a job or rehab) the desire to continue the descent into insanity was too strong, so the Human Yo-Yo bailed. After a weekend of round-the-clock drinking interspersed with a daylong hangover, she realized that she was right back where she started from (actually, the inevitable threat of eviction seems to be bringing things to some sort of head down at the drunken abode). After her most recent departure, I vowed that I would never pick up my ringing phone again (I don't have one of those call-screener things). I still don't know why I picked it up. Maybe it's because I'm the Fucking Fool. Anyway, I get the same old song and dance with the same result: the Human Yo-Yo is back. But this time I got the added bonus of her fellow alcoholic calling after he stumbled home from the bar (I had enough sense not to pick up that call), followed, shortly after, by a drunken appearance in the lobby of my building ringing my bell. By this time I was in such a rage that I seriously thought that I could bring things to a hasty conclusion. The hammer that had sat on the top of my refrigerator since this asshole's last visit beckoned. I saw it all in my mind's eye: a quick dash toward the lobby with the hammer raised, the drunk fumbling in the narrow vestibule in his attempt to escape, the falling hammer, the falling drunk. Nothing could be simpler. I probably didn't even need the hammer. A simple shove down the steep stairs outside my building would work just as well (drunks take falls all the time, why not give him a hand?). Fortunately, I came to my senses and left it at, "If he's not gone in five minutes, I'm calling the police." And, fortunately, I didn't have to do that. He slumped back to the drunken abode only to reemerge the next day with a series of drunken messages alerting me to the fact that he was "angry" (I assume that's what he said, his speech was rather slurry). So not only am I now harboring someone who needs to be in rehab, but I've got her drunken, woman-beating cohort along for the ride, threatening that should he ever meet me that he "will be violent" with me. Welcome to the world of the Fucking Fool.