The Further Misadventures of Bait & Switch, Vol. 1

Author's note: The roles of Ms. Bait and Mr. Switch shall be played by the same two actors from episode to episode, using cosmetic disguise to create the illusion of difference in landlords.

Tuesday's Episode: 917 N. Curson #4 West Hollywood, CA

Fade In:

E drives and drives and drives.

E: Damn, I'm getting tired of this. I've been looking for a place for almost a month now. This is a total waste of time. I'm gonna build a yurt...or live in a storage unit, or something.

Thirty minutes later:

E arrives at his destination in leafy, funky Weho. He is pleased that the building is not a rathole and the he is within walking distance to the Tomkat (formerly the Pussycat) Theater. He checks his watch and sees that he is fifteen minutes early, but decides to prowl around anyway. Amazingly, the landlord is already waiting in the vacant apartment. E enters.

Switchman: Hello?
E: Oh, hi. I'm E. I'm here about the apartment.
Switchman: Oh, hello, I'm Mr. Switchman.
E: Switch...man? You're dead ringers for this other guy I know, Mr. Switch.
Switchman: I get a lot of that. Nope, it's Switchman.
E: Hmmm.

E looks around the apartment. He is pleased. The apartment is large and sunny and free of rats.

E: The apartment is big and bright, and the price is right...
Switchman: I've had so many calls on this unit, but you're the first to see it, lucky you!
E: You know, I think I've rented from you before, actually.
Switchman: Oh, really?
E: Yeah, in Los Feliz, on Kingsley.
Switchman: Oh, sure. Now I remember.
E: I was in there for about three years.
Switchman: (smiles) Well, that's a good sign.
E: I remember vividly because you gave me my entire deposit back, and I was..well...how shall I say...IMPRESSED.

E looks at Switchman and looks away.

E: I'll take it.
Switchman: Great, so here's the preliminary paperwork. If you're an independent contractor then we'll need a xeroxed bank statement and tax form from last year and your last few pay stubs. Get a money order for half of the security deposit, fill out the credit check form and call me when you finish and we can meet up again.
E: Okay.

E drives drives drives and handles all this stuff, then drives drives drives back to Weho and meets Switchman at his own pad near Crescent Heights. It is tastefully decorated and pet-free. Switchman looks through E's paperwork.

Switchman: This is great, perfect, so organized, my...They're going to love this.
E: Great.
Switchman: So, I 'll send this in and Ms. Bait will run a credit check on you...which I'm sure you'll pass...
E: My credit is unstoppable.
Switchman: ...And then you can come by and sign the lease.
E: (under) I would do anything for this apartment.
Switchman: Excuse me?
E: Nothing.

The next day:

E wakes up with a feeling of dread in his gut. Something is going awry with the apartment, he knows it.

E: Jesus, what is this feeling I'm having? I feel so moody and out-of-control. If I don't get this apartment I'm going to smash things with my fists. What is this feeling? I know, it's like being in love with one of my erratic ex-girlfriends. Ah, this feeling takes me back to darker times. But I was alive then, so alive! But why am I worried, anyway? It's a shoo-in! An absolute no-brainer--

E's cell phone vibrates.

E: Hello?
Bait: Hi, this is Ms. Bait from B&S Property Management. I have some terrible news...
E: Don't tell me I didn't pass the credit check--
Bait: No, your credit is unstoppable.
E: What then?
Bait: The building is being sold and the new owners want to fill the vacancy themselves.

Pause.

E: Huh? Then, why...
Bait: I don't know, I'm sorry. We just found out.
E: What. Truly?
Bait: Truly, truly!
E: Is there some other reason you don't want to rent to me?
Bait: No, it's not you. It's not you.
E: I spent all yesterday handling all the paperwork.
Bait: I'm so sorry. I didn't want to make this phone call...

Pause.

Bait: We'll send you a check for the amount of the deposit--

E hangs up and goes for a long, knee-pounding run but he is still enraged so goes out to the garage and flattens aluminum cans for forty-five minutes.

Blackout.


Tomorrow: An Unexpected Twist!