Dear the Beauster: Why Did I Ever Rent to Family?

by Beau Hebert

Dear The Beauster,

Seven months ago I rented a house to my brother and his girlfriend. I know they say to not mix business with family because you’ll look like the bad guy if things don’t work out. Sure enough, my brother hasn’t paid me anything other than the pet deposit for the past four months. It finally came time for me to evict him, and now he’s bad-mouthing me to the rest of the family. I’ve had aunts, uncles and cousins call me in anger about the whole thing. I’m trying to take the high road here, but that’s becoming increasingly difficult! What do I do?

Sincerely,

The High Road Has Me Feeling Low

 

Dear The H-R has me F-ling L,

Don’t beat yourself up for trying to help your brother. Whatever kindness and compassion you can muster during your short, brutish stint on this planet should be commended. Unfortunately, however, your very own brother has abused this goodwill. His mudslide of slander has cut the earth out from under your high road, turning it into a low road…a low road to Hell, paved with good intentions.

What you need to do now is take the low road and make it look like the high road through an intricate set of script-flipping maneuvers.

Let me bust it down in rhyme:

You’re up a creek and in a pickle, so chomp this Vlasic and hear a landlord classic. Eviction gives depiction of a victim of some system; but mortgages don’t pay themselves and banks don’t give a damn, that your tenant is related, his payment belated, complaints inflated. You’ve shown restraint, been a saint, withheld complaint about their choice of paint; but no dead presidents is evidence that residence should be past tense. It’s time to act and move on in, he’s your brother, next of kin. Say: “My lady gave me the boot, I like your couch, now move your foot.’ Their pantry is your playground, their fridge is your domain, every yogurt, beer & chunk of cheese is your rightful thing to claim. The bathroom is a pleasant place to shave your face, your back, the follicles in your crack, floss your molars, put your hair in rollers, take long showers while singing “I’ve got the power!” When your brother’s girlfriend wants in, tell her hush, don’t bother to flush, do something questionable with her brush. Soon your brother will relent, he’ll beg you to go and cough up rent; The low road you’ve taken will appear high – you’re the victim, not the bad guy.

Trust me. This always works.

Prescription from the Jude’s back bar pharmacy: Wet Money Cocktail – white rum, almond syrup, green chartreuse & fresh lime with crushed ice served up.

Overheard at the bar: “I’m suffering from anti-hero fatigue.”

Beau Hebert is the owner and head bartender of Jude’s Old Town

Featured image by Alex Garland

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