Rooms To Let
by
Robert Lastdrager

"How does three sound?"
 "I'll see you then" I said and hung up.
"Surely this ones gotta be a goer" I thought and looked 
up at the clock.
I'd been in Sydney for ten months, or ten rounds as I used to say, and 
had lived in shared houses all over the city. Amidst the collapse of my 
current residence due to alcoholism, racism, sexism, orange people and 
the odd British backpacker, I was finding it harder and harder to secure 
another room anywhere.

I was running out of energy, goodwill, and money, and slowly sliding into 
desperation. The last place I'd applied for was a small cheap room in a 
run down house in Redfern. When I arrived at the address I found an 
upturned car wreck smouldering out the front.

"Room's gone mate! We've had shitloads who wanted it! Could've filled the 
fuckin' street!" he grinned." Tell me about it" I muttered turning back 
into Sydney's lead laden inner city arteries.

The advertisement read "Two Large Rooms To Let, Student House, 
Chippendale". Reaching the street at five to three I felt loose, cocky, 
confident. Excitement was coursing through my body.

"C'mon let's sort this shit out and get on with living. Give 'em 
some razzle-dazzle, be prepared to drop a few names, be prepared to
lie like a hyena, to spit like a camel or roll over like a fat 
old corgi if that's what it takes, just get the room!" I told 
myself as my boots avoided the cracks in the footpath.

Through the gates and hedges of number 442 I strode and into the gardens 
of a large two storey house alive with the sound of glasses tinkling, a 
popping, wheezing BBQ and the laughter and chat of about sixty student 
types.

I cruised around for a while. The whole place was full, inside and out. I 
slipped into the kitchen to check out the beer stocks and remarked to 
someone that I was there to see Jerry about one of the rooms.

"Jerry's in the lounge through there" he pointed.

"What's the party in aid of mate?" I yelled over the music.

"Party? No party mate! Everyone here's applying for the rooms!"

"No way" I thought, "this guy's got to be joking", and went through to 
the lounge where a large trestle table stood in the corner behind which 
sat Larry, Moe and Jerry.

"Hello Jerry?" I interrupted "Name's Ray; three o'clock?"

"Oh yes" said Jerry looking at his list, "take a seat".

"Ray we're asking everyone the same questions because as you can see 
we've been inundated with people wanting the rooms"

He spoke in an annoying accent, like an English aristocrat with a mouth 
full of tripe.

"So the rooms are $100 a week each. We'll need a month in advance and a 
bond of $400. Cope with that can you?" he said, hastily raising his 
eyebrows.

I was down to $60 but shot back" Sure, cash ok?"

Next came the "are you a student or employed?" line.

"Employed, I work full time in the city," I answered casually.

"Hmm, ok, now Ray, this is a non-sexist, vegetarian household, with a 
number of us being vegans. If you're a carnivore we require you cook all 
your meals in your own pots and pans, and we insist that no meat be kept 
in our refrigerator. "How does that sit with you?" he asked, looking side 
to side at Larry and Moe who nodded in unison.

"Fine with me, I work long hours, I eat out 99% of the time". I answered. 
I was rapidly starting to tire.

I realised the lounge room had become quiet, like a courtroom waiting for 
a verdict. As the questions continued the crowd in the room began to 
swell as more and more people packed in tight behind me, slowly moving me 
toward the table. It was a horrible place to be, sat in front of these 
three cardigan wearing pretty boys whose contempt for anything un yachty 
was obvious. Jerry who sat in the middle asked his next question.

Ray, do you smoke?"

"Yes I do," I answered firmly.

"Oh, ah em well that's not what we wanted to hear".
"Look, I'd be happy to smoke outside" I added quickly.
"No, no, thank you Ray, however I'm afraid not, we really are after a non 
smoker," he lamented, nodding his head sideways with a patronising little 
smile.

At that point the fellow sitting on the panel to Jerry's right said 
aloud,

"But YOU smoke, Jerry!"

Before anyone could utter a word there was a surge from the crowd as a 
large Scottish bloke landed a fierce right hand to Jerry's chin, knocking 
him off his chair and into the potted palms and cold fireplace.

"Waste my time will you, ya miserable bastard!" bellowed the Scots 
monster as he scattered all those around him. I wove through the melee 
and made for the front door. Back out onto the streets, back in to the 
city that didn't want me.