Maurice: A story of my new landlord:

In a note to my new roommates, I lay out the scene of what transpired between my newest landlord and I in a trip to Kinko's to photocopy our newest accord...

After a wild ride up 16th st (Maurice apparently does not abide by
DC traffic light or speed restrictions...) we arrived at Kinko's
quickly. I'm not aware if any of you have been to a Kinko's after
midnight, but its quite the experience, especially with a man of
Mo-Reese's class and stature (a distinguished Washingtonian, never to be caught not wearing a sport jacket of some sorts, even with paint on the cuffs). Mr. White refused to pay the one dollar
twenty seven cents by credit card, exclaiming that "People are idiots
who pay for things like coffee and mcdonalds with credit cards. 2
dollars, seriously? Just pay cash, that's what money is made for!" I of
course realizing the increased efficiency and speediness of using a
credit card in times such as this, but while also recognizing that I
may need to sacrifice brevity for a potential hilarious encounter, say
nothing of the credit-card-using-potential of Kinko's black and
white printers.

Mr. White, himself and I being the only persons in the store at this
late hour, seems utterly flabbergasted that A: He has not been greeted
upon arrival at this place of business: and B: refuses to use his
credit card to pay for 11 copies, takes it upon himself to yell across
the room to the lone attendant working behind the counter. Clearly
this person at arms has not taken the night shift job at Fed Ex
Kinko's to signify to the general public, and himself, of his
invigorating character and drive to assist the customer and business
alike, and thusly takes his precious time in responding to Mr. White's
outburst. After a sullen few moments, the attendant slowly makes his
way over to us to see what is the matter. Mo-Reez engages this person
with a series of questions, How am I supposed to operate this machine?
Why isn't it accepting cash? Who pays with credit cards anyways? Well
how am I supposed to pay with cash if I don't have a cash card? Do you
really expect us to just know all these things? etc...

The man simply hands him a loadable purple cash card, and I show
Maurice how to insert it into the machine and promptly load two, one
dollar bills onto it. Now the issue of exact change has entered Mr.
White's mind, and it becomes the topic of conversation and confusion
for the next few minutes. I at this point am simply enjoying this
entertaining outburst and merely listening to Mr. White's continued
comments on the seemingly perplexing conundrum we've found ourselves in.

I copy the 11 pages and hand the originals to Moreesss. He flips
through the second page where he suddenly realizes he, at this late
stage of the game, after all of our running around the District,
miscommunication, porch games, deceased friends, Himalayan cat fur/
hair, exotic statues, and car escapades, that he still hasn't signed
the lease. Dreadful that I'm about to face a potential meltdown, I
spring to action, grab the original page, hand him a pen, and watch as he carefully
signs the lease. Another copy later (thank god we hadn't been able
to load exact change at this point, because if so I may not be here
today to tell the tale.), and Mr. White, myself, and 11 pages of our
photocopied lease agreement, exit the store together, champions of the
night. I trick Maurice into thinking its his idea to drop me off at my
front door, and ten minutes later we're bidding each other farewell. I
shake his hand and wish him safe travels to Maine, where he's leaving promptly in the AM with his wife. He thanks me for having a "wonderful conversation, and welcome to 1205 4th st."
I think I'm the one who must thank him though, for without his
bewildering shenanigans, this story would never have been able to
manifest.