It's my second day in a new place, where I've rented a room. I think Scott rented another room, but he was kicked out the day before for some reason.

Now I'm in the kitchen at the new place, and the manager of the apartments, Matt from the rock gym, is questioning me about something. It relates to this kit of knife blades, and he's asking me where this certain blade is, and I can't find it. I explain precisely what I used it for, but we still can't seem to find it.

A girl comes in wearing a bathrobe like she just got out of the shower. I have met her before socially, but don't remember her name, and he says "Hi, Stephanie" like they are friends.

He seems to have completed his suspicious search and found nothing, and then she sets down two pillows that belong to me. I realize that he suspects me of using drugs (I have an image of this blade being used to cut a big bag of white powder), and I get right in his face. "You already rented out my room, didn't you? You think I did something that I didn't do, don't you? And now you can't prove it, but you already rented out my room. Is there anything legal or moral or right about that at all? Huh, is there? Where is my stuff?"

As I'm talking, my glasses keep falling askew, so I take them off and then put them back on, as though for emphasis. He has no answer, except that he's working on getting me my stuff. I go out into the rainy night to make some arrangements, and my dog outside is barking. One of the neighbors says from his doorway "and shut that damn dog up too!" so I go back to the house. There are several dogs there, and I'm not sure which one was barking, and they've stopped now, so I'm talking gently to the dogs, asking who was barking, when another neighbor, and small Asian man, points a flashlight at my dog (a small fuzzy tan puppy) and says "that one".

Since all my stuff is gone, I don't have a leash for him, but the Asian man has one, so I ask him if I can borrow it. He hesitates suspiciously, and doesn't answer. I tell him I will bring it back and drop it off, on my most sincere promise, but he still doesn't seem to believe me. I say "can you believe that prick just kicked me out of the house for no reason and he still has my stuff? I bet you think I'm some druggie, and I'm just lying to you and everybody else, and everything I say is just a bunch of crap. Well it isn't, you are all wrong."