Wolf rummaged to the cushions of the stained (and possibly bedbug-infested) couch he was sleeping on ever since the landlord padlocked out of his loft space over a matter of unpaid rent.
A guy he used to work with at the coffee place (before he was fired for coming to work drunk) told him he could stay as long as he needed to get back on his feet but, three months in, all of a sudden he’s all like “you should probably start looking for a new apartment.” Wolf thought he was cool, but I guess not, right?
Wolf found enough nickels for a PBR and a shot, put on his least stained shirt, and headed down to Shotzy’s happy hour. Bellying up to the bar, who should walk in but his old friend Dog, who he hadn’t seen since their old band broke up.
Dog was barely recognizable, wearing handmade engineer boots with a vintage toggle-coat over his arm and a artisan-made leather satchel over his shoulder. He noticed Wolf leaning on the bar and his expression froze, before forcing an embarrassed smile.
Wolf asked what Dog had been doing and Dog breathlessly replied,“After that last tour, I met this amazing girl. She convinced me to go back to school and finish my degree. I’m working as an art director for an interactive design marketing firm. We’re getting married sometime next year. We’re still working out our letter-pressed save-the-date card. You know how it is.”
Wolf convinced Dog to buy another round and asked if he was still playing the drums.
“There isn’t really room in our apartment for my gear, so she put them in storage. I don’t have time, anyway, between work and our wedding planning and our home-brew kombacha business start-up…”
Wolf wished he hadn’t finished his drink quite so fast.
“I’m meeting my girlfriend here actually. Her burlesque trapeze class is up the street. We’re going to meet some of her friends at that locally-sourced foraged plant vegetarian restaurant and then taking in a screening of amateur feminist video documentaries.”
Dog’s iphone bleeped and he jumped out of his seat as his girlfriend texted that she was ready to go. Now.
“Great running into you, man,” walking to the door, Dog said, “You’d be a lot better off with someone, Wolf. You can’t live like this forever.”
Wolf was scrambling to finish the dregs of Dog’s glass, but reflecting on what he said, thought, “Fuck that shit.”
He later died in an alley, kicked to death by a drunken bachelorette party he catcalled one time too many.
April Fools! There’s no such thing as tumblr rent.
Back to normal Hipster Animals.
Tumblr is raising my internet-rent 3000% so Hipster Animals has to move to a less gentrified address. Here’s who’s moving in now that the Times declared it the hot new neighborhood.
I just heard Tumblr is raising my internet-rent 3000%! I can’t afford that!
Hipster Animals has been priced out of the neighborhood to make room for lots of RiteAids and Chase banks. Here are your new neighbors.
Hipster Animals has been running now for a full year, but I just heard Tumblr is raising my internet-rent 3000%! I can’t afford that!
Hipster Animals has to find a less gentrified address, I guess. This will eventually turn into a Chase bank. Here are your new neighbors.