When Yulia died and made me promise to throw her ashes in the city fountain that stood right in front of the aristocrats division, I said I'd do it. I didn't particularly feel any love for the 80 year old woman, but I did have a sense that I needed to repay my debt to her for letting me live with her somehow. The fact that only once had I taken a solemn vow while holding her shaking hand did she tell me I needed to dispose of her ashes in the broad afternoon daylight. While I inwardly cringed at the task, I felt it impolite to show a discourteous face to a quickly fading elderly woman. I held her hand and stroked her hair like a good little country lad should, reading her the traditional biblical scripture because Father Heralding would have nothing to do with her after her last outburst during his homily about passover.
She'd stood up, cane clutched in her gnarled fingers, and demanded that the “cute alter boy on the left” come to bed with her- to my horror and the horror of the rest of the congregation. I guarantee no one possessed more horror than myself sitting next to this crazed woman or the poor boy holding a candle at the left of the alter. The proclamation didn't stop at just that, however, she did go on to inform us all that “I haven't been bleedin' fer 27 years! Best birth control guarantee yer gonna get!”
Suffice it to say, I haven't been able to face any individual of the church since. I also, try as I may, have not been able to remove the terrifying imagery from my mind.
When Yulia finally breathed her last, my hand still in hers, I unceremoniously forgot myself and screamed until the neighbors below us thumped on their ceiling with their broom kept for the purpose, yelling at me to “shut my bloody trap.” I snatched my hand away from the dead woman, showing no respect for the dead I didn't even have the guts to close her eyes. Earl and Bea, the aforementioned loving neighbors, either had a sense of what had happened or simply didn't have the heart to snap at me today, for usually they had much more colorful commentary. Being shocked as I was, it took me several more moments to gather myself enough to realize I should call the morgue- problem was, Yulia hadn't installed lightbulbs and electric lamps in her apartment until she took me in and I was too shaky to carry candles. She hadn't ever invested in a telephone.
This revelation prompted me to prepare myself for a trip downstairs; the only other tenant that lived on the top attic floor was a terrifying beast of a bar hag by the name of Sophie. Twice now Sophie had simultaneously tried to abduct me for unknown reasons and nearly kill me. Drunker than rat bathed in brandy, she'd slurred flirtatious dialogue, grabbed my arm, and passed out on top of me. If Johnny Drainpipe, resident maintenance man and chimney sweep, hadn't heard all 300 lb of her hit the dingy floorboards I'd've been as dead as Yulia was now. I've never quite figured out if Sophie was trying to drag me to her bed or to her oven, as she continuously said I was sweet enough to eat and with the pure size of her I wasn't about to put it past her to test the theory.
With a dead body behind me and a whale of a hooker in front of me, the only way left to go was down. 15 steps on the staircase to the third floor, 5 of them with a permanent creak since the day they were installed, 3 of them completely missing, and the last one so warped it bowed enough in the middle to nearly hit the floor. It never managed to break, even with Sophie making the trek to and from her room. Down the stairs and to the right, behind the only door in the complex painted a different color than the rest stood Earl and Bea, the most picturesque couple in the district. Earl worked down at the shipyard, his bald head black as an eight-ball from the belching coal steam and dressed in his stretched and sweaty coveralls. Bea was missing all her front teeth and didn't smile much, but she at least was smaller than her husband and still had a full head of shiny blonde curls. She worked down the street at a laundromat, completely removing the work of anyone needing to wash clothes by taking them, ticketing them, and loading them in and out of the noisy washers herself. She once even told me with wide eyes about a coworker that had all her hair ripped out by the hand-cranked wringer dryers- an efficient clothes dryer hadn't been developed that even came close to working as well as the wringers yet.
I raised my hand and knocked on their door, avoiding a spreading mold that was working it's way across the surface.
“Ehhh, whatdya want? I ain't buyin no more o' them bread heaters- makes all the bread crispy n black!” Earl had a way with words that left room to be admired. Bea was only second to none in that department, interrupting her husband:
“Damn thing is called a toaster! TOASTER! On a 'cause it TOASTS the bread! Works fine!”
As thrilling as the toaster debate was-I hadn't ever tried one, for the record- I needed to reach a working phone.
“I-it's me-” I started, but I didn't make it very far in my introduction.
“Ehhh? Allie? That you, boy? Shudda said somthin sooner!” the door swung outward, another  aspect unique to Earl and Bea's place, and I found myself sprawled on the hallway floor with a steady stream of scarlet running down my face.
“Ehhh? Wheredya go, boy? Allie?” Earl stood in the doorway while Bea pushed herself past his impressive girth, slapping a hand to her forehead.
“Oh ya damn numbskull, look whatya did to poor Allie! Come'ere 'oney,” she pulled me upwards with more strength than would be expected from someone nearly as petite as I am, “aw lookitya, yer cute little mop of hair all messy now, lessee now where'd yer hat go?” She put her hands on her hips before spotting the olive cap I usually wore laying halfway down the hall. She turned back to Earl, who was still in the doorway making a striking imitation of a gorilla lost in the sahara. She gave a two handed shove against his chest, making him stumble backwards into the apartment.
“Ya big galloot, go get somethin so Allie here can wipe all that blood off 'is face, 'n make some beans er somethin on a 'cause we have company! I'mma gonna go catch that 'at o' 'is on a 'cause 'e just don't look right without that 'at on 'im,” Bea gave her best menacing finger wag at him before marching determinedly down the hall for my cap.
I took this all as my cue to enter their blasting zone one-room apartment. I held my hand up to my nose to try not to drip blood on the carpet, but I suspected that even if I had, there would be no telling considering the nauseating color of that floor.  
“Ehhh? This'll do ya, right boy?” Earl waved a handkerchief in front of my eyes. Against my better judgement I took it, trying to ignore how dirty it was and that Earl had picked it up off the floor. It smelled disgusting so I decided not to breathe for as long as I could. He busied himself with a large can of beans, plugging in a large contraption that took up most of the kitchen counter.
“Ehhh, Bea went 'n bought one a these newfangled doohickeys, s'posed to open up yer cans for ya instead a that chinsy lil' wrench lookin' thing,” he paused to let out a hefty grunt and bang the can on the lip of the sink, for who knows how he thought it may have assisted him, and squinted his beady little eyes at it. “'Course, thing makes a damn racket 'n hardly works, 'n I ain't girly enough to sit 'n read the 'structions for it,” here he interrupted himself again for another manly display of strength by denting the side of the can, “ehhh there we go, gotta get er all softened up!”
I didn't add anything, but my blood was at least clotting and nearly staunched. I tried my best to give a weak smile to Earl over his victory over the 25 lb can of beans, and whatever I managed to display on my face pleased him enough that he stood as tall and proud, as much as he could with the large hump in his back, and mounted the can in what he earlier explained as the can opener. It was taking Bea a lot of time to simply retrieve my hat. I began to wonder if she had some sort of twisted idea in her head about male bonding. I attempted to bring up what I was really here for.
“Actually, Earl, I just-”
“Ehhh, hold that thought boy, I'm flippin' the switch!” And, as a man of his word, Earl hit the switch on the can opener. The most hideous noise I'd ever heard in my life came roaring out from it, a sound that was like 3,000 baby hares tied to a set of train tracks and a full pound military issue tank was barreling towards them. Oh, and all of them had been fed a mixture of toy kazoos, harmonicas, and steam whistles, and the sounds came out along with the rabbit screams. I had never been assaulted by such a cacophony, but be it either good or bad, the exertion put on the electricity grid was apparently enough to make the generator in the basement give up on living.
“Ehhh?! Aw dammit, 'n the beans aren't open yet!” Although I couldn't see anything farther than a foot in front of me, I heard Earl pounding an angry fist into the wall. I was as consoling as they come.
“It's okay, Earl, I wasn't hungry at all anyway. I was just wondering-”
“EARL I AIN'T SMELLIN NO BEANS!” The stomping of feet made the floor shake. I felt my hat returned to my messy blonde hair, and it was a comfort to have it back. The storm that was brewing due to Bea's return was not comfortable in the least. Mind you, I had not once forgotten about Yulia cooling off in her bed upstairs, eyes still open and tongue lolled out.
“EHHH?! Well it was YER DAMN MACHINE, WOMAN!” Earl was probably popping a few blood vessels right now, if only the lights were in working order I could have seen the rodent running viciously on the wheel in his head. As for Bea, I could hear the screech of the unoiled cogs.
“Ya bought the damn thing! 'N now ya broke the elek-eelek-elerk-”
“Electricity?” I helpfully piped up, if only so Bea would move on. I just needed to use the phone, to call the morgue, to get Yulia to the crematorium, to get her ashes, and throw them in the aristocrat's fountain.
“Good on ya, Allie! Such a good lad, must be so nice with the lasses- EARL YA BROKE THE ELERTRICKITY!” While the happy couple fought, I inched my way back towards the door. I was afraid any sudden movements would make them both turn on me like rabid warpigs. While the squabbling continued offending my ears and other senses, I lost my composure and screamed at them both.
“PHONE. I JUST. NEED. THE PHONE.”
I panted with the effort, rubbing my temples with my fingertips. I'll never know if they both turned to look at me, but Bea finally did reply after getting over her shock.
“Well, 'oney, I'd say ya could, but Earl 'ere broke the elerk-elek-” I waved my hand to silence her, until I realized there was no way for for to see it. I was appalled. I'd withstood all of these two in order to use their phone, but the power was out for the entire building now. I'd have to find somewhere else with a phone.
“Oh... yes, you're right. Um, well, thank you for your... hospitality, but I really need to find a phone, so-” I felt a huge hand smack into my back, and I choked on the last of my words.
“Ehhh? Well now, I got a car ya know, ya need a ride somewheres?”
I thought back to a time long ago, when cars first came out and Earl had acquired one due to his job at the shipyard. It was a beastly machine with two seats, a wheel, and two foot petals. It released a toxic exhaust that was found to be harmful to newborn babies, and it trundled down the cobbled streets like some sort of steam powered bear, the flatulence of it smelling as bad as the swamp the cereal factory filtered its waste into. On that day, I had made a vow to myself, to never be caught dead or alive in a car.  
I made my hasty excuses and goodbyes to Earl and Bea, much too glad to close the moldy door behind me. For Yulia's sake and my own, I still needed to find a phone.