pickles and gas

There’s pickles and then there’s gas. Two little sticky words in my brain this morning.

Did you know, that natural gas has no detectable odour, and hence has to go through a process of ‘pickling,’ where odour is added, so that consumers will be able to detect an odour in case of a leak. Sometimes, in the food pickling process, gas is also produced. Gas is the agent for odour. The ability to detect odour is essential to our survival. Some odours are easier to detect than others. For autistics with hypersenses, physical odours are a cinch to identify. However, the scent of a sociopathic abuser is extremely difficult to discern, because the methodology lies in the realm of neurotypical social skills.

First, the food. I do love pickles and preserves. Salty, crunchy, with a tangy under-note. Pickles give off a delightful acerbic odour, sometimes pungent, other times, when mixed with spices and sugar, muted and low. The bitter gourd I’d bought last week was beginning to look a little sad around the edges, so I had to quickly cook it before it became a waste. One of my favourite ways to cook this delicious melon is with salted preserved Chinese vegetable. There are many different varieties of Chinese pickles, this one is made from gai choy, and simply called “salty vegetable” in Chinese. I added the leftover chicken to the combination, and it turned out quite well. The gas (aroma)? Lovely! If one doesn’t over cook the bitter gourd, the slightly bitter odour combines well with that of the salted pickle in a clean, tart way. This effort was good for two meals. All gone now!

Right, now for the gas and pickles of the social kind. By now, if you’ve followed my previous posts, you’d know all about the Wagnerian dramaturge I’d had to endure for the last three months. Well, no, my autistic brain has not finished processing the lunacy, and this is my blog, so here I go again, looking at the prism from as many angles as there are. However, there is no need for undue concern here, this person is a nobody to my emotional consciousness, unlike the various familial specimens that have complicated my inner world. So, I am able to ruminate here with purely intellectual interest, and nothing much more than the superficial trauma of having one’s personal belongings stolen from under one’s own eyes!

Pickles. This person was quite a pickle in her own right. On a word play, she was a ‘fine kettle of fish’ and always in some predicament or other, either created or used as an excuse not to pay her way. Gas. I now know too well, the sociopathic manipulator is full of gas. Embellished and melismatic. The top notes waft through the air, engulfing the new victim with endearing top notes. However, this lasts only as long as it takes to mildly intoxicate, so that the subject is impotent by the time the middle and bottom notes reveal themselves.

And now, for your delight and pleasure, a little musical Question and Answer, or Call and Response, piece, consisting of the recurrent thematic material of the sociopath’s accusations and that of her equally unprincipled lunatic friend. (“Shave and a hair cut – two bits!”) Forgive me, I need to do this to expunge the fumes and rancidity. I am autistic, remember?

The Score (names are altered).

Miss L: What a lying horrible person you are.

Aspie Bunny: A ‘horrible person’ who took this crying woman into my home when she said she needed a place to stay. Who endured her crass, rabid expletive riddled noises and filthy messy habits creating havoc inside my ordered, calm, clean home. It is also extremely difficult to lie with photos and numerous eye witnesses to the facts.

Miss L: What filthy habits?

Aspie Bunny: —- speechless — [There are none so blind as those who will not see?]

Miss L: I paid you $1200 in rent and I paid for the dogs food I even paid for Lucy to be bathed at the groomers.

Aspie Bunny: — speechless— [Do the simple arithmetics. In my memory, it was $900, when she first moved in, which I thought were kind, goodwill gestures. Anyhow, rental was $4,800 + utilities $500, in addition, gifts of a YSL suede handbag, a mobile phone, camera charger, and fridge, washing machine, two mattresses, large rug, plus helping herself to my designer clothes and costume jewellery. Compare this with her own claims : $1,200 + raw meats for the dogs (dinner only, and two of which dogs belonged to her, and most of the meat grew rancid so I had to throw away and feed Panda Lucy’s dried food) – and one grooming session worth $57, for which she refused repayment from me. Any primary school child will be able to compute that it does not come close to any form of fair play whatsoever.]

Miss L: By the way I stood up for you with (the landlord), he badmouthed you very badly to me. That you were crazy and kept asking for things to be fixed and was problematic and a pain. I stood up for you.

Aspie Bunny: I am still on very good terms with the landlord. I don’t really care what he said to her or what she imagined him to say. It’s of no importance to me, even if he did say those things. I don’t need a person of her moral reputation to stand up for me.

Miss L: You couldn’t care less about Panda. God knows why you fostered her at all. I asked you to come with us but you couldn’t be bothered. You knew I was nervous taking her out on my own but didn’t care. I’ve paid over 5k for Panda’s vet bills plus done EVERYTHING. You’ve not cared at all and now blame me for Panda. What a hypocrite.

Aspie Bunny: The only regret I have from this mad mangle is ever giving in to her cajoling and pushing me into letting her adopt Panda. Before she came, I had spent 5 weeks fostering Panda on my own – yes, singlehandedly caring for an extremely nervous, poorly socialised but very lovely greyhound. The adoption group never told me about the extent of her issues, so I was shocked, and it was hard work, yet I did not give up. I helped her transform from a dog who was terrified of going out of the door, to one who was happy to go walking with Lucy and me in the busy Paddington streets. She learned how to play from Lucy, and would cuddle up with Lucy in my bed. Even after Miss L adopted Panda, the dog slept with me and Lucy in my bedroom. I was the one who cuddled her in bed, fed her, cleaned her, brushed her, and walked her every day, sometimes on her own and other times with Lucy. She shared Lucy’s dry food in the mornings, for which I paid. When the meat for dinner was rancid, I would feed her Lucy’s dry food too. On the occasions that Miss L decided to join us, she would hold the leash for a few minutes at the most. Then she would proceed to “puppy park” with her Westie, and leave me to take Panda and Lucy home, the rest of the way. Two greyhounds, one very nervous and strong. Alone. On the very first day Miss L took Panda out on her own (she is her rightful owner after all, isn’t she?), I was very concerned, and asked her if she could manage it. I suggested leaving Panda at home with me, but she waved me off with her grand gesture of bravado, saying she is very experienced with greyhounds, no worries. I couldn’t go with them because I was waiting for my visitor to arrive from the airport. It is a visual scene and soundscape forever locked in my memory with horrific regret. As for vet bills. 1. The dog belongs to legally to her. She insisted on adopting the dog, and when I suggested we could rehome her, she refused, saying she’d fallen in love with the dog. Listen up, I don’t whine about paying Lucy’s vet bills, so I fail to see the logic behind her whinging about paying the bills for her own dog. 2. Regardless, I gathered all my friends and asked them to donate to the Fundrazr that she had set up, which she claimed she handed to Greyhound Rescue, who so kindly stepped in to help with the bills. It was clear from the breakdown in the Fundrazr page that my friends were more generous than those of her contacts. (I have no idea what happened to the money.) 3. I told her frankly right from the start that I had no money. I am nonplussed as to what more she could morally and justifiably ask of me? And a picture speaks a thousand words. All the photographs she has used in her Facebook pages and fund raising material are my photos. She never took a single photograph of her own dog while she was living in my house. Is that not telling? (Yes she had a working camera, I even ordered and paid for the charger as a gift to her.)

The friend, JulieP (jumping maniacally into the fray): I want to let you know that your emails to L were disgusting, just appalling. I had the money to pay you … and got stuck in traffic. I offered to come to your home but you refused. You did not have to wait two hours – I could have come to your place but you said no.

Aspie Bunny: Why do I have reveal to anyone, let alone a complete stranger, where I am presently living? Do I not have the right to privacy? Besides, Miss L has my bank account details, it won’t take more than a few seconds to make an online transfer. She has been owing me this money for over a month now, and repeatedly telling me (I have her manifold emails) that the money is coming, coming, coming. It is not much, just $450. She managed to get money to pay her fancy movers, her new deposit and advance rental on a house that was advertised at $1000 a week, and she had money to eat out and lounge around in cafes all day every day (these were observations by other people, I never thought of it until people mentioned it to me!), she also was telling me about buying a car, not just any car, but what she wanted was an expensive one. Yet, amazingly, she somehow was far too poor to pay for things she wanted and just helped herself to – $450 was all I asked for. Puzzling? If she had any intention to do the decent thing, she would have done so by now. My emails to her were desperate pleas to please pay for some the things she took from me. Just the fridge, washing machine, and mattresses. Nothing more. All the other things I wrote off as freebies (some of what she took she never even bothered to ask me about). Later, when she hurled accusations at me, I initially replied to her defending myself. But I ceased because I realised it was futile. How disgusting and appalling could that be?

The friend JulieP again: For Gods sake instead of being so focussed on yourself why don’t you look at what (Miss L) was going through with Panda and the facts of the situation. Obviously you can’t, everything is all about you.

(Spelling and punctuation her own, not mine, this is unedited.)

Aspie Bunny: — speechless —

End credits: Apart from harassment and frothy hysterical accusations, at the end of the day, the fact remains that she helped herself to my belongings and no payment has come my way. Is this not the actions of a cheat, thief and liar, then? I do not expect this person to make good. What astounds me still is she and her friend have the gall to steal in broad daylight, right under my catatonic Aspie nose, yet she did not just disappear into the mists like most people who steal would do, but she keeps returning with rabid vengeance hurling inane recriminations at me. A study of the sociopathic personality indeed. And not just one but two, in the person of her avid supporter.

The End.


—- Oh wait, what about the Magnum Strawberry Crunch then? —-


One thought on “pickles and gas

  1. Pingback: lost and found | bunnyhopscotch

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