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Cost of Living Crisis: I’m Paying $950 per Month Just To Be One of the People Under the Stairs

When I moved to Los Angeles to make it as a musician or actor or influencer, I had no illusions about how hard it would be. I knew I would need to struggle to make ends meet, and fully accepted that I would probably only be able to live in a “bad” neighborhood.

I’m busting my ass off just to be imprisoned in a basement with a bunch of semi-cannibalistic ghouls as part of a deranged murder couple’s sex game.

My landlords, who only go by Mommy and Daddy, are exploitative class traitors at best.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the abysmal living conditions. The basement is dirty and full of rats, which is the primary food source for me and the other roommates since we aren’t allowed to leave.

As a tenant/captive with no car, in an area with limited public transportation and a basement with no chance of escape, my employment prospects are extremely limited. Me and a couple of my roommates, Fool and Roach, get by selling Cutco knives over the phone, and what little money we scrap gets eaten on the 1st when Daddy comes down with his gimp suit and his shotgun to collect rent. It’s like the system is designed to keep us poor!

I’m also not allowed to have pets, which is bullshit because the landlords have a Rottweiler, who has been trained to maul us should we find ourselves upstairs by the way.

If a lightbulb burns or breaks guess what, that part of the basement is just dark forever now because these fuckers never fix shit. Unless the incinerator stops working, Daddy is always right on top of that death trap, which I’m pretty sure is WAY out of code.

I’m really hoping it doesn’t come to this, but if things get much worse, I might have to call my parents for help!