Podcast Host (24:29)
And we're back. Lottie sorted through her stack of paperwork, brought a fresh sheet to the top. Now let's talk rent and marketing. How much are you charging for this dump? When someone muttered a number from a dark corner, she turned slowly in her seat until she faced them. Are you kidding me? Why not just put up a blinking neon sign that says this is a trap? Francis coughed. Excuse me. That low rent figure has been instrumental in getting applicants through the door. No one can resist, right? They got through the door, but do they stay? Silence answered her and she nodded. That's what I thought. You can't make it astronomical, but you have to make it believable. A second floor ghost spoke up. There is the matter of the caretaking. That makes it more realistic, doesn't it? Lottie frowned. Caretaking? You mean Lurch over there? She jabbed a thumb at Frances. The ghost cleared its throat. No, it's part of the rent arrangement. The tenants are responsible for light caretaking of Mama. Lottie set down her stack on the couch beside her. Who the fuck is Mama? Her gaze fell on the web fingered infant who shook her head. Don't look at me. No relation. The resident of the third floor bathtub spoke up wetly. Well, it's just what we call her. She doesn't leave the attic rooms, so she doesn't bother anyone. But she requires three meals a day. Lottie crossed her arms. That shit's gotta go too. They gaped at her. The hanged Ghost cleared her throat. What? What should we do with her? Once again, not my problem. I'm just telling you, no one but no one is going to want to rent a place that comes with an unseen attic roommate who needs babysitting. People like to feel comfortable and enjoy themselves in their homes. That means being able to relax, unwind, be themselves, screw. And no one is going to want to have sex with that hanging over them. She doesn't. Doesn't matter. Get rid of her. Moving on. Now. Where are you advertising? At first no one answered. As everyone struggled to catch up to the image of a mansion without Mama. There was a guilty amount of relief in the picture. The usual places, said Frances. At last that eyebrow went up again. Meaning where? More glances were exchanged and Frances petered out under her gaze. The twins spoke up in unison. The newspaper Classified ads, of course. And the community message board. Lottie whipped around to look at them, raised a finger again. Do not, under any circumstances do that again. You're separate people, no matter what tired tropes have told you so act like it. The girls exchanged stunned looks, then slowly let go of one another's hands. Lottie nodded and looked back at Francis. Newspaper Classifieds, for fuck's sake. The city paper, at least. Francis lowered his gaze. No, there's a free community paper. Lottie dropped her head into her hands, eyes squeezed shut. You're advertising in this neighborhood? Is that wrong? Asked the giant. Lottie lifted her head. When was the last time any of you looked outside? Do you know where you live? The median income in this area. Francis smiled back. On safe ground, of course. That's been a key to our success. These people have never been inside a mansion like this, let alone lived in one. And to be able to do so for less than the lowest rent of one of those homes that surround us. Why every time we post one of those flyers with the little strips of paper, every last one gets taken. A wizened corpse tapped its chest. Those were my idea, it said with a grin. Lottie massaged her temples. These are working class people. Folks who've struggled with poverty, addiction, cycles of abuse and neglect. Not all of them, but everyone here has had to work for what they have, and every one of them is going to give the side eye to something that seems too good to be true. They might be tempted, they might even come look, but in the end, their sense of self preservation is going to save them. The room was silent, the words Fuck this shit ringing in their ears, the phrase they'd heard far too often of late. As unpleasant as it was to hear, Lottie was right. And this was, after all, why they'd called a special. The giant straightened his great shoulders. Okay then, tell us what to do. Any of you even remotely familiar with social media? Francis shook his head and began to answer when one of the twins raised a hand. He glared at her, but she shrugged. A kid dropped a phone once. I don't use much data and it was one of those pay as you go ones. So I've just been adding like five gigs every six months and there's literally nothing else in to do. Lottie gave her a nod. Good. So your targets are going to be easier to find on social media venues. You can narrow by geography if you want, but honestly, you'd be surprised how many of these types of people are willing to pick up and move their whole lives cross country just to take advantage of a windfall. She took out her own phone and began scrolling one twin at either shoulder. Several other residents gathered behind her. Okay, see, here's what I'm talking about. Amber Bradley. Look at the number of tweets she has complaining about waitstaff and food service. Her fucking breakfast taco was delayed three minutes and she's literally crying over it. Lottie scrolled further. You can tell she's never had a real job in her life, but there's tons of photos of expensive vehicles, vacations, meals that cost more than my commissions. The vampire frowned. So, rich people? Lottie shook her head. No. Entitled people. There's a difference. You're looking for folks so privileged they don't even realize they are the kind of people who won't think it's sketchy to be able to rent a whole friggin mansion for a few hundred bucks a month. And you don't even have to charge rent if you want to go another angle, pick a specific target, then tell them they've got an inheritance. From who? Asks The Hanged Ghost. Her brow furrowed, Lottie laughed. Who cares? Make up someone old and obscure. Tell them they were chosen because, oh hell, I don't know. Make up something to make them feel special. The twins were scrolling through the feed. Ugh, this woman looks awful. Look at how long she rants because they misspelled her name at Starbucks. Sounds like an ideal tenant. She stood, brushed off her bottom, and handed her work to the Hanged Ghost. I think that about covers it. That's a detailed list and there's more information in the booklet. Y' all have a lot of work to do, but this place has potential. The giant stepped forward, holding out an envelope stuffed with cash. Ms. Fraser, I can't tell you how much we appreciate you coming out. Lottie stuffed the cash into her purse. You just did, she said and shook his hand. I want to see this place in tip top shape next time I drive by. I have other properties in this neighborhood, you know. Know. They all gathered to wave her off, and as Lottie adjusted her blouse in the reflection of Rakiya's window, she shook off the chill and dank of the haunted mansion. Fuck that shit, she muttered, then gave a wide smile as she placed another of her signs in the mansion's weed choked yard and Long live the Queen of the Southeastern quadrant. Yeah, I don't know. That's the story. The end of Fuck this shit Manor. Okay, mostly I like the story because it's fun and it was fun to try and do voices for it. But also I love that modern, even goofy science fiction has a decent or genre fiction, whatever the fuck, has decent class analysis in it. I love that. It's just the talking about being like. You think people, just because they're desperate, they're gonna move into this place? No, the people who you can actually fuck over are the rich people who think they're entitled to shit. It's so good. And I love a clever story as long as it's well written and what Laurel Hightower, the author of Fuck the Shit Manor, has to say about it. The haunted house is now and forever will be my favorite horror trope. I love ghosts and ghoulies and the atmosphere of a good haunting. But there are a couple of key points that every story must address. The first is why the hell do these characters stay in the damn house? I love seeing how authors approach this. One of my favorites being the film His House. The main characters literally have nowhere else to go. The other question that started bugging me was how on earth do these people keep ending up in these places? A classic, cozy, weird inheritance take can certainly be done well, and a lot of times that's enough. But in the age of smartphones and Uber, it gets less and less believable that a person would just drop their whole life to move into crazy aunt so and so's isolated mansion with creaky floors, footsteps in the night, and that one door you. You absolutely can't open. Oh my God. What were you thinking? It's insulting to those of us who grew up struggling or working class that we'd just be so grateful we'd serve ourselves up on a platter to whatever lurks behind closed doors. If anything, we're liable to side eye anything that seems too good to be true. But ghosts gotta eat. So how do they adapt to changing times and attitudes? I loved exploring this concept in a tongue in cheek fashion with Fuck this Shit Manor. I initially wrote it in 2020, gifted to a wonderful but now defunct website for does the dog die in this? I'm thrilled to see it live again as the residents of the manor put up their own struggle for survival. And Laurel's bio is. Laurel Hightower grew up in Kentucky, attending college in California and Tennessee before returning home to horse country where she lives with her husband, son and a rescue pit bull. She works as a paralegal in a mid sized firm wrangling litigators by day and writing at night. A bourbon and beer girl, she's a fan of horror movies and true life ghost stories. She is the author of Whispers in the Dark, Crossroads and Below, and co edited the charity anthology We Are Wolves as well as the Dead An Identity Horror Anthology. Her short fiction has appeared in several publications and you can keep up with her work at her website, which is laurel hightower.com and laurel is spelled L A U R e l and Hightower is H I G H T o w e r.com Anyway, that's the book club and we've got a special treat for you next week, but I'm not going to tell you what it is because you're going to have to wait. And don't worry. In my heart, every month is spooky month. Bye everyone. It Could Happen Here as a production of Cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from Cool Zone Media, visit our website coolzone media.com or check us out on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can find sources for It Could Happen Here updated monthly@coolzonemedia.com sources thanks for listening. Pro drivers live for race day, but for small business owners, every day is race day. That's that's why going pro with Lenovo Pro matters One on one advice IT solutions and customized hardware powered by Intel Core Ultra processors keep your business on the right track. Business goes pro with Lenovo Pro Sign up for free@lenovo.com pro.
