New Neighbour

New Neighbour

"Look, I'm telling you I already reset the router, it's still slow!"

"Alright, Mister McHenry, let me access your router's admin profile remotely."

"Finally, thank you."

Nigel exhaled through gritted teeth. The forty minutes of being on hold was one thing, but another twenty minutes of stepping through stuff he already tried before they'd bother taking an actual look was even more frustrating. Trying to keep the relatively decent monthly price he was grandfathered in on was a delicate balancing act as it was, and he loathed calling them.

"Alright Mister McHenry, may I ask how many devices you have connected to your wireless network?"

"Okay, let me see, my PC, my phone, a Playstation, a work laptop. Should be four active connections, and maybe some old connections from my friends' phone."

"Well according to the router itself, there are twenty-two devices currently connected."

"What?!"

"Would you like me to talk you through configuring your password to keep unwanted connections from occurring?"

"Uh, no thanks, I think I know how to do it."

"Okay then, my name was Lisa, thank you for calling SkyCast-"

He hated to do it, but he hung up on her in frustration. The problem seemed obvious, but for the company's dumb policy of not letting you access your own router's settings. He'd be changing the password of course, but perhaps he should look into who was doing this and maybe talk it out with them.

Starting with the other three apartments on his floor, he checked with the Kondaszewkis, who only had wired internet, Mike Fitzroy, whose own router appeared to be working and his phone showed its connection to it, and Georgia Dunbar, who didn't actually have internet, but gave him a vital clue that she saw a bunch of moving boxes being brought up to the top floor, so it was possible the vacant apartment on that floor had been let.

With this testimony in hand, Nigel went upstairs to try and resolve the problem. Sure enough, the super's note about the vacant apartment had been taken down. So he knocked. He realised he could hear music coming from it, so he knocked harder. The music finally stopped. It took a while, but the door eventually opened.

"Hello, I'm-"

For a moment, Nigel didn't notice anyone. It was like the door had opened on its own.

"Hey, down here." Came a nasally voice.

Nigel looked down, and had no reaction to what he was seeing. A squat greyish-white creature, up to his knees in height and as wide as the door, supported on short stubby legs with long noodly arms. He had large black eyes, and curiously prominent lips and nostrils.

"It's rude to stare, you know. Never seen a monster before?"

"Uh, no, not in person." Nigel responded mechanically. "Wait, a monster? Like, from Mount Ebott?"

"Yeah. I'm Jerry." He extended an arm.

"Um, Nigel." He shook it gingerly. His hand came away with a thick residue. "Oh, do you produce slime or something?"

"Nah," Said Jerry. ", I just ran out of tissues and blew my nose with my hands."

Nigel suppressed a shudder, curious about his neighbour. "I didn't think monsters had moved in with humans. Haven't you only been around a few months?"

"Yeah, but it's weird. Every monster I moved in with had to raise their rent a couple of weeks in. Can't imagine why." He absently picked his nose. "So I'm hoping human prices are more stable."

"I...see." Said Nigel. "Well, random question, do you use the internet much?"

"Oh yeah, I signed into the building's wi-fi. It's a bit slow."

"And, uh, what made you think the building had wi-fi?"

"Oh, this isn't the McHenry building?" Jerry scratched what must have been an armpit.

"As far as I know, the building doesn't have a name. I'm Nigel McHenry, I think you jumped on my network by mistake."

"I see. Guess I'll need that VPMN after all. Well can I keep on yours until then?"

Nigel was surprised at how forward he was about this.

"If it's only for a week or two, okay. But can you keep it to a couple of devices? You're kinda throttling my speed."

Jerry looked incredulous. "But how am I supposed to turn off the lights and order my coffee machine to start up from my bed?"

****

Nigel's internet was definitely more stable after meeting Jerry, though he made a private note not to shake his hand without checking in future. He thought that might be the end of it, but the next evening there was a knock on the door. Jerry walked in as soon as he opened it, picking at something in his teeth.

"Hey Nigel. I forgot to get milk this morning, can I borrow yours?"

"Well, if you-"

"Cool, thanks. I'll square with you later."

He waltzed over to the fridge and grabbed the nearly-full carton.

"Ugh, semi-skimmed milk sucks."

He walked out, taking the offending milk with him anyway. Nigel was so taken aback he didn't say anything. Two minutes later, the rhythmic thumps of a drum kit vibrated Nigel's ceiling.

He wouldn't have minded the drumming, except it went on for four hours. And it was still going on as bedtime approached. So up he went and knocked on the door. It took about five tries before the drumming paused and the door finally opened.

"What do you want? Do you know what time it is?"

Nigel raised an eyebrow at the lack of self awareness.

"Look, can you try and practice your drums more quietly? I have work in the morning."

"Okay, whatever. Oh, hang on a minute."

Jerry retreated into his apartment for a moment, and then returned.

"Figured I should return this."

It was the milk carton. Judging by its weight, there was maybe a dribble of milk left.

Nigel tried to look polite. "Thanks, I guess."

Jerry looked pleased with himself. "Don't mention it, it's just the right thing to do."

Nigel went back to his apartment and got ready for bed. The drums appeared to have ended for the night, mercifully. As he settled down, he remembered an errand he'd have to run at lunchtime, and wanted to confirm where the shop in question was, so he turned to his phone. The map loaded painfully slowly. He suspected Jerry had moved on to other activities.

****

After two more days of late night drumming sessions, Nigel wasn't sure what to do. Talking to Jerry directly seemed the obvious thing, but he was worried about some sort of monster taboo that would cause the conversation to spin wildly out of control. It was then he vaguely recalled that the Monsters had set up some kind of embassy, and perhaps he could get some advice there.

A perfunctory internet search gave him the address, and he went over on the next available Saturday. It was his first time seeing more than a single monster, and it was just as weird as he imagined. All sorts of shapes and sizes. From six inches long to several feet taller than him. Scaly, hairy, metallic. Almost human-shaped to vague blobs. For the most part despite the fangs and claws everyone was friendly, so it wasn't nearly as intimidating as he feared. And the weirdest one of all was the one they identified as the ambassador, for they looked exactly like a young human child.

He launched into his story immediately. "I want to talk about Jerry."

Clear understanding spread across their face. They briefly looked round to a large flower by the window, baking in the sun.

"We had wondered where he got to." They even sounded like a kid.

"So you know who I'm talking about?"

"Of course. Everyone knows Jerry."

"It's sort of hard to explain what the problem is." Continued Nigel. "It's not like he's being dangerous or anything, but he can be...well..."

"Annoying?" A shrewd smile played on their face.

"I didn't want to say it, but yeah. I mean, his manners are one thing, but it's more the way he takes things for granted. Asking and then assuming you said yes. I wouldn't even mind if he actually let me say yes! If he was human, I'd tell him to cut it out, but I didn't want to, I dunno, create a diplomatic incident or something. Is that a cultural thing among monsters?"

"Don't worry. It's a Jerry thing amongst Jerry. He can be a jerk."

Hearing the ambassador denigrate one of their own was a surprise.

"So, I'm okay to tell him to cut it out?"

They shrugged. "You can try. Odds are he doesn't listen for long. In my experience there isn't much you can do."

Nigel felt annoyed. "So we just put up with him? Or get the landlord to evict him?"

The ambassador raised their hands to try and disarm the thought. "I never said that, and I hope you don't feel you have to do that. The thing about Jerry is, well, he's good for it."

"For what?"

"It. Anything. He'll make you mad when he picks his nose and then shakes your hand, and feel free tell him to cut that out, but he does have a good side. You have to be patient for it to come through, but you'll be surprised."

Nigel frowned. "Sounds like a lot of work."

"Well, sometimes worthwhile things take work. Look, if he's still a hassle, you can call here and I can try and talk to him. Or I can get the King to pay a visit if it's a school night."

"Thank you." Then he processed what he heard. "Wait, a school night? How old-"

He never got an answer. The door burst open, and an orange lizard with glasses raced in and launched into an excited stutter-filled ramble about how she had figured out how to find "him" inside the "load", and how "he" could help them get "it" and also help address the "love problem". Even fully appreciating his complete ignorance of the context, this was a weird thing to overhear. It captured the ambassador's complete attention however. They gave a hasty apology, thrust a business card into his hand, and they followed the lizard out the door, looking determined.

Unsure what to do, Nigel thought he saw some movement by the window, but as he glanced, only the flower was there, perfectly still.

****

A few days after his trip to the embassy, Nigel had assembled a basket of washing he needed to do, and took the elevator down to the laundry machines. One was broken, but the others were all occupied. This was unusual, it wasn't often seven people would wash their clothes at the same time.

He tried again first thing in the morning. All seven machines still had the same loads in them, the owners hadn't claimed them. Annoyed, Nigel realised he'd have to go to the laundrette on his way to work. So he took the bag down to the car park and put it in the trunk. He had just gotten on and put on his seatbelt when the passenger door opened.

"Oh, finally."

Jerry clambered in and squeezed his wide body in the seat next to him.

"J-Jerry?! What are you doing?!"

"Well I was talking to Georgia and she said you work on Grover Street, and I've got an appointment there, so I figured you could give me a lift."

"Well, why didn't you ask me earlier?"

A long noodly arm was scratching behind him. "I got sidetracked. I had to start my third washing cycle."

"Your third- You mean those clothes in the laundry room are yours?"

"Yeah. What's the deal?"

Nigel had not seen Jerry wear a scrap of clothing since he first met him.

"Well, why do you need to wash them repeatedly?"

"I have sensitive skin. You should see the rashes I get-"

"Uh, no thanks. Look, I can give you a lift, but can you ask in future?"

"Sure, whatever. I'll square you up later."

As they drove into town, Jerry extracted a jam donut from a hitherto unseen bag and started eating it. Powdered sugar fell over the passenger seat. Nigel focused on the road as he tabulated his thoughts.

"Wow, you drive slow. I should have got the bus."

Nigel exhaled in unnoticed annoyance. When Jerry got out of the car, sure enough, there was a streak of jam on the seat too.

****

He didn't see much of Jerry after the car ride. He heard a fair bit however, as the drumming practice seemed to intensify. To his credit Jerry didn't play past ten at night anymore, but it somehow felt like he had to practice louder to make up for the lost time, and over the next week it was hard to concentrate on anything. Knocking on the door got him a reduced volume for maybe twenty minutes, so Nigel found himself doing a lot of stair related exercise that week.

Finally, Nigel paid a visit to the neighbours on his floor, just to make sure he hadn't gotten the wrong idea. Sure enough, each of them seemed to have experienced Jerry really overstepping boundaries with borrowing stuff before they could even say yes. And of course the drums were a problem too. He was the only one to have internet problems though. Mike suggested they form a deputation and ambush him, and Nigel liked the idea, but he wanted to take the ambassador up on their offer first.

Unfortunately this didn't pan out like he hoped. Calling the number on their business card got him through to a high-pitched slightly screechy voice claiming to be the ambassador's secretary, though Nigel didn't recall any secretary desks when he had visited them. Clearly uninterested in his issues, the secretary irritably explained that the ambassador was still away working on whatever the doctor had told them about, even though in his personal opinion it was all a waste of time and it wouldn't work anyway and they should have just done what he said way back when. Nigel only really heeded the parts relevant to him, that any dealings with Jerry would be on his own for the time being.

But that could wait for tomorrow. He still needed to marshal the others on the floor for the deputation. Struck with a craving for evening cereal, he poured out a bowl and went to get the milk. Another frustration added itself to his list when he could tell by the weight it wouldn't be enough. He should have bought some coming home from work, but he was busy thinking about Jerry. Sighing with resignation, he grabbed his coat, opened the door to head to the supermarket and-

Froze as his foot connected with something on the ground.

He looked down. He had knocked over a carton of milk with his foot, but a second carton remained upright. Puzzled, he picked them up, and noticed a piece of paper underneath the second carton.

Just doing the neighbourly thing by making sure we're square for it.

-J

He hadn't expected this. He looked around the corridor. Sure enough, he could see a bag of apples at one door, two loaves of bread at another and...a chess board and baseball bat. He idly wondered what circumstances required that you needed to buy your neighbour sports and game equipment to make up for it. He wasn't even sure Georgia played chess, and was certain she didn't play baseball. Still, relieved he wouldn't have to go out into what looked like heavy rain, he decided to enjoy the cereal.

Thumping came from upstairs again as he ate, but it sounded different. After a moment, Nigel realised Jerry was playing loud music instead of performing loud music. Actually, it sounded pretty good. Surprisingly soothing compared to the earlier drumming.

Nigel stayed up slightly later than usual, hearing as each of his neighbours opened their doors and express surprise at the gifts laid out for them. Georgia sounded delighted, for reasons Nigel couldn't comprehend. That would be a story he'd love to pick up sometime.

****

It was still raining the next day. Having generated dirty clothes faster than usual, Nigel got up early to see if he could wash and dry them before he had to go to work. Fortunately every machine was operational and available. This was as far as his luck held that morning however. Wandering over to his car to get something, Nigel noticed his front tire was completely flat. Opening the trunk to try and get at the tire iron and spare tire, he cursed as he realised the spare was flat too.

He spent twenty minutes trying to pump the tire, but it made no difference, it must have had an outright puncture. Realising he wouldn't have time to try and repair the tire or call the local garage for help before he'd be late for work, he dashed upstairs to get his coat and umbrella, and ran out to get the bus, which would still leave him with a fifteen minute walk to reach his office. It was half-way into town when he realised he had forgotten his washing, and now he'd be leaving it in a machine all day like he was mad at Jerry for. And he'd have a ton of ironing to do when it was finally dry.

The annoyance he felt that day was actually refreshing, as it was mainly at stuff either he was personally responsible for or was beyond anyone's fault. Getting peeved about Jerry had gotten stale. He settled into his job, and after a day of meetings about meetings, he was resigned to walk back out into the rain, which fittingly had only let up that day whenever he had no reason to leave the building.

"Hey, buddy. You Nigel McHenry?"

A human-sized cat was sitting in a car right outside his office's door, a cigarette expertly hanging from his mouth as he spoke. Nigel thought he might have glimpsed him at the embassy.

"Uh, yeah. Can I help you?"

"Need a lift back to your place? Hop in."

Nigel felt wary. "Do you even know where I live?"

"1080 Coriander Street, right?" The cat seemed bored. "Same as Jerry."

A name he recognised that fit the context overcame Nigel's scruples, and he got in. The car had a fourth-or-fifth owner feel to it, but it had a solid roof that protected them from the rain, so he wasn't complaining as they set off.

"So," He cast about for conversation. ", you know Jerry?"

"Well sure. Everyone knows Jerry. I even shook his hand once."

"And, er, how did that work out for you?"

He raised a furry hand and shuddered. "Like I said, once. Not making that mistake again."

"Heh, I can relate."

The cat grinned, cigarette still firmly in position. "He's a jerk, really, but he helped me out of a jam a while back, so I'm doing him a solid."

Nigel raised an eyebrow. "You mean he asked you to give me a lift?"

"Yep. Way he explained it, you gave him a ride a while back and he owed you for it. He saw you run out into the rain this morning."

"Oh."

"Also, he called in another favour, and I have a tire for your car in the trunk. Can't help you switch them, I'll be late for the graveyard shift."

Considering he had been staring down walking in the rain and trying to wrangle a garage to bring him a tire, Nigel couldn't complain. They soon arrived at the apartments, the cat helped him unload the tire and then sped away. Nigel set about replacing the tire immediately. He wondered where the tire came from, for it seemed to click into place with minimal effort. Tired from the effort, he headed back upstairs.

He had completely forgotten about the washing again. At least, until he saw a basket full of neatly folded clothes lying outside his apartment. They even looked ironed. There was a note on top of them.

Hey,

It's rude to hog a washing machine all day you know.

I don't wanna bring it up with the landlord, so just be careful in future, okay?

-J

It seemed Jerry had a curiously magnanimous interpretation of passive-aggressive. Although a more traditional definition sprang to mind as the loud music started up.

****

Next evening, Nigel got home from making sure his spare tire was in good order and checked the mail. He ignored the letter from SkyCast, and noticed a brown envelope with just his name scribbled on it. Inside was a ticket and a note.

Got some tickets from the band, but none of my friends were available. Losers. Figure someone should use them.

Besides, watching me will be awesome.

-J

Nonplussed about the band Jerry mentioned, Nigel examined the ticket. It was for a theater in the nearby city on Saturday, but the show was just a handwriten "MTT", which didn't mean anything to him. It was still a nice gesture, and he thought well of Jerry until he opened the fridge and found a second note in lieu of the butter.

Ran out. I'll square with you later.

-J

He found himself less irritated than he might have been. After all, Jerry was good for it.

Saturday came, and as he entered the theater, he realised several others from the apartments had been the beneficiaries of tickets. Mike looked excited. Besides them, there were few humans in the packed hall. Mike had explained that Monsters got first pick for tickets. They had apparently been given solid gold.

It soon became clear why. The curtain lifted, and a figure that could only be described as glamorous stood in the center of the stage.

"Hello, darlings!"

As the hall erupted into cheers, Nigel realised he recognised him. Mettaton, one of the few monsters he had seen before Jerry came along, albeit on the news. A black and pink robot man who was a wildly popular entertainer. There was even an informal fan club at his office.

Mettaton wasn't alone on stage. A ghost manned a DJ table, a fish floated in mid-air, and on the extreme left of the stage at a massive drumset was Jerry. He was dislodging what looked like a large lump of wax from his ear.

The concert began in earnest, and Nigel found himself enjoying it immensely. It might not be fair to judge a robot's physical abilities, but Mettaton moved with amazing grace and élan, and the passion of his singing was infectious. The fish complimented him with her own voice, and she even had a beautiful solo piece. The ghost expertly switched backing music as was necessary, but Nigel couldn't tell if it was enjoying itself, as it didn't speak.

Jerry was a revelation. Although his fellow performers seemed to be deliberately keeping a wide berth from him, his drumming helped keep the rhythm of the show together as he smashed each drum with a passion not shared by his bored looking face. It seemed practice paid off as it complemented the others perfectly.

After a few really fun hours, Nigel climbed into his car, ready for home. He had just put his seatbelt on when the passenger door opened.

"Hey. Gimme a lift?"

"Oh, Jerry! Uh, sure, you're going my way."

They set off. Jerry fiddled with the radio unbidden, turning the volume up high.

"You were pretty good on stage tonight."

The previously bored face split into a smug smile. But only for a moment.

"I was thinking of quitting. Waaaay too much work playing the drums all the time. And you should see Mettaton's backstage habits. I mean, who'd put up with someone like that?"

As Nigel couldn't help but smirk, another unseen bakery bag appeared in Jerry's hands.

"Uh, could you hold off on eating?" Interjected Nigel. "I just got the car cleaned."

A huge sigh preceded the sardonic reply. "Fine. I guess I can risk having low blood sugar for thirty minutes. No big deal."

Nigel wasn't sure monsters even had blood.

****

"Well, now I want to speak to YOUR manager!"

"Mister McHenry, I'm not authorised to do that. If I'm unable to address your complaints-"

"But it's ridiculous!"

Maybe it had been residual annoyance at Jerry, but Nigel knew he was handling this call less than diplomatically. He didn't care, it felt good to vent, and they were screwing him over.

"Sir, as our service representative explained when you first called, we're just bringing your account into alignment with going rates."

"Going rates?!" He swallowed a derisive laugh. "Not only are you doubling my bill for no reason, you've slapped on another forty dollars for exceeding a data cap I should not have!"

His anger had no effect on the manager of the supervisor of the team lead of the lady he had first contacted. "Sir, I think you'll find that we are investing our revenue in providing you the best internet experience available."

The derisive laugh was vomited back up. "You mean you think you've got me cornered and can charge what you like. What if I cancelled and went over to FoxCom?"

This was a bad card to play. He had made inquiries before phoning SkyCast, and their base rate started at half as much again as his new rate, and maybe a third of the speed. But his frustration had won out.

The manager of the supervisor of the team lead of the lady he had first contacted must have known this. "Mister McHenry, I doubt you'll find the excellent support services SkyCast has to offer with them. I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. Perhaps I could waive part of the data cap fees?"

Part of them? Nope, screw it. "Never mind! Just cancel my account right now!"

He instantly regretted it. He had walked a ten-high hand into a full house.

"Wait, I-"

Too late as a gratingly pleasant response came through. "Alright sir, your internet has been disconnected. Thank you for five years of choosing SkyCast."

Click.

Silence.

"URGH!"

He slammed his fists on the kitchen counter. What was it about dealing with customer service that irritated him so much? And now he'd be without internet for probably weeks while FoxCom took their sweet time figuring out how much they could charge him-

"Awkwarrrd."

He wheeled round. Jerry had let himself into the apartment somehow. He was carrying two tubs of butter.

"Wow, you look like a guy who just screwed up big time." He smirked at the misfortune of it.

Nigel could only sigh. "Yeah. I tried negotiating with my internet provider and it blew up in my face."

"Hah! You suck at this!"

Which reminded Nigel. "I guess this means you're going without internet for a while too. Sorry about that."

Jerry started picking his nose again. "Nah, I'm covered."

"Oh?"

"The VPMN guys came round the other day and hooked me up."

Nigel was curious. "Don't you mean VPN?"

"No, dummy! V-P-M-N. Virtual Private Monster Network. Monster Engineers set it up for us. It's probably better than your SkyFox or whatever the heck you were getting."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Lemme show you." Without waiting for permission, Jerry took Nigel's phone and fiddled with it, before tossing it back. "I can't tell you how good it is to finally get decent wi-fi."

Nigel noticed he was connected to a new network. He experimentally loaded a few pages, and they seemed to appear instantly. Then he tried to play a video, and it loaded in a second. He was amazed.

"Uh, Jerry? Could I sign onto your network until I get sorted?"

A heavy reluctant sigh. "Sure. Only fair I guess. And can I borrow some milk again?"

Without waiting, he grabbed one of the cartons he had bought earlier and walked out.

Nigel enjoyed an evening of amazing internet. Faster and more stable than what he had been enjoying that morning. A curious thing that took a bit of tweaking to resolve was the network seemed to load each new internet page to a news website that focused on monster news. Nigel glanced at a headline talking about the "Ambassador's New Miracle", accompanied by a picture of a large monster with wild curly horns who looked like he was weeping with joy as he hugged a small figure. Was it another monster? Or was that the ambassador? He couldn't make it out and he didn't dwell on it.

The ultimate test was when he downloaded a game on his Playstation, and despite being enormous, it took maybe five seconds before it started to install. By bedtime that night, he made a decision. The next morning, he knocked on Jerry's door. He looked weird with a surprisingly developed five o'clock shadow.

"What do you want?" He yawned grumpily, showing off yellowing teeth Nigel suspected had little to do with his being a monster.

"Your VPMN. Would it be okay if I, um, just used it from now on instead of getting a new subscription? I can pay for it."

Jerry looked annoyed at being asked to share, but finally he shrugged.

"Eh, fine. Twenty bucks a month."

"T-twenty dollars?!" He had blurted in shock because it was half his old bill, but Jerry seemed to think he thought it a rip off.

"Hey, you're asking a lot of me! How can I expect to reliably stream at 60fps in 4K with you dragging me down?"

"Oh, you watch a lot of streaming stuff? What do you watch it on?"

"My phone."

This felt like such a Jerry answer. Nigel couldn't help but smile.

"Well, sure, I can pay twenty dollars." He extracted a bill from his wallet on the spot and handed it to Jerry, taking care not to touch his hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

As Nigel headed back downstairs, he was in a good mood. It turned out the ambassador had been right. If you could put up with some of his habits, maybe Jerry wasn't so bad.

Heavy drumming started vibrating his ceiling again. Looks like he hadn't quit after all.