This New York City Apartment Is Perfect. The Only Drawback Is the Coat Closet That’s a Direct Portal to the Ninth Circle of Hell
Located on a tree-lined street in the heart of Park Slope, this gorgeous 1 bed, 1 bath, apartment features an original fireplace, wood floors throughout, brand new appliances, and close proximity to some of the city’s best schools. It’s steps away from dozens of restaurants and cultural hubs. The only tiny, very minor inconvenience is the coat closet. The coat closet is a direct portal to the ninth circle of hell.
At just $4,500 per month, this unit is sure to be snatched up quickly. The open-concept floor plan flows straight from the airy kitchen, featuring granite countertops and a quaint breakfast bar, to the living room, where floor-to-ceiling windows bathe the space in the golden afternoon light of one of the city’s most sought-after neighborhoods. Grab a steaming cup of coffee, and watch the world go by from your bay window, as the soft jazzy tones of the damned emanate from your coat closet. We waived the broker’s fee so you can invest in a good pair of noise-canceling headphones.
As we move from the living space to the bedroom, the apartment takes on a more intimate, personalized feel. The warm oak floors bring warmth to the space, even in the coldest of New York City winters. It features a walk-in closet that is not a direct portal to the ninth circle of hell, but still provides ample room for all your sweaters and shoes. Unfortunately, you can still hear the moaning of the damned even when you close the door to the walk-in, accidentally locking yourself in, and have to call your business partner and estranged husband to let you out.
But it was a blessing in disguise because that is the day I met Tom. Tom is a spirit with bat wings and a tail, condemned to a cell that just so happens to be 12-stories directly below this Park Slope apartment’s coat closet. Tom is eternally on fire. He is also the love of my life. Brokers are not supposed to insert themselves into StreetEasy listings, but I feel strongly that my story must be told.
The night I locked myself in the walk-in closet and had to call my estranged husband to let me out, I heard Tom’s melodic bloodcurdling scream for the first time. I was enchanted. It was like Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, if Beethoven’s 5th Symphony was performed by an orchestra of screaming bats being dragged across a bed of nails.
When my ugly husband came to pick me up, we had loveless sex in the master bedroom. My terrible husband was pleased when he heard me moan, but it was actually Tom moaning because he hasn’t had a drop of water since 1564.
My husband keeps asking where I am during the day, since I now spend up to 16 hours with my ear pressed against the floor of the Park Slope apartment’s coat closet, communicating with Tom through vibrations and Emily Dickinson poetry. I read online that demons sometimes latch onto the first breathing woman who finds them, using them as their ticket to the land of the living and maybe a hot meal. But to be fair, men who claim to be alive also do this. Like my disgusting, sad excuse of a husband, who can’t even rent a below market-rate one-bedroom with crown molding in Soho. If he can’t even do that, how is he going to give me one lousy orgasm?
Counting his tail, Tom is 6 foot 4. Includes in-unit washer and dryer. This apartment is no longer on the market.
- About the Author
- Latest Posts
Bobbie Armstrong is a former child, current writer and student. Her work has appeared on McSweeney’s, Slackjaw, Belladonna Comedy, Little Old Lady, and her parents’ fridge. Follow her existential crisis @bobbien_
