I DON'T TRUST MY NEW NEIGHBOR (PART 2)

Alright, you guys asked for it so we’re back from where we left off with my psychopath neighbor, “DR.STARR-LOVE”. We last heard from “Dr. Starr” in issue two of crisis magazine, his name is in quotes because that's fashooo not his real name! To catch you up, I just moved to Los Angeles in February 2021. Within moments, we met our first neighbor who lived in the apartment complex next door, “Dr. Starr” and my actual next-door neighbor, the Latina with the fucked up plastic surgery and the fatttt ass whose name I still don’t know, and my apartment manager, Brian. Brian had really fucked shit up when he told me to park in her parking spot that one day because like I had said, she vandalized my whip, “Dr. Starr” was waving the gun in the air, and the cops did absolutely nothing.

Now that you’re caught up to speed, I think… Fast forward a few weeks, I was doing laundry before this house party I was about to throw, and all of a sudden when I went to go put my shit in the dryer, my shit was fucking gone! Gone, gone! Not there. Not like they even waited for the water to leave the washing machine. Took my WET ASS CLOTHES. I had like 4 of my toughest friends with me at the time so naturally, we knocked on Dr.Starr and the Latina’s door and asked what the fuck is up. We trashed the inside of their homes looking for the clothes and couldn’t find shit. I told them that I was sick of their shit and I think they got scared straight enough somehow because later that night when I threw that party, they did nothing… 

 Tyler, the Creator, had shown up to the house party that night, and “Dr. Starr” had not only seen him, all the commotion, seen all 300 people but mainly what he had noticed was all the shorties walking into the apartment that night. ALLLLL of a sudden I was now his best friend for not only letting him go but for supplying him with “girls to pull”. like nahhhhhhhhh. Last magazine you saw the texts of the party he had invited me to that next day… It just kept getting worse after that, man. 

This guy was a fucking PROBLEM. Not only to us but to literally anybody who came over to link with us at our apartment after that. Put in mind we JUST moved to Los Angeles so most of the time, walking into this apartment was everybody's first impression of us. If you were a woman.. whoops, sorry not his vibe... GIRL* that waled by or in our apartment, he’d IMMEDIATELY come up and be a creepy mother fucker and not only say I was his best friend but he would also invite them to those crazy fuck parties from the last mag, ask if you wanted to see what was in his tiny briefcase and it would obviously be his tiny coke stash he’d offer you ( like, wtf ), and also this bro was a racist MOTHER-FUCKER. I thought where I was from was racist but I had never actually seen some hate towards other people like this man would give… EVEN THOUGH “LOVE” IS LITERALLY IN THIS FAKE ASS NAME HE GAVE ME! Every single time now when somebody new was coming over to the apartment I had to send a warning text that basically said sometimes along the lines of “yo.. if there's an old dude with a pink beard that says we’re friends please just take what he says with a grain of salt, nod your head, and ignore his ass” because if I didn’t he’d pull some crazy shit out front without me knowing and all of a sudden my guest now thinks I’m friends with a pedophile with a pink beard.

After the laundry situation, the car being vandalized, the gun shit, this mother-fucker “Dr.Starr” being a fucking menace outside every day, and the Latina with the fat ass getting piped every morning next to my bedroom wall. I finally fucking had it during the 6-month period of living in the Fairfax District. I was done. I had been telling friends and family back home about this mother-fucker and nobody believed me. Everybody thought this dude was some made-up shit, idek... But when everybody came to help me move out of that bitch.. Holy shit was he on one. The cops had taken his fucking dog that was also evidently named “Dr. Starr” and had impounded it or some shit. Put a 12-day police hold on his dog bro. I don’t know why but all I know is, good! I had never seen “Dr.Starr” again after I moved. I told him I was moving to Oregon when I really just moved 15-minutes away. He kept in contact with me tho. While we all say our final goodbyes to this “Dr.Starr-Love” saga let's just all remember that there's literally a newsstand a block away from the home that sells this magazine talking shit about him and he has absolutely no idea. I think that's funny to me so with further adieu, here's some more fucked up texts from “Dr.Starr”.