Mark Istanbul
Mark Instanbul (irrelevant - hopefully soon) is an inconsiderate roommate who refuses to do dishes, pick up after his disgusting dog, or pay a fair share for utilities. He has been living at his 2 bedroom apartment for 19 months and has been responsible for a deteriorating living situation that may soon result in the mental breakdown of his roommate.
Early Life
He was probably born someplace where manners don’t exist. The traditional societal rules surrounding ettiequte have instead been replaced with a system of deliberate practices with an ultimate aim of annoying all surrounding persons. When first introduced to the dinner table, children are taught to chew with their mouths open and slurp their soup. Done correctly, these acts (among others) will irritate all dining companions in a manner that makes the entire meal volatile and disappointing. During their teenage years, adolescents are taught to be loud and filled with expletives. Laundry is taught to pile up and bath tubs are expected to gather black mold. Those who are most successful at inducing this type of environment gain an enviable level of respect and honor among their peers.
The customs and habits of Mark Istanbul during his time at 2009 East Hoover St. in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania are evidence that he must have come from a society like this.
East Hoover Street
Istanbul moved into the apartment at 2009 East Hoover Street on March 4, 2023 after responding to a listing on Craigslist. He tricked the other resident into believing that he was a normal person who respected other peoples boundaries and expected a similar level of cleanliness. The first sign that this may not have been true was when the back of the rented moving truck was opened and a dozen black trash bags (hastily tied up with what looked like women’s hair bands) spilled out. Evidently, these bags were used in lieu of moving boxes because “they were cheaper.” The next red flag was that these trash bags were not opened in the first month of moving in and one appeared to be leaking. After two months of living at East Hoover Street, Istanbul began calling the address “Easy Street” which poetically changed East to Easy and eliminated Hoover altogether. This made no sense to the other resident because East is a directional marker and barely plays into the character of the original name. Hoover is what matters and he got rid of it. Easy Street makes no sense!
One night after Istanbul was driving back from his job sweeping floors at the dirt factory where he must have worked, he found a galumphing sheep dog digging up a patch of rose bushes. Thinking it was his responsibility to rescue this dog, Istanbul stuffed the sheep dog into his unmufflered sedan and drove him back to the apartment. He must have fed the dog a handful of Ritalin or street grade cocaine because as soon as he opened the apartment door, the dog found a reserve of excited energy that activated the rocket fuel in its hind legs and the air raid siren in its throat. The sleeping roommate woke up to a loud crash and Tasmanian Devil sounds. Upon opening his bedroom door, he saw the apartment in complete disarray, with furniture knocked over and dirty paw prints on every surface, including the walls. A careful wander into the kitchen revealed Mark Istanbul holding on to a soaking wet sheep dog. Istanbul was leaned over the face of the dog picking out rose thorns and throwing them on the floor. Despite protestations from the original apartment resident, the dog stayed and was given the name Easy Dog (named after the street). “Easy Dog on Easy Street” is what he would say when walking around the apartment.
Istanbul had the peculiar habit of sleeping in bright, cool-toned light. He claimed that it was necessary because he had an intense residual fear of the dark that originated in a childhood incident. At first he would only keep the overhead light on, but as the months passed, he began trawling local Goodwills in search of lamps. It was not uncommon to see him carry two or three lamps at a time from his car to his room. The door of Istanbul’s room was normally kept closed, but every once in a while the roommate caught a glimpse of the interior when Istanbul was entering or leaving. On one occasion, that momentary crack of light revealed what must have close to thirty lamps arranged on tables, attached to the wall, and scattered over the floor. Every single one was on. It was at this time that the bills from PPL Electric increased into the three hundreds. The roommate, in the spirit of fair responsibility, suggested to Istanbul that Istanbul pay a higher percentage of the electric bill because his infinitely increasing lamps were the obvious cause for the increase. Istanbul felt that this was an attack on his mental health because the lamps were necessary for his sleep. The issue became temporarily moot after Easy Dog had another spurt of energy and broke 90% of the lamps in the room. The Harrisburg Goodwills had already been emptied of lamps, so Istanbul had to make trips further out to replace what Easy Dog destroyed. It took 2 months for the electric bills to go back to the insane prices of before. This time, the roommate decided it wasn’t worth the fight.
Institutionalization or Homicide
This situation now leaves the two resident of Easy Street at an impasse. The roommate needs Istanbul because he can’t afford rent on his own, but Istanbul is driving him to a point of insanity that cannot possibly end in anything good. In a fair world, Istanbul would be taken away by some psychiatric authority who has the common sense to see that Istanbul is the insane one. No normal person sleeps with forty-five 100 watt light bulbs or buys a loaf of bread just for the heels. You should be able to make an anonymous phone call where you can explain the crazy thing a person is doing, then thirty minutes later a half dozen strongmen in white coats show up and take that crazy person to an institution so far away from the civilized world that they won’t ever find their way back. This is a fantasy, of course, which means that the sane people are forced to live among the maniacs who make their lives miserable and drive up their electric bills.
Maybe it makes more sense for the roommate to enter an institution. Voluntarily, but only barely. There he can find treatment for this induced insanity. Electroconvulsive therapy, water therapy, group therapy, maybe even a few hours tied up in a straight jacket inside a padded room where he can bounce around like that godforsaken Easy Dog. If he sticks around long enough (and that’s almost guaranteed - this sickness can’t be cured overnight), he might get in close with one of those old-timer docs who remembers the good old days. Someone who has tranquilized to a thousand schizophrenics and once got a tooth knocked out by a woman who watched too many karate movies. This doctor knew a time before the benzos and SSRIs and tranquilizers showed up and instead they’d stick an ice pick in your eye and mash up enough of your brain to take the crazy away. If the roommate is really lucky, then this psychosurgeon will do the same to him and turn him into a vegetable that never thinks about Mark Istanbul again.
This may seem desperate, but if neither of those options come to pass, then a dangerous third option must be considered. Mark Istanbul is not fit or deserving to live in polite society. He must be removed to ensure everyone’s safety. Perhaps the pile of jump ropes he bought after attempting to make it professionally will find their way tangled around his neck. Maybe the collection of Damascus steel knives he bought from a mall kiosk and displays among the lamps in his room will fall off the wall and find a new home in his bulging stomach. Maybe the incomplete matchstick model of the Philadelphia’s Comcast Center will finally catch fire and burn him and the apartment and roommate with him. Istanbul noticed that his roommate began collecting Zippos.