Living in a Small Town

We were visiting a small town when I spotted the sweetest little house for rent. Picture‑perfect. Porch swing energy. I asked the landlord, Mr. Turner, “How much is the deposit?”

He said, “I don’t need a deposit. I just have some questions.”

I thought he meant normal rental questions. He did not.

Mr. T: “Why did you move to our little town?” Me: “The cheap rent.” (He blinked like I’d said a cuss word.)

Mr. T: “Who are you related to?” Me: “Do I have to be related to someone?” Mr. T: “We don’t want no strangers in our little town.” Me: They let you in… (I did NOT say that out loud.)

So I said, “Morris family.” His eyebrows went up. Apparently that was the magic password.

Mr. T: “How many kids will be going to our nice little school?” Me: “Two.” (I still don’t know why this mattered. Was he taking attendance?)

Mr. T: “Will you be having any wild parties?” Me: “Not that I know of. Do you want invited to one?” He did not laugh.

Mr. T: “What are your children’s names?” Me: “Why? Do you need one of them for a deposit?” Still no laugh.

Mr. T: “Are you going to join the Lions Club?” Me: “Do I have to?” Mr. T: “No… but it would be the neighborly thing to do.”

Then he asked, “What church do you go to?”

Me: “I have to go to church?” (The look on his face…) “I belong to the big one.”

That seemed to settle his spirit. “Well,” he said, “looks like you’ll do.”

I asked, “Aren’t you going to write any of this down?” He waved me off. “What for? I won’t forget it.”

I pulled out cash for the deposit.

Mr. T: “Oh, I’d rather have a check. I’m afraid I’ll lose cash.” Me: “I only have an out‑of‑state check.” Mr. T: “Is it any good?” Me: “Yes, but…” (I could’ve been lying. He had no idea.)

He shrugged. “Well, then it’s good enough for me. I know where ya live.”

He took the check and handed me the keys.

And that’s how I passed the Small‑Town Background Check — no paperwork, just who ya know.