The landlords of 338 Koch Ave., Placentia, Calif., are Chinese and they’re prejudice. They’re a weird prejudice. Mei Lan Chao, the mothering owner, has at least two statuettes of black women. But Mei and her family are the Chinese equivalent of the white man’s “curiosity.”

The house, now, is infested with fleas and mosquitos. A bully named Aaron lives here. I’m afraid of him. I’m afraid for my life. But their plan is to throw me away. Today, May 3, the Placentia Police Department couldn’t take me to jail for a staged up domestic dispute. And I paid rent, $660, on the first.

Here’s my experience at 338 Koch:

In Dec. 2014, I found this house on craigslist. I dialed its number. Mei answered. She plays the sweet and innocent Asian grandma so well. She said this was her oldest daughter’s house. Mei lived in it with Becky, the youngest daughter, who was engaged.

I moved in on New Years!

My first cue that Mei was full of shit was when she introduced me to my roommate. He was African-American. He showed me a $700 rent check. On the memo line he’d written, “Your last check.”

“You see that?” He asked Mei. “See what I wrote?”

“Hmm.” She said. I sensed Mei didn’t care about anyone.

After two months, a skinny and elderly Chinese man began shuffling around the house. Mei introduced him as her husband from Taiwan. He didn’t speak English. One afternoon, Mei “insisted” I wear a pair of dusty sandals and take out their trash.

The sandals were her husband’s. A few days later I returned from work. I inserted my key. The husband snatched open the door. Then he struck me in the face with a forearm block. His wrist bone hit between my eyes. Then he walked inside and locked me out.

My heart flopped into my stomach! I was socked out and locked out! They had my stuff. And I didn’t have any rights.

I had to have rights! The husband let my key work. Timidly, I walked in. He stood shoulder to shoulder with me. Mei was cooking. She wouldn’t look at me. “Hey Mei,” I yelled, “Is everything alright? This man hit me. I said, this man hit me!”

She ignored me. Her husband laughed a sick laugh.

Next, Mei and her family gave me Covid-19. It was summer 2015. I was the first Carona Virus case.

Mei had a family reunion at 338 Koch. The house was wall to wall packed with Chinese. Bodies flowed into the backyard. Most flew in from China. They all brought dishes.

Right away I began feeling sick. After a few days I had a full-blown flu. I called out from work.

After two weeks I was sick as I’d ever been! After four weeks I was near death. The pains were excruciating. I heard Mei and her family members whisper: “He’s still alive”, “Won’t be for long”; and “Want to take him to a hospital?”

One evening, while puking out my life, I heard Becky’s fiancé ask if they could take me to a hospital. I’d hoped they would. I heard Becky say, “No. You know what that is.”

I missed two to three months of work. The doctor who cleared me for work said he'd never seen this before.

Back on my feet, I found a reason to wear the old man’s sandals. And I ran into violence, again.

See, I didn’t realize the husband hit me for wearing his sandals. So I wore them again. Took out the trash. Mei saw me. A few days later a Mexican gangster attacked me. We squared off. The gangster dropped into a crouching tiger. “The old man taught me a few tricks too,” he said.

I was terrified. I ran for my life. He screamed, “You better jump in front of a car! And kill yourself! Better than if I catch you!”

A gas station attendant from India saved me.

As years passed, I noticed Mei’s family revered white people. They would think the most unattractive white person was gorgeous.

Alan Wolcott walking around the stonegate flashing. He's usually barefoot.

Then I noticed that I was treated differently than Alan, a blond who lived downstairs. He paid half the amount of rent I paid. He was a neurotic tattletale. And a clandestine spy for the local Watchmen.

I’d look over my shoulder and see Alan. I’d be so annoyed I’d swing at my own shadow. But Mei didn’t discipline me over Alan’s snitching. They waited for me to run out of money.

Mei and her husband would stalk me to the house. Then she’d insist we talk for hours about how I could get her money right away. It would be 10 o’clock and I’d be drop dead tired. They’d block my bathroom. Sometimes I’d mope the streets until midnight, trying to avoid Mei.

But, one experience showed me I was in a house supported by “the system.” One evening, Becky walked through the door. A mighty and beefy arm hovered her head. It was the arm of the bailiff at the Norwalk Superior Court.