Neighbors

The house we live in was originally built in 1888. The 1906 earthquake all but completely demolished it with the exception of the back room. Not long afterward the house was rebuilt and the back room was simply attatched to the kitchen area. On either side of us there are huge Victorian-era homes similar to ours. The one on the side of our driveway may be even more run down than ours, and it is home to three generations of the same dysfunctional family. On the other side of our house there is an older couple that appear to be antique dealers. Their Victorian is beautifully restored and the lot is immaculately tended to.

One of my bedroom windows overlooks the front porch of the Dysfunctional family’s house. I can see and hear everything that goes down over there, and believe me there’s plenty to hear. This family learned that if you have an argument you must proceed out the front door and fight outside on the porch. It doesn’t matter what time of day or night it is. That’s where the brawl must take place. I can’t begin to count the number of times those idiots have woke me up from a dead sleep just so they can fight over something retarded. The worst offender is their daughter who looks and acts like she’s in her early 20s. She’s in a broken relationship with a guy and they have a small child together. The girl is still living at home with her parents and grandparents.

Usually, Deadbeat guy shows up at some late hour either to drop off Deadbeat girl or to pick her up. In either case they like to stay out on their porch and scream at each other. The first few times I experienced the joys of their late night verbal arguments it was actually kind of fun to listen in and laugh at how stupid they were. Now it’s nothing more than completely annoying and I gave up yelling at them to shut the fuck up. When I first yelled at them they were startled, now they like to brawl with me and holler that I should mind my own business. I suggested repeatedly they take their fight indoors and close their windows so I can mind my own business, but they didn’t seem to understand what I was getting at.

My solution for dealing with this problem is- shoes. You’ve seen it in cartoons. A cartoon cat leaps up on a fence outside someone’s window and begins serenading the love struck girl cat high up in a balcony. As the would-be feline Romeo hits those soprano notes an arm sticks out a window and throws a boot or a shoe at the nuisance and always scores a bullseye to shut the bastard up. I thought about this one night after those nitwits woke me up with another of their useless arguments and I decided to start collecting unwanted shoes to use them as ammo against the neighbors. I got a medium sized carboard box and I asked friends for any old shoes they didn’t want anymore. The box filled with tore up footwear fast. I’m not a very good shot with the shoes yet, but thanks to my pals I’ve got plenty to throw and thanks to the dimwitted neighbors I have plenty of opportunites to practice my aim. It really isn’t easy to hit a person from a second story window with a shoe, let me tell you. I wish it was more like the cartoons and I’d always score a direct hit on the first try.

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~ by factorypeasant on January 1, 2005.

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