I hate my neighbors.
When I moved into my neighborhood, it was just me and my wife. We moved into a house previously owned by an older couple, who were very well liked and revered in the neighborhood.
…not so much, us.
We happened to move next door to Screaming-Wife-Unhappy-Husband-14-kids (SWUH).
Directly across the street from us was the entrance to a very short, dead-end road.
At the end of this dead-end road, two houses down, was Trailer-Trash-Bitch-with-Rottweiler (TTBR).
The house on the corner of this dead-end street (adjacent to my house) was populated by an older couple.
Each person in this couple was approximately 120-years old.
They seemed nice, and had their kids and grandkids over often…
They were Christian and family oriented…but we never really talked to them.
...because I really don't like old people...
...or young people...
...actually, I'm not fond of anyone, really.
...but I digress...
Anyway, with us having no kids as of yet, we went to the local shelter and adopted an 18-pound mutt…which I’m not sure qualifies as a dog…and may be often confused with a ferret or an oversized rat.
Every morning before work, I’d let my ferret-mutt-dog out on the front lawn to pee, poop, and effectively kill any chance I’d have of getting decent curb-appeal with my property. She was tied to the front stair railing with her leash and about 15-feet of lead.
My lawn looked poo-tastic.
One morning, at the ripe time of 5:30, I let my dog out the front door.
It was dark, and I couldn’t see much.
…but shortly after, I could hear my dog start barking…
I CAN NOT STAND people who let their dogs bark.
So as I looked out the front door to yell at my dog (or kick her or whatever), I happened to see it coming out of the top of my vision…
..a blackish-brown blur..
There it was...
...that friggin’ horse-dog coming full fury at my ferret-mutt…all 18 pounds of her..
And there’s my dog, the brave little turd, barking like this is going to be one Hell of a match-up:
“Watch this, daddy…I’m gonna mess dis bitch up!”
I ran out and scooped up my dog as fast as I could and turned my back to the Rotty. The Rottweiler stopped, still barking, while I opened the door and threw my dog into the house.
..and lo and behold…here was TTBR walking down the street…
“I’m sorry..” she said, half-giggling...shaking her head like, "Oh well...whatcha gonna do..?"
She seems very lighthearted about the whole thing.
“Sorry about that," she says.
She acted like if I hadn’t scooped my dog up, that her dog would have just ran up, stopped, and the two animals would have started playing nice with toys painted brightly from China.
That dog would have EATEN my dog. One, maybe two, bites…tops.
This all sinks in...and I lose it.
“You F*cking B*tch! You better leash that F*CKING dog very F*CKING soon or I’m going to call the F*CKING cops down here and take your SH*TEATING dog and put him right the F*CK to sleep you stupid, STUPID F*CKING B*TCH!”
She grabs her dog, horrified, and starts swearing back at me…like I had NO RIGHT to go off on her macaroni-and-cheese eating, WWE-watching, Jerry Springer wannabe, fat ass.
We’re now screaming obscenities at each other in the middle of the street.
It’s like a George Carlin concert but he has nicer hair than she does.
I honestly had no idea I knew that many swear words – I actually think I may have invented one or two during the bout. F’s and A’s and all combinations in between are flying like shotgun shells…
Keep in mind, it’s 5:30 in the morning.
..and then…in a momentary break in the action’s silence…I hear a very low, elderly voice call out from the house on the corner…
Apparently, people don’t like this sort of behavior prior to the crack of dawn.
We stopped. TTBR turned around and went home...her floral print moomoo whipping behind her.
And, apparently, the old people were now awake…now with the knowledge that I was not a practicing born-again Christian.
It took 5 more years to get those old people to acknowledge we existed on the street, and to not look at me with shame in their eyes.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007