I lugged box after box from the big semi up to the porch and when I had a few stacked up, I would take the porch boxes and haul them into our Philly apartment.
But in the midst of all of that moving last August, I made a grievous error. One half of one box touched the grass belonging to our new neighbor. IT TOUCHED HIS GRASS!
And he wasn’t happy about it.
Standing behind his screen door like all brave men do, he barked at me.
“Get your stuff off my lawn.”
He didn’t say “Hi neighbor” or “Do ya need a hand?” He said: “Get your stuff off my lawn.”
I was totally taken aback.
“Excuse me?”
He pointed toward the offending box and said in a much louder voice: “Get it off my lawn now or I will!“
“Well, that’s not a very neighborly thing to ...”
He slammed the door. I didn’t even get to finish my rather lame retort.
This first pleasant exchange with our creepy neighbor has blossomed into a stellar relationship. Our front doors may face each other, we may pass each other all the time, but that doesn’t mean we have to act like mature adults.
Leah and I never talk to the creep or make eye contact. We don’t even talk to each other when he is nearby. He follows a similar code. He keeps his head down and makes a beeline for his lair where he does evil things all day.
That is not totally fair. Sometimes he goes to work and does his evil deeds there.
Here is everything I‘ve learned about this man in the 10 months we’ve lived just feet apart. He always wears his long hair in a ponytail and he always looks like he just smelled something stinky. He yells at other people often and it may be his only known form of communication. He owns a big scary white van with no windows. He likes scuba diving or at least owns a scuba bumper sticker. He has a cat and occasionally tries to walk it around the neighborhood on a leash. He likes flowers. And his favorite summer activity is reclining on a nasty old yard chair facing the alleyway and the garbage cans.
How can a feline loving scuba buff be such a mean person? We ask ourselves this question when we are feeling charitable. But our sympathy vanishes when we see that dastardly face with that snarl, scrunched up nose and mean eyes.
It is during those moments that I have to fight an urge to completely cover his yard with cardboard boxes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
When the house closes/passes make him a batch of cup-cakes laced with shreded cardboard. Tell him thanks and play the theme song from the Jeffersons at "11 volume" while you move out.
Randy
ok ..... I just happened to stumble upon this blog.
AND I AM NOT SUCH A BAD GUY!!!!!
I love scuba diving, and since my injury at the plant I can't do it. That makes me sad, and I suppose I take it out on my neighbors.
So don't be such a baby about it man!
If you really want to be friends, why don't you be a man and walk up and knock on my door and we can sit together on the nasty chair and talk about scuba. Since I cant do it anymore.
Or I can take you down to my basement, and show you all the cool stuff I have been working on.
Especially the cool new examination table with the leather restraints.
I'm tired of just using them on the cat - I'd rather try them out on YOU!
KEEP YOUR BOXES OFF MY LAWN
Post a Comment