The other day I read an Unshitty™ post over at Go Jules Go in which she described the terror of her mom’s neighbor hanging deer carcasses in the back yard. At the end of the post she asked that her readers share any horrible neighbor stories they may have. I have one, but I figured I’d share it here with a pingback to her post since it’s quite a funny story. If I can manage to convey it that way, that is.
I’ll wait here while you go read Jules’ post.
You back? I hope you read the entire post cause Jules fucking rocks. You did? Good.
On with the post!
THE BACKGROUND: I was married. *gasp* I know, I know. I’m shocked, too. I was married to the twins’ mother and the twins were about a year and a half old at the time, so this was probably in or around 2001.
The neighbor in question was on crutches and had a cast on his right ankle. I can’t remember if he had surgery or if he had broken it, but he definitely couldn’t walk on it.
At the time, many of us in the neighborhood were fighting losing battles with moles.
THE SETTING: We lived in a two-story house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. It was, and still is, located on a small cul-de-sac right off of a main highway and located literally hundreds of feet from a middle school.
The neighbor in question lived across the street from us.
THE STORY: I had just gotten home from a grueling day of work. My mother-in-law watched the twins at our house because it was easier for everyone involved. She had just left, and my wife had yet to reach home. So I was home with the twins and her two children, who were 6 and 10 at the time.
Our house was equipped with a whole house fan. I turned it on and opened all the windows in the house. I had barricaded the twins into the living room so they couldn’t escape, and sat down on the couch next to the window where I could enjoy the cool breeze flowing in through the window which was being drawn in by the huge fan in our attic.
I flipped on the TV and was watching some nonsensical program or another. I honestly don’t remember and can only guess that it was nonsensical because, hey, what is there that’s really worth watching at 4:30 in the afternoon? Absolutely nothing, that’s what. At any rate, it’s irrelevant to the story.
What is relevant to the story is what happened next. As I sat comatose on the couch enjoying the cool air and occupying my exhausted mind with whatever crap the television had to offer me, a cacophonous sound shattered the gentle, suburban calm. To my inexperienced ears, It sounded like a car backfiring.
The same sound rang out again and this time was followed by string of incoherent profanities and ill-tempered bellows.
I slowly approached my bay window and curiously glanced outside to see what all the ruckus was about. I reached the window and peered out. I glanced left first and saw nothing of interest. I then looked toward the right and there, in all of its hilarious glory, was one of the funniest sights I’ve ever beheld.
My temporarily crippled neighbor was stomping on a molehill with his good foot. Crooked under his left armpit was a crutch and in his right hand was his shotgun. I continued to watch in awe as this idiot, who evidently had spent his entire load, maintained his assault on the vacant molehill with his uninjured foot.
Dearest readers, this is such an uncommon sight that even the almighty Google doesn’t have an image representing this hilarious and somewhat disturbing scene. Trust me, I looked.
I watched for a few moments more to see what would come of this amazingly brazen display of stupidity, but nothing changed. He didn’t reload nor did he stop his stomping or cursing. I eventually lost interest and went back to watching whatever inane tripe was on the TV.
To this day, it is still one of the funniest things I’ve ever witnessed and it’s a story I never tire of telling.
Do you, dearest reader, have an amazing neighbor story to tell?