Acting Neighborly
by WHO on Aug-20-2002

In most states, you need a license to fish. How come no one needs a license to breed? I contemplate this bit of irony every day almost immediately after opening my front door.

I live in a duplex. The benefit of a duplex over an apartment is that you don’t have as many neighbors. The con is, however, that your one set of neighbors want you to get up close and personal with them. They want you to be friends.

Now for the most part, I’m an antisocial little bitch to begin with and it most assuredly doesn’t help that my neighbors are Poor White Trash Personified.

The first time I actually met one of my neighbors was when the mother had come over to use the phone. (Theirs was shut off, of course) Now, I am by no means faulting her for getting her phone shut off. I’ve gotten my own phone shut off a couple of times. I’m not even faulting her for asking a perfect stranger for access to her phone. I would have driven to a payphone, but that’s just me. What I do find unsettling is the way she asked to use my phone:

“Can I use your phone for 10 minutes? It’s not long distance.”

“Fine,” I reply, “it’s right over there.”

“I have to call my Mother and discuss some medical problems I’m having.”

Now I am desperately trying to avoid hearing about her medical problems, so I just point to the phone and say, “No biggie. Phone is right there.”

“My Father molested me as a child, so I have stomach problems!” she blurts.

Now what the fuck am I supposed to say to that? “Cool! Did you like it?”

Not to say that she should feel ashamed or guilty that she was molested as a child. I’m just saying that it is not a subject that can be tactfully brought up within the first 15 minutes of knowing someone. Some things aren’t my fucking business, dammit!

Or did she expect I would excitedly reply, “Me too!” Whereupon we’d bond over long discussions of creative ways Daddy talked us into putting his cock in our mouths?

The second time she came over, it was to call her Mother again. Now in true form of most Podunk hillbillies, the woman talks VERY LOUD, so it was next to impossible to ignore her conversation.

“Guess what Billy (her husband) did? He put a lock on the fridge! (pause, pause) Because he was afraid I’d eat the whole pumpkin pie! So he locked the fridge so I couldn’t get it! (pause) Well, I showed him! I broke the lock off! (Pause, pause) OF COURSE I ate the whole pumpkin pie! I didn’t even save a crumb for him, that bastard!”

Triumphant, she was.

Personally, I find the entire concept of a husband putting a lock the refrigerator to prevent his glutton of a wife from eating an entire pumpkin pie hilarious. Equally funny, is the fact that she broke the lock off and devoured the entire thing just to spite him.

Billy and Mom (I have yet to figure out her name) have a daughter we’ll call ‘Nicky.’ Nicky is 3-year-old devil spawn. In fact, Mom has come over on numerous occasions to inform me that Nicky has ’seizures’ and if we hear yelling from time to time it’s only because that’s what the Doctor told her to do to get her out of a ’seizure.’

Apparently, Mom thinks I’m so stupid to believe that a licensed medical Doctor informed her that in order to get her 3-year-old child out of a seizure, she must yell, “SHUT UP YOU LITTLE BRAT BEFORE I BEAT YOUR EVER LOVING ASS!” at the top of her lungs. Ah, the beauty of magic words.

However, I ignore it for one reason and one reason alone: The kid IS a brat. In fact, the little monster has been known to randomly open MY door, run into MY house, and dive bomb onto MY couch. At these times, I used to stare at her totally befuddled, faintly wishing I had been engaging in something sexually perverted, so I could traumatize her pretentious little ass. After what used to seem like eternity, her mother would show up, grab her by the arm, and beat her little ass all the way out the door. At these times, not a word was ever spoken to ME, whose house was just invaded by a 33 lb cockroach.

Now, I just keep my door locked.

But every morning, on the way to work, I’ll catch a glimpse of the family in true Clampett form. And like I stated before, I normally shudder and wonder why in God’s name does society allow people like that to breed.

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