Last night, I had the windows open, and I heard a familiar voice. NO, IT WAS NOT SATAN, you bunch of fucking smart asses. It was my old neighbour, Joe. (You may remember me mentioning the kids, as in the kids who had the yard sale that blocked my entire front picture window for several weeks last year.)
Anyhoo, Joe came back (nearly a year after he, the wife, and the kids moved out) to dig up some plants the wife had planted in our/my yard in order to cart them off to the place he is living currently. I had to laugh. Only Joe would have the balls to even consider that shit, let alone do it. Of course, I told him: whatever. I could give a fuck. Dig the entire yard up. Whatever.
The new biker/born again neighbours have more material possessions than God. Motherfucker made multiple trips with a huge U-Haul and kept unloading until dark last night. I never saw so much fucking furniture in all my fucking life. I don't know how the motherfuckers fit all that shit in their half of the double. The kids may be sleeping in a closet or some shit, but that's not my concern. Far be it from me to act like Puppini Kravitz. I don't have time to be a damn busybody!
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5 comments:
I suppose that now that they are born-again they don't have to spend all their money on drugs and bikes and booze and shit so they can use it to buy furniture.
Good morning, dear Ms. Bastard! Love from me in Florida!
P.S. I would send my husband back to dig up plants I had planted. Well, actually, I wouldn't, but I WOULD WANT TO. Okay, actually, I DO want to. Is six years later too long?
Dish,
That was FUCKING FUNNY.
Ms. Moon,
Nah, go for it. Mr. Moon is a forgiveable, likeable character like Joe. It would probably be just fine.
Love you both!
Maybe they are just fake Christians and will be setting up a meth lab next door.
Syd,
I have cats and a dog. Meth labs are scary. The chemicals from that shit could turn Puppini Kravitz into some sort of mutant. Shudder.
Love you.
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