Witness Me Banging A Nail In The Coffin
We have crazy neighbors. Not crazy charming, like the transgender down the street who keeps changing his cup size, but crazy annoying. Please move out of the neighborhood kind of crazy.
There isn’t one big moment where my husband and I looked at each other and said, “Oh my gawd, they’re crazy.” It’s been more of a slow trickle of assholeishness that moved us there.
Let me give you the steady decline in chronological order:
About a year and a half ago my dog, Junior (AKA The Little Fucker) brought me a bird. A dead bird. He brings them to me all throughout the spring. Sometimes they’re fetal, other times fully formed, they are always disgusting. He is always delighted with himself. Typically I head across the street and ask my firefighter neighbor to please pick up the dead animal. The firefighter always helps, and I always find a little something for his four year old son. It’s what we do. Well, eighteen months ago, when the firefighter wasn’t home I asked my next door neighbor if he’d help with the dead bird in my living room. I knocked on the door and he answered.
“Hi!” I said cheerfully, “would you mind helping me? The dog brought a bird into my house and I was wondering if you could pick it up for me?”
His face contorted and he said, “Just a minute, let me ask my wife.” closed the door in my face and scurried to the back of his house.
Three minutes pass.Read More »Witness Me Banging A Nail In The Coffin