Joanie reminds me of the perils of neighborhood living, and the delicious gossip my barely-tolerated next door neighbor sidled over to dispense the other day. It seems the Garage People have become somewhat reduced in number, thanks to two of the pack getting the old heave ho from the Alpha Female (read: mortgage holder).
Sir Saggy-Pants (who has increasingly fucking irritated me with his very presence, not to mention his utterly unwarranted swagger, propensity for going about half-clothed, and general antagonism towards neighborhood children) and the Father Figure (who had a nerve-wracking habit of belting out the latest country hit whilst standing shirtless in his driveway, clutching a beer in one hand and idly scratching his increasingly deer jerky-like hide with the other) have been tossed the fuck out, most likely due to their complete lack of material contribution to the Cause over there. Well, other than that SWEET bench seat stolen from the interior of some hapless van, I’m sure.
Nosy Neighbor has it that the boy is all of 15 years old, never attended school (to this I can personally vouch, working from home as I do), and was known to amble about the neighborhood with a brewsky of his own screwed into his pubescent fist. I do wish I had known the child was less than the age of independence, I would have delighted in turning his truant ass in. Ah well, too late now. And the reward is no more bad country, no more saggy underpants, and no more duck eggs thrown at my vehicle and neighboring houses. The Muscovy population around here may recover yet.
Take victories where you can find ‘em.
Joan of Argghh!
April 10th, 2009
There’s definitely something in the water.
dogette
April 10th, 2009
Reverted back to underbridge status, no doubt.
B Smith
April 10th, 2009