Crazy neighbors

Sounds like the guy who held a sawed-off shotgun to the back of my head because my roommates and I walked through the back of his apartment complex one night back when I was in college.

Come to think of it, that guy was the son of the landlord too.

 

Dear Neighbor,
Sorry my car was in your imaginary car's spot. I realize my mistake, but you do need to know what caused this to happen. Your imaginary wife and daughter stopped by late last night and asked me to take them out to buy some crank. I took them on said task, and on the way home, your wife started giving me the best imaginary blowjob I have ever had while your daughter imaginarily (is that a word?) started to masterbate. Needless to say, I was in a hurry to get parked when I got home so I could take those two imaginary whores upstairs and have my imaginary way with them. Sorry if we were too noisy.

Love, MertWindu

 

Mert, here's what you do:

Buy an old Harley-Davidson. Doesn't have to be in perfect shape aesthetically, but the engine needs to be in decent shape. Now, take off the mufflers and put on straight pipes. On random mornings you go out, start the bike and rev the engine a few dozen times.

 

"A boy trudged down the sidewalk dragging a fishing pole behind him. A man stood waiting with his hands on his hips. Summertime, and his children played in the front yard with their friend, enacting a strange little drama of their own invention. It was fall, and his children fought on the sidewalk in front of Mrs. Dubose’s. . . . Fall, and his children trotted to and fro around the corner, the day’s woes and triumphs on their faces. They stopped at an oak tree, delighted, puzzled, apprehensive. Winter, and his children shivered at the front gate, silhouetted against a blazing house. Winter, and a man walked into the street, dropped his glasses, and shot a dog. Summer, and he watched his children’s heart break. Autumn again, and Boo’s children needed him. Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough."

 

P.S. We're thinking of making the whole thing into a stage show, and taking it on the road. But we need a name for the act. Any suggestions?

 

The Whores Next Door......A blow-by-blow account of the life of a playa.

 

"The Aristocrats" ... snap, pose.

 

Dude, Where's My Parking Space?

 

Or, if you're my neighbor, you warm up your very loud diesel pickup for about 15 minutes at 5 a.m.

 

I'm pretty sure the people that live below me think the same thing about me.