This isn’t a post about writing or reading but about an incident that occurred earlier in the week. A next-door neighbor dilemma. It’s an incredible story, so don’t tune out this soon, okay? 😀
WARNING: for all of you who abhor foul language, be aware this post has a few choice words sprinkled throughout. I do apologize for being vulgar, but when I get angry, the vocabulary tends to suffer.
Earlier in the week, as I sat in the den doing research for work, I kept hearing popping and pinging noises outside. A terrified squirrel dashed from our cherry tree and took off running, so I wondered if he stepped on a branch and it cracked, making that strange noise and frightening him.
The noises was coming from next door, though.
A debriefing: the house next door used to be owned by the nicest couple you’d ever want to have the pleasure of residing beside in a typical cookie-cutter subdivision.
Then they moved and the most hellish bunch of (no apologies here) WHITE TRASH took up residence.
I’ve slowly and resentfully come to accept the fact that the cataclysmic downturn in the housing market turned our quaint neighborhood of manicured lawns, well-kept facades, and a whole lot of Thurston Howell III and Lovely surrounding me to what it is today — Taylor-tucky at its worst.
The riff-raff could suddenly afford what once cost close to $200k since they were now going for under $100k.
And, it shows.
Pick-up trucks, pit bulls, caravans in almost every driveway (when this used to be illegal), weeds, hardly a mowed lawn in summer, and with brightly colored plastic toys scattered on everyone’s front lawn. Let’s not forget that strange yet typical phenomenon known as horizontal blinds akimbo and heavy curtains smashed against picture windows, and the ubiquitous duct-taped repair at random.
The new neighbors next door are no exception: the once pristine garage now stuffed to the gills with used and excess . . . whatever, and the door is always open, and with a massive, high-beam flood light filtering OUR WHOLE HOUSE every night.
What is it about hillbillies and flood lights, I wonder?
The noise I heard turned out to be the jackass and his pellet gun. Like a wanna-be Dirty Dan, this asshole stood less then ten feet away and used two hands to take pot shots at the squirrels IN OUR YARD, hitting everything but the defenseless creatures he apparently wanted dead.
Needless to say, I was livid. Furious, even. I was so startled and incredulous I didn’t know what to say, do, or even think for a few minutes. I first caught this asshat doing such a stupid, thoughtless, and ILLEGAL maneuver when I looked out the den wall and saw his arms extended, popping off a dozen or so rounds at a squirrel perched atop OUR fence at the back of the yard. He hit the neighbor’s garage, the utility pole, and some pellets pinged off the metal fence, but that terrified squirrel remained to chatter, twitter, and shake at him.
I told ma what he was doing, and she said she didn’t want to get involved. Now, it’s her house, so my hands were suddenly tied. But, the madness didn’t stop. Jerk-ass kept firing at will, into our yard, hitting the screened porch, our garage, and the cherry tree while remaining unsuccessful in his asinine attempt to eradicate OUR yard of squirrels.
Then the rains came and the ignorance ceased until the next day, when he started up again.
I had already received tons of helpful and outraged advice from my Facebook friends, and when I started hearing that same pinging, popping, and tinking again, I threw open that screen door and said, “Hey!” to get jack-wad’s attention. “Will you please stop?”
To which no-nuts replied, “They’re digging up my yard!”
To which I replied, “That’s too bad. You’re illegally shooting at squirrels in MY yard, and I want you to stop.”
No lie . . . this grown man with 3 children, graying hair, and too much time on his dirty hands, bowed his head like a scolded child and mumbled, “Okay.”
Three days later, and the squirrels are still safe and pellet hunted free of the madman’s dastardly attempts to . . . what, I still wonder? Seriously. What was he going to do had he actually managed to hit one of them? Would he hop over the fence, grab the corpse by the tail, and knock at ma’s door looking like the cat that dragged in a present?
Perhaps he was just going to leave them for me to clean up?
What, I wonder? What would happen after the fact? And, why in God’s name does this shithead have such a mentality?
Shooting a weapon outside, in a subdivision, at random. In broad daylight, and hitting everything but the intended targets.
What would the excuse be had he hit old lady Wilcox as she bent over pulling weeds in her yard? Or Romas’s sweet Fluffy as he romped about his yard? Or even dear, screaming meemie little Charlie — age 4 — who frequents the yard directly behind the asshat; screaming, shouting, whining, and yelling at his mother before being put down for an afternoon nap.
What the %$#@ is going through the small mind of one so close to me it gives me the shivers now.
I was afraid to go to bed thinking he would creep inside the house and aim that stupid weapon at me, even if I did feel somewhat confident that even at close range, the moron would somehow miss and there would be a flurry of hypo-allergenic whatever floating all around my room in the aftermath.
Now, if I offended any hillbillies or white trash out there, I apologize. And, in closing, please realize I’m not a huge squirrel fan myself, but I do think there are better, more humane and not insane ways to manage their — forgive them — digging habits.
2 – while I am not a gun aficionado and think they have reached epidemic abuse rates in this country, I do not deny anyone the right to disagree or own them.
And, 3 – pit bulls terrify me; I’m sorry. I know a lot of you out there adore them, own them, and will stand on ten bibles insisting they are sweet animals, but please don’t make any attempts to try and make me believe you. After being bitten twice, having had my 3-year-old son bit by one, a friend’s daughter having had her beautiful face marred by one, and my four-year-old daughter having been chased down by them twice; me a few times as well, I am over the pit bull scenario of deceit, thank you very much.