The Crackheads
A few months ago I moved into my new house. I have crackheads for neighbors. I call them crackheads in kind of a loving way. I have no idea whether they are crackheads or not. They do make a lot of noise. Late.
Now one of the things you learn as you get older is not to screw with unstable people. Unstable people have a tendency to do the one thing that you would least expect. Like set your garage on fire. Therefore, a man must understand ones limitations before speaking with people who are as high as a kite. Trying to reason with or intimidate unstable people has about the same chance of success as catching the Loch Ness monster on 6 lb. test.
I did not arrive at the ripe old age of 50, somewhat intact, by being a dumb shit. Having turned in my badge a few years ago leaves me feeling somewhat naked although I must admit I have compensated for that by adding some additional firearms to my existing arsenal- and growing a brain. Growing a brain usually means that my very first thought- anytime I am agitated by someone- is the very same thought that an absolute idiot would have. I now recognize this handicap of mine. Idiot here, please ignore.
For the last couple months, the crackheads next door go out on Friday and Saturday night. They come home when the bars close at about 0230 hrs. They then engage in a big ass fight at the end of which, they crank on some music. The disturbance lasts only about one hour and I am thankful for that. Since it occurs each weekend, it does not take CSI Miami or an FBI crime analyst to determine that the chances of it happening again this weekend- are better than average.
Now when the big brouhaha happens tonight, I cannot call the cops. The neighbors would immediately know it is that new guy next door. Talking to people while they are loaded is not very effective either. I learned this over the course of a few dozen police dog piles. So not wanting to start a neighborhood fuck you contest, I have put together a strategy that I think might be effective. I have been extremely nice to the crackheads. I have complimented them on their house, their yard and even their ugly dog that barks all night while they are out getting loaded. I may even volunteer to help them with some chores. Maybe shovel their sidewalk. In a month or so, when I cannot take one more Ozzy Osbourne wake up call, I am going to pay them a visit a day or two after they sober up and beg them. Hopefully, my strategy will pay off.
I hope so. I've got about one month's worth of patience left before I spring my big plan. We'll see how smart I am then. Which reminds me, I gotta stop by State Farm today and increase the policy limits on my garage.
Now one of the things you learn as you get older is not to screw with unstable people. Unstable people have a tendency to do the one thing that you would least expect. Like set your garage on fire. Therefore, a man must understand ones limitations before speaking with people who are as high as a kite. Trying to reason with or intimidate unstable people has about the same chance of success as catching the Loch Ness monster on 6 lb. test.
I did not arrive at the ripe old age of 50, somewhat intact, by being a dumb shit. Having turned in my badge a few years ago leaves me feeling somewhat naked although I must admit I have compensated for that by adding some additional firearms to my existing arsenal- and growing a brain. Growing a brain usually means that my very first thought- anytime I am agitated by someone- is the very same thought that an absolute idiot would have. I now recognize this handicap of mine. Idiot here, please ignore.
For the last couple months, the crackheads next door go out on Friday and Saturday night. They come home when the bars close at about 0230 hrs. They then engage in a big ass fight at the end of which, they crank on some music. The disturbance lasts only about one hour and I am thankful for that. Since it occurs each weekend, it does not take CSI Miami or an FBI crime analyst to determine that the chances of it happening again this weekend- are better than average.
Now when the big brouhaha happens tonight, I cannot call the cops. The neighbors would immediately know it is that new guy next door. Talking to people while they are loaded is not very effective either. I learned this over the course of a few dozen police dog piles. So not wanting to start a neighborhood fuck you contest, I have put together a strategy that I think might be effective. I have been extremely nice to the crackheads. I have complimented them on their house, their yard and even their ugly dog that barks all night while they are out getting loaded. I may even volunteer to help them with some chores. Maybe shovel their sidewalk. In a month or so, when I cannot take one more Ozzy Osbourne wake up call, I am going to pay them a visit a day or two after they sober up and beg them. Hopefully, my strategy will pay off.
I hope so. I've got about one month's worth of patience left before I spring my big plan. We'll see how smart I am then. Which reminds me, I gotta stop by State Farm today and increase the policy limits on my garage.
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