(WARNING SOME GRAPHIC LANGUAGE BELOW)
My name is Robert and I have a serious problem. Well, I don’t have the problem, per say, my neighbors do - and a wide assortment of them at that. They are the wackiest bunch of halfwits I have ever met. They insist upon making my tranquil home into a dungeon complete with atrocious odors, loud noises and even the neighborhood dragon, Catherine. I couldn’t even tell you how this all came about. When I moved into the neighborhood thirty years ago Crenshaw Pines was the model for a quaint and quiet community.
Crenshaw Pines was nowhere near the incredibly lavish and humongous mansions that the host of elite folks in Crenshaw resided in. However, it was no ghetto either. The neighborhood was safe - it was a place to raise a family, it was a place to get away from the large urban city, and a place to relax. Now it is an insane asylum housing only the worst-of-the-worst. It is cluttered with nuisances and aggressive, hostile and downright cruel neighbors.
Each and every day I stay in Crenshaw Pines I grow a bit more livid, a bit more hostile. My rage is piling on so fast that it is hard to control my outbursts. I now feel as I have evolved into an aggressive and conniving Cul-De-Sac resident as well. My neighbors have corrupted me. I used to be a model citizen and now I get my chops off of spraying the neighbor’s vile offspring. The little bastards repulse me. They’ve teepeed my house, spray painted my garage door and even cut me off every time they are behind me when I am turning into the neighborhood. They have almost killed me and their parents, the repulsive people that they are, have done absolutely nothing to stop it.
Sometimes I think that I cannot take it any longer. Sometimes I feel that anything would be better than living here. However, I have no choice. No one wants my house. The house is beautiful, it is two stories painted in a deep, dark tan with large windows, a gorgeous entryway covered with ornamental bricks and a two-car garage. Though, none of that matters when buyers come and see, hear and smell all of our neighbors. Before long they are running for the hills. Realtors should really just stake out buyers who venture into Crenshaw Pines as they will promptly make an offer on ANY other house - as long as it is not in Crenshaw Pines.
I’m stuck here. As much as it pains me to say it, I am unable to leave no matter how much I would like to. I am unable to change anything in terms of the sale of my home - it is outside of my control. When I bought this house it was with the vision of living here forever. I invested everything I had into it. I knew it would be the perfect place to retire - and it was for about fifteen years, before things started going sideways.
I have developed a plan though. A plan that is both diabolical and characteristic to how our little Cul-De-Sac operates. I have developed a plan to put the power back into my hands. I have create a way to have my cake and eat it, too. I have created a plan to annoy all of my pesky neighbors out of the Cul-De-Sac so they can be replaced with tranquil and calm, normal human-beings. I can regain my financial stake in my home and have a place to live that is devoid of psychopaths.
Seeing the neighborhood finally go back to being a normal place where I could relax and enjoy myself has sort of felt like a pipe dream over the past fifteen years or so since Catherine moved in. Catherine is a cat lady. She is absolutely obsessed. If she sees a cat she brings it home, no ifs-ands-or-buts about it. When she first moved in she seemed relatively normal. She had one cat, Milo, but that was it. I’m no fan of cats, but he was cute and looked sort of like he was wearing a tuxedo with his markings. I thought nothing of her at first. I didn’t like that she replaced Deloris, a incredibly kindly older woman who unfortunately passed after which her estate was placed for sale. However, as much as it concerned me getting a new neighbor I felt that there was nothing crazy about little old Catherine. I was completely wrong.
Catherine and I have become mortal enemies. I want nothing to do with her. I am just so sick of the stray cats that she lends shelter to in her garage and then allows loose throughout the Cul-De-Sac. I swear there must be at least 30 or 40 of them roaming around my lawn right this moment. It is an absolute nightmare.
As I write this on my slow, outdated, and incredibly dusty computer I cannot help but to wonder where it all went wrong in Catherine’s life. What happened to her? How did she get to be this way?
Also, as I peer out my second story window at the felines roaming on my lawn I wonder why a conniving plan has not been established sooner. Now is the time to take control of the neighborhood, to take control of my home and take control of my life! Now is the time to usurp power from the crazies and return Crenshaw Pines into the amazing community it once was.
Operation Viper is well underway. I began laying the foundation to what will be the worst annoyances that my neighbors have ever dealt with. They are about to get a taste of their own medicine, and it is not going to be sweet! They are about to see what it is like to be in my shoes. They are going to finally understand how horrible I can be when I am agitated. They are about to see my dark side.
I think my pesky neighbors are finally starting to get it… I know they’re on to me. At first when I decided to foster a plan to aggravate them, as they have aggravated me for years, they seemed to get slightly less annoying. They still were not ideal neighbors - not by a long shot, - but for about two weeks there at least seemed to be some order. None of the neighborhood brats messed with my stuff, Catherine’s cats were confined to her domicile and general peace was had.
All seemed to be well in the world. Then BOOM! It hit. A baseball went darting through my bedroom window. Before the glass even finished shattering with a crunch on my hardwood floors another ball went barreling through my guest bedroom. As the upstairs windows were shattering I was making a tuna sandwich in the kitchen. Startled I flung the bowl of tuna and mayonnaise up in the air. The bowl exploded on the floor, shooting tuna and chunks of ceramic across the kitchen floor. I ran to the door as fast as I could, but the hooligans were already running down the block by the time I got out. Though they were running out of the cul-de-sac I know it must have been some of the brats who live on the cul-de-sac. Why else would my house be targeted?
And this was just the first occurrence. Later that same day Catherine’s feline companions were back on my lawn, and the neighborhood hoarder had a new load of junk in his car. Herbert the hoarder was all set up with two dishwashers, a hot tub, an old blanket, and a pile of bricks. It seemed like a successful haul for a ridiculous hoarder. By the day’s end the back of his truck was cleared and ready for new rubbish. The junk he had collected was stashed away in his backyard, joining the barrage of other trash seeping into the ground behind Herbert’s house.
I know they’re on to me. They must know my plan. They must know that I am trying to get them out of here before I am driven insane. I must remove them from this cul-de-sac my time is running up! If I don’t make progress soon I am going to go mad. This is just too much. I cannot take it much longer!
Last night I had to cover my windows with clear painter’s plastic to keep the house cool over night. I planned on waking up at the decent hour of 9am to go and buy some new windows. However, I was awaken by a rooster this morning. My neighbor bought a damn rooster! What the hell is going on here?!
They must know. They are acting out way worse than they ever have. It is like they’re in cahoots or something.
I have no idea of what I am going to do. How do I stop all of these annoyances? Will I have to form an alliance with some of my other neighbors? Who would I ally with?