The Neighbors - vol. 1 part 1

 Ah yes neighbors... a never-ending supply of grist for this lovely mill known as the lounge... as you may recall i once had a houseful of crackers living next to me who took a distinct disliking to me after i busted one of them stealing packages off a front porch... the front porch a a guy who belonged to one of the most dangerous motorcycle gangs around mind you, though apparently he didn't anymore (smirk) who i then had to go to court as the material witness to the crime, thus ingratiating myself to the biker guy and pissing off the crackers who were living in their boss's old house while doing some work for him. (Incidentally the crackers and their employer both ended up suing each other for various reasons which gave me a hearty old chuckle, i laughed one day when the owner/boss was back and cleaning up the place to sell and proceeded to ask rather innocently if the cracker crew had been any trouble and my response was, "are you fucking kidding me?" to which i regaled him with said tale and then added, "which i'm pretty sure you knew about", the whole time smiling pleasantly.)

The cracker house is now owned by a cool couple who moved from Budapest and their young daughter, tree-hugging lefties like myself who i happen to think are swell neighbors, laid back and easygoing, who also happen to enjoy a good puff now and then. On the other side of me once lived two college professors who i quite liked, she was from Germany and he was American, weird and quirky to say the least, the husband and i used to have great conversations about the state of things and the tyranny of the Merkin taliban and their orange shitgibbon leader. When i heard they were moving i was bummed and then of course came the thought that i hope some asshole orange shitgibbon lover doesn't move in and fly the shitgibbon flag or something like that, put up religious statues in the front yard, any number of weird suburban shit that passes for "normal" but to me is a bit odd. Of course i am a mellow sort and though i wouldn't harsh on anyone's religious statues regardless my take on the scam it would be difficult to deal with some vocal christian-theo-fascist shithead. 

The sale and moving in of the new neighbor happened rather quickly and i can't say i wasn't a bit disconcerted when i saw the Missouri plates on the cars parked outside. To be fair not everyone from Missouri is a moron but then again this is the state that elected Ichabod Hawley to the senate. But being the everlasting stoner i'm generally just cool to all people unless of course they asshole it up which in turn can make me regress into the ways of my youth where i could be a bit more than a major asshole and more like General Asshole. 

As previously stated i have a rather active imagination when it comes to the world around me, it entertains me, i find it interesting to create narratives in my head and work on said narratives when i'm say? doing yard work... (remember that, it comes up later, lol!) So when Bubba and Ayn moved in i met them with an open mind. Bubba was short and round and pleasant, a nondescript bumpkin who smiled and waved if he saw you walking by. Ayn, dubbed so for her Ayn Rand-ish hairstyle, was cold and aloof from the start (a bit like Ayn). I had honed my people reading skills in the game and i could tell from the start the Ayn did not particularly like me or what she knew of my ways (which was nil) and that was fine. I'm not of the particular ilk that feels the need to be besties with my neighbors, i'll stop and talk but for the most part i keep to myself and do my thing yet when i do talk i don't really conceal much, it doesn't take long to understand i'm pretty far left of center and not all that concerned with the trappings and consumption of the American Dream. It was easy to discern that Ayn was the brains and the boss of the outfit and Bubba was the lackey. Hell in theory Bubba and i could be buddies as our plights are somewhat similar but i believe Bubba really enjoys being told what to do and when to do it, in short he needs a momma. 

I soon found out Ayn was an architect, or used to be, which somewhat made sense yet didn't. She seemed devoid of any artistic inclinations yet had the cold detached demeanor of a math teacher or scientist. Add in the fact that i believe growing up in the rather conservative midwest where things like being gay were forbidden and i think Ayn had been repressing some things. Just another theory of course. Bubba had stated that they moved here because they wanted to be a part of their grandkids lives, a valid enough reason, except i never see any grandkids and they are at home almost constantly. It got me thinking... they told me they moved here for the grandkids, i never see any grandkids, i never see their son? daughter? whoever and so there must be only one logical explanation for this... they're obviously in the witness protection program. And so i began devising their backstory which involved Ayn and organized crime and her helping to conceal bodies or what not until i stopped and thought maybe Bubba was the actual Don and that his whole yuk it up persona was just a brilliant act. Like i said, over-active imagination. The Breadwinner of course thought my theory utterly ridiculous but i countered, have you seen any grandkids? shit didn't add up. I even mentioned to a friend one day while ripping dabs that i was somehow gonna work that into a conversation with Bubba to see how he reacted, something along the lines of, "boy that sure was a lot of rain we had wasn't it? so what's it like being in the witness protection program?" My friend asked if i could film it. 

Of course one must stay on their toes when it comes to things like this and it was just the other day the Breadwinner was telling me that she had heard baby noises coming from their house. I countered, did you see said baby? She said no. I explained it was most likely a prop and a tape recording (fat shithead Alex Jones doesn't have shit on me... though i'm not a raging dickhead like Alex...  and of course that might depend on who you ask), i also noticed a baby seat in the back of Ayn's car and thought to myself, my my these people cover all the bases. Then just the other day i saw a young woman and a baby and Ayn was actually smiling. This did nothing to dissuade me from my theory as i chalked it up to the guvment providing quality actors/handlers who show up adhering to said cover story while pretending to be family so they can see how the witnesses are getting on in their new home. Now one could say i'm as out of my mind as Aunt Q in her internet chat room but i don't really take this all that seriously... though the fact when i pretend to it pisses off the Breadwinner makes it all the more entertaining. It's fun countering the BW's statements with answers or arguments with elaborate made up facts from the backstory i've devised, all based entirely in fiction mind you. 

My other neighbor particularly enjoyed my story and since Bubba and Ayn were gutting their backyard he even mentioned that he thought they might be doomsday preppers building a shelter in the backyard while i said that was an excellent theory... or it might be a panic room in case the people they ratted out, or their associates, happened to find them. They could then let their handlers know they were in danger and the cavalry could ride in. Goddam! the burbs are a weird place... to be cont...