To be, or not to be...nice.

I admit to being slightly disappointed that nobody violently waved their hand to get my attention and then enthusiastically jumped up and requested that I tell them the updated story about The Neighbor. I suspect that you either knew I was going to tell it anyway, or you were worried that I'd use more naughty language than usual in my post.

Either way you'd be right.

So, if you are offended by 'effenheimers', or the Foxtrot part of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (aka wtf!), please bypass this particular blog update. :)

So then, here we go...

I'm one of those people that was raised by parents who said, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

I find this to be pretty solid advice, and have recently been passing the same wisdom down to my own children. (I was tired of hearing them call each other names and told them I'd be feeding them soap if they didn't stop. Of course, they knew I wouldn't... but they thought they found a way to outsmart me until they found out that I also speak the ancient and long lost language of "Pig Latin". So, instead of calling each other "retard" and "moron", they now call each other "re-re" and "mor-mor". I can't help but to find this funny.)

All that being said, I consider myself to be a pretty nice guy.
I like to do nice things for other people. I'm just like that.

However, there's always people out there who just rub you the wrong way. People that just give you a not-so-good gut feeling, or that you somehow instinctively avoid.

The Neighbor is one of Those People. (To me, at least.)

His name is Alvin. (I think.) I just call him Al...which he apparently hears as Alpha Male.

He has a wife and a dog.

I never remember his wife's name as she's one of those nondescript people who just blend in and you don't really notice unless they're with someone you recognize...or with their stupid little dog.

I don't suppose she much cares for me anymore than he does, because one day I got home from a 13 hour work day at the same time she let Stupid Little Dog out the back door of their place. (Our houses are arranged in such a way that their back door is visible from my front door.) As I was walking up to my house, Stupid Little Dog ran over and snarled at me with her little fangs all barred and menacing and giving off as much loathing hatred as one might get from a stupid little dog.

Well, instead of opening the door the rest of the way and calling the mutt back over to their yard, Whatever Her Name Is stealthily backed into her place without closing the door to alert me to her presence - and there she watched my reaction to this scenario.

I wasn't in the mood. I squared off, bent toward the dog a bit, and looked straight at the snarling little bitch (which dogs take as a sign of aggression) and said (speaking loudly enough for Whatever Her Name Is to hear) "Just try it you ugly little mutt. I will soooo fucking kick you..." Then I stood up straight, took a couple steps toward the dog to send it scampering away, shot Whatever Her Name Is a glance that let her know that I not only knew she was there but that I also wasn't much impressed by her, and then I turned and entered my house.

Beer with me. (Because it's hot and humid and I could really go for a cold one right now.) This all ties in with the events which took place on Friday, the last.

OK then. Details have been satisfactorily placed. Let us now proceed with the story.

Last Friday I arrived home from work and decided to attack the gardening project. I had a steak thawed out so, after checking to be sure the slightest breeze was blowing into my face as I faced The Neighbor's house, I lit a fire in the fire pit near where I was swinging my pickax.

I suspected The Neighbor would be his normal nosy self and would be sure to check that I wasn't burning anything "green", so I used a couple logs. I figured this would be acceptable to both parties as The Neighbor had, earlier this very month, told me that I could have the firewood if I cut down the huge Ash tree in his back yard. (Like I have a shortage of wood or something. He's just too cheap to pay to have it done - but wise enough to not attempt it himself.) I also made sure the fire pit had the cover in place so that he might be even more satisfied.

He wasn't.

At least I saw him coming this time. His ninja skills are either fading or my Spider Sense tingled more than the last two times he approached. (If "Spider Sense" is a trademark of Spider-Man, Marvel Comics, or any other entity...please accept my apology and insert "fucktard detector" in that spot.)

At this point I should maybe mention that he was the former head of security at the local casino and that he's probably used to people my age jumping at his every whim. (I know other things he's not aware of my knowing...like the back part of his shed isn't even on his property, and his daughter has fake breasts.)

So, upon noticing that his approach wasn't going to be undetected, he blustered out, "I'm really starting to think you're intentionally trying to piss me off!!!"

Since I already knew why he was foaming around the mouth, I calmly stated, "Al, I've done some checking. Fire pits are allowed in town, especially when they're covered and used for cooking."

He exclaimed, "There's city ordinances. I've called the cops!"

I said, "OK. When they get here, if they tell me to put it out I will happily do so. Until then, I'm going to let it burn so I can grill on it."

That pissed him off even further. Apparently he thought I have a criminal past and my seeming lack of interest about his life is the result of my own desire to go unnoticed.

So the conversation went back and forth, with him doing his best to hold onto his self-appointed Alpha Male status by demanding that I give in to his wishes. I (still calmly, at this point) told him that I'm sorry that he doesn't like the smell of wood smoke, but "The smoke isn't blowing toward your house and I'm going to be grilling here in a little bit."

He asked, "Why can't you use the other fire pit so the smoke blows toward his house?" (meaning the only other neighbor on the street) At this point I was done listening to his snivelling, for if the smoke was bad enough to bother him, why on earth would he want it going to our other neighbor's place?

I said, "Because I'm not working over there and I wouldn't be over there to supervise it!"

He shouted, "How would you like it if I had a fire going and the smoke was going into your house?!"

I paused in my work so as to look directly into his eyes. "I guess I'd have the common sense to close my windows."

After a quick survey of my house, where he was disappointed to discover that my windows were indeed closed... and my doors as well...he snarled, "I don't have to put up with this! I'm going to get the other neighbors together and we're going to drive you out!!!" (Is it werewolves, vampires, mad scientists, or warlocks they do that to? Whatever. If any of them need a pitchfork to carry, I have a couple they can use. I even have enough yard tools for the neighbor that The Neighbor would like me to send smoke toward to use - if that particular neighbor should care to participate in my beheading, or drive out, or whatever the assembled lynch mob plans for me.) "I've lived here for 30 years!", the neighbor stated with satisfaction. (Like we were both Union employees and he had higher seniority or something.)

I thought, "Oh? Well, good! You've been here long enough for the cops to know you're an asshole! Shoot, I've only been here for 4 years and I pretty much figured it out right away!"

I didn't say that. I just went back to my digging and said, "Go home, Al."

He yelled, "I'll come up here with a fire hose and..."

"Piss off, Al."

"FUCK YOU!"

"Fuck you, Al."

"How long does it take to grill on your fire pit?"

"Maybe five minutes."

"Then why has it been going for the last three hours?!" (I'd probably been home for half an hour at this point.) "When I looked up here a bit ago, the flames were shooting up to here!" (He indicated a spot about chest high.)

"Because I'm not making a damn hot dog or something I'm sticking directly in flames! There's two logs on the fire. When they've burned enough to where they're ready to cook on, I'll do so!"

"I don't care what you're burning!" (Oh? Then why are you here?) "Why can't you just load the branches up and haul them out? You back that trailer up here about 50 times a week!"

Now here I have to admit that I was a bit pleased he's noticed my trailer backing skills. I realize it's only because he's so concerned that something might happen to his precious camper, but it still makes me happy. (even though the number is exaggerated by about 47 to 49)

I guess he wasn't listening to the part about me using logs. Oh well. I said, "Because I can't grill in the trailer!"

He said a couple other things I don't recall right off hand because they weren't worth hearing at the time he said it, so I finally said, "Get off my property, Al."

He sputtered, "This is a public road! I can be anywhere on here and..."

I'd looked up from my work at the first sentence.
Damn. He was indeed on the road. He didn't need to finish his sentence because he was right.

I said, "Oh. And so you are. Well...stand there then. I don't care."

This, of course, sent him homeward. There was no way in hell he was about to do something I told him to do. (It didn't shut him up, but at least he was moving the right direction.) He paused, made a sweeping arm gesture toward the end of my little dead-end street and said, "Maybe you should consider cleaning your area up! Look at this! It's a public road and you've got a lawnmower, a tiller, a..."

I said, "Right. Because there's just soooo much drive through traffic!" (For those of you who haven't been following along, my street is just an alleyway that at some point The Fucktard, um...Neighbor, had somehow gotten the city to pave and call a street. There's no turn around at the end of it, and I own both of the properties at the end so there's no reason for anyone not coming to my place to even drive up.)

"That doesn't matter! It's still a public street!"

I, more than anyone, am aware of this. This is why it annoys me to have to weed the cracks and leaf blower all the dirt down it so I can load it up and haul it out a couple times a year. I somehow figure this should maybe be the cities responsibility. So I just gave him the silent treatment on that one.

I guess he wasn't done yet, for as he got to the area that divides our property he yelled back, "You better know where this property ends!"

I said, "You're the one that pulled out the markers! If you want to know where it is, you can pay to have them put back!"

"I KNOW WHERE IT IS!!!", he blustered.

I mumbled, "Good. Keep your fucking dog off my property while you're at it."

Oops. He heard me. I suppose my voice does carry a little on a windless day when smoke wouldn't be blowing...

He blew up. "YOU BETTER NEVER TOUCH THAT DOG!"

"I never have touched your dog."

"YOU BETTER NEVER TOUCH THAT DOG OR IT'LL BE THE LAST DOG YOU EVER TOUCH!!!"

That sounded a bit like a threat to me. The ironic part is, during the entire conversation up to this point, I had felt like he was trying to get me to slip and make some kind of a threat toward him!

I responded, "Like I said...I've never touched your dog. But I'm telling you right now that if that stupid little mutt ever does actually bite me, I'll kick the little fuck across the gawd-damned street!"

Then he went into some kind of maniacal, nonsensical babbling that I couldn't understand, which was just as good as not saying anything at all. I suppose I could have even pretended it was an animal making the noise, but then I would have felt obligated to track the thing down and put it out of misery.

So, not to be any more of an ass myself, I went in and brought out my steak and grilled it up. I put out the fire and sat there and enjoyed the steak all by itself. (See, mom and dad? You don't really have to eat more than just meat!) As I was bringing in the dishes, The Neighbor walks around the front of his camper, looks at me and says (in non-gibberish), "I hope you choke on it!"

Whoa! Delayed reaction there, buddy! I'm already done.

I said. "All right."

He apparently was still hoping to set me off, so he said it again.
And again I said, "All right."

Then things were quiet for a while. He was doing his thing in his yard and I was doing my thing in mine. For some reason my Fucktard Detector told me I should shoot a glance his direction, and when I did it was just in time to see him bury the head of a spade in the yard between our places. I said, "Make sure that's on your side, Al." (At this point I really didn't care if I pissed him off or not.)

If he said anything, I couldn't tell you what it was as I would have already tuned him out.

The day went on, and damn! Did I ever get stuff done! By the time I was ready to quit for the evening I had a full trailer of roots and unwanted growth to haul off to the community compost site, and so I did. (Thankfully, because a fresh batch of wood shavings had been dumped up there by the local tree service so I scored a trailer full of free mulch.)

But I had to chuckle when I looked over toward where The Neighbor had been working...

He had lined up 3 railroad ties, his utility trailer, and his riding lawnmower to divide our property. (Maybe he thinks the dead grass will help him sell the place faster. If dead grass is a selling point, I'll happily park my utility trailer, all 3 cars, all 5 of my riding lawnmowers, and however many push mowers I have scattered around the countryside on my lawn to help sell his place!)

Seriously. I'm heartbroken. I guess I can't bag his leaves and haul them out for free again this fall.

And then, on Saturday, I was awakened by the knock of a policeman at my door. (In describing this person to Steve - who I've mentioned in several earlier posts - he thought it was the town's Chief of Police. At any rate, the guy was friendly as could be.

I answered the door in a towel (I hadn't got up for the day yet) and invited him in. He said he was there with a complaint and asked if I was expecting it. (Well, yes. Yes I was. Otherwise I would have asked if he had a search warrant or if I was under arrest instead of inviting him in. I blame movies for knowing to do this.)

I just chuckled and said, "Yes. Hold on a sec while I get dressed."

Here he chuckled...and granted me permission to do so.

He started off by saying the complaint was from the neighbor, and that the neighbor "admitted to saying some things he shouldn't have said." (Gee. Ya think?)

So then he went over the complaint, and the city ordinances as they pertain to fire pits. (Turns out the firefighter I talked to was wrong. Fire pits actually aren't legal, they're just "tolerated" -because "everyone enjoys sitting around one." - Fucktard excluded, of course.)

I, in turn, just gave a quick apology and explanation to the officer. I said, "I did some grilling on it. It's the only day of the week I don't work and I was trying to get things done at home and enjoy myself at the same time. It shouldn't be a problem any more as I'm done working in the area where the fire pit is. I think the only reason there was a problem at all is because he's old and nosy and the fire pit was where he could see it, since the guy down there (pointing toward a house not visible from The Neighbor's place) also had a fire going yesterday. At any rate, you have my word that I won't have another fire where the pit is now. The crazy thing about this is he was an absolute dick each of the 3 times he came up here and he never once said 'please'!"

The officer laughed, thanked me for my time, and apologized for waking me up.

"Not a problem!" said I. "I've got a trailer full of mulch to put down and probably 30-some more plants to put in!"

He laughed again, said "Well, enjoy your day off!" and off he went.

This would have been a good spot to end this rather lengthy blog post, put there's updated material to add.

I gave David a quick run-down of the events when I picked him up on Saturday and told him to make sure he had Todd stay off of The Neighbors property.

On Monday morning, when I arrived home from work, there was an additional railroad tie added to the line - and when I walked into the house, David told me that The Neighbor had been out there for over an hour with some other guy who was wearing a safety vest and had a tape measure, and The Neighbor was pointing and directing and pacing off the line in huge steps...

If you knew the guy at all, you would totally be able to picture him doing this.

And you would smile because it would strike you funny.




Damn spellcheck! "Fucktard" is too a word! :)