Neighbors

Posted: April 30, 2011 in April 2011

I don’t like my neighbors. Some may take this as an act against God. He said love thy neighbor. Easy for him to say when he’s living in the same place as Mozart and Bruce Lee.

It took me months before I even talked to a single one of my neighbors. The guy next to me used to be a black guy in his 20’s that drove the same type of car as me. We both ended up getting different cars and no longer had an opening to a conversation. I heard him fight with his girlfriend once. Or his mom. I’m not one to judge who he was sleeping with.

The other neighbor I talked to lived above me. He was also black, a bit older. He would complain to me about whatever he could and before we ever talked he would nod to me as he sat on his balcony like the king that he was. He disappeared at the beginning of this year and I can only assume that the Illuminati are behind it, or he moved.

Next to him was a large Mexican family. They weren’t so much fat as they were plentiful. They didn’t speak English and the “dad” (not sure if he was the dad, but they called him that, Papi actually) sleeveless shirts a lot as men called Papi tend to do. They were loud sometimes, but never caused much trouble.

I am now the last man standing in this merry group of misfits. They are all gone but not forgotten, replaced with new duds that I am not as fond of.

The first to go was the guy who shared the same type of car as me. His replacement was a couple with their young son and two small, yippie dogs. They now have a new small yippie dog and no bedroom for their son. I imagine he sleeps on a bed of tiny dogs. Maybe the son was created as a bed for the dogs. I’m not sure. All I know is that the man of the house needs to stop wearing a robe outside. His ankles always have a rash. They never pick up after their dogs which is inconvenient considering I have to walk over their lawn to do my laundry. They’re lazy and wear robes. It’s like living next to a fat cult of two.

The Mexican family and the black man who would take shits above me disappeared around the same time. Their replacements also came back in around the same time. The Mexicans were replaced with a doppelganger of the family below them aka a fat couple with a child. They were noisy the first few weeks they moved in, but have since calmed down. I’m not exactly sure who lives there. I’ve seen a Judah Friedlander lookalike that makes funny noises and a black guy that sings radio requests into his phone outside my window. I thought at first I was being serenaded until he said some radio call letters and I know that my name isn’t WXRQ.

The worst of the bunch to move in now live above me. There are a lot of people there almost every night. I know there’s a kid named Jamal that is in the family because I heard “Stop it Jamal or I will smack you” followed up by a child crying. I think Jamal might be the 6 year old that opened my door one day when I was luckily not masturbating. His loss. There is a creepy man that stands on their balcony smoking and throws cigarettes down onto the ground. This bothers me, but it really isn’t even my lawn in the first place. I can build a snowman anywhere I want since I don’t have a designated space to do so. Maybe I’ll do it right behind their nice car that they own. Why do poor people without jobs own nice cars? I know this sounds like the setup to a clever pun, when in reality it is a question that I would really like an answer to.

I once saw a billboard that said “Love Thy Neighbor.” If I could piss 50 feet into the air and hit any target I would have tested it out right then and there.

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