Guess what? No! Willie is NOT using my shed as a grow house! NO! I have not put up the "Hookers "R" Us" "OPEN for Business" door sign! I haven't even been found passed out naked in the front bird bath while yammering about the fucking sky falling and the pool shrinking! Your guesses suck tits, people!
"I have new neighbors! Yep! That's right! Brand spankin' new neighbors! Now, I know what you're thinking,
"OH HOLY HELL! NO ONE WARNED THEM!"
"ABORT!! ABORT!! DON'T BUY THE HOUSE, PEOPLE!
RUUUNNNNNN, YOU DUMB FUCKS, RUUUUUNNNNN!
I know, I know, but hang on! History doesn't have to repeat itself, right? I'm the simpler, kinder, changed by life, Dutchess. I am the Dutch that can learn from history instead of being confined by it! I can be informed, and empowered by it instead of being dictated by it! This is going to be GREAT! I'm finally going to be a good neighbor!
I cut a pretty bouquet of fresh cut Peonies from my front flower bed, wrapped them in a pretty bow, and went and welcomed them to the neighborhood. I smiled, made nice, and I was charming, dammit! I was feeling pretty great about my new self!
Well, a couple days later, the wife of the new neighborhood BFF's knocked on the door. She noticed my grandbaby playing outside earlier and figured him to be close to the same age as her darling rug rat. She went on to say that she really needed to run to the grocery store and wondered if I'd be interested in watching kid dynamo for an hour.
SHUT UP! I can hear you laughing, asshats! These people don't know old me! I have too changed! I even took down the pentagram, and the sign over the door that says we keep and eat all girl scouts whom dare enter!
So, of course I said yes! She then tells me her little angel is gluten free, and she doesn't believe in sugary soda. The hell? Believe in it or not, bitch, the soda exists! But, I smile, say sure, and wave buh-bye.
Ok, here I am going to stop and explain that I am old. I'm not even sure what the fuck gluten free means, but I decide a snack is in order. What better way to get to know a child than to feed them? Genius. I called for my grandson, and he and rug rat sit at the breakfast table.
I decide Kool-aid isn't a soda, and grab a couple boxes and hand them to the boys. The phone rang, and it was some asshole telemarketer. I swear, I had my back to the boys for 3.437 seconds and I turn around to ask the boys if they would like an apple, because an applies healthy, right?
Holy Fuck! The grandson and his angelic rug rat sidekick have managed to get the lid off of a box of Costco cupcakes and have crammed as many as they could into those darling little piranha mouths in some whacked out competition!
I glance at this once angelic kid who now is in a wild eyed eating frenzy with a face smeared in frosting muttering something about how could his commie bitch parents never have told of this bliss!
Well, fuck! I don't think those are gluten free, and maybe the kool-aid wasn't such a good idea.
Needless to say, when Mom picked up kid dynamo, he was at the height of his sugar rush and kinda reminded me my Uncle Shorty. A tiny, sugared up, flesh colored blur of fury with incoherent stuttering, and swearing, pinging off the walls. Sorry!
I think my neighborhood BFF status just lost an F.
Pass the wine, Please. This good neighbor shit is hard!