I woke up this morning to screaming--the kind of screaming that you know is words, but you can't make them out--the kind of screaming that makes you picture little chunks of the person's throat flying out of their mouth.
Accompanying that? Little girl's voice, little boy's voice, both as loud as possible.
Meet our new neighbors.
The have one volume: screaming. And they do it at night, in the morning, in the afternoon...whenever and wherever they are. It's a single mom and her 4 to 6-year-old son, plus some girl that doesn't belong to them but I can't figure out who she is.
When they moved in, they parked in our parking spots. That was our first impression. Strike one. Then, their ghetto friends came in their backfiring cars all day and all night for days. Strike two. Then, I watched her watch her son throw a cigarette package (what the fuck was he doing with a cigarette package?) into the grass and do nothing about it. Strike three.
Not to mention that the hallway reeks of cigarettes and occasionally weed. Not to mention the toys and sidewalk chalk left right at the bottom of the stairs. Not to mention the fact that the loudest noise we've had around here in the 3+ years we've lived here was traffic.
And last night Robb heard her out in the parking lot screaming at no one at the top of her lungs. "I HATE THIS FUCKING TOWN! ARRRGGGGH!!! I HATE IT!" and then her little kid goes, "I hate this town, too, Mommy. Let's go home."
Please? Please? Because if this keeps up, it's only gonna get worse for you.
Seriously...as far as neighbors go, they're the worst kind!
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We’re scaring away all the tourists.
15 hours ago
4 comments:
Hoo boy, sounds like you guys got yerselves some cham-peen neighbors. Hopefully they do, indeed, go home soon -- wherever that may be...
From June 2008 to June 2009 I had similar neighbors living in the flat directly under mine. It was a mother and 16-year-old daughter who fought incessantly. In another life, the mother might have made a fantastic Wagnerian alto, and the daughter could've been a first-rate auctioneer. First weekend I lived there, a huge argument erupted between them that went something like this (for effect, imagine Mo'Nique (as Mary in Precious) and a hyper, teenage fast-talking Raven-Symoné with a high-pitched voice in the respective roles):
Mother: You got herpes, bitch.
Daughter: No I don't!
Mother: You got a cold sore. A cold sore is a sign of herpes!
Daughter: (getting more hysterical) A cold sore is not a sign of herpes!
Mother: Yes, it is!
Daughter: No it ain't!
... and so on, back and forth.
My favorite was one Sunday morning when out of nowhere, I hear the mother bellow (and I use the word bellow deliberately), "I want some cream in my coffee!!"
There was also the side plot of the teenage daughter being pregnant (again), unsure who the father of the second baby was, and her current boyfriend seemingly unconcerned about any of it. It was very dramatic.
Wow. That sounds like it might at least be INTERESTING. This girl is boring on top of everything...just a dumb white girl.
OK, David, I loved that story. Sorry you had to actually live through it, though :)
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