Monday, April 23, 2012

Heartless Neighbor

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The Heartless Neighbor

Hello, my name is Fred, and I live at 145 Evergreen Terrace, in a small little, remote suburb. I have a cozy little home, as well as a giant wrap around wood porch. The home has a beautiful four post framework. Here the nights are always quiet after 0 p.m., as the days are. However, every afternoon around a ruckus is brought about. Hooting and hollering overwhelm my household. This has been driving my insane for days, months, and years now.

Some people hate their neighbors while others do not. But, I will tell you, I am neither. I just need to set some ground rules for my heartless neighbor. He is a rude and cruel little thing. He has eyes squinty and black like the devil. His dark brown hair reminds me of the aftermath of a horrific fire. He stands twice as tall as me, he is about four feet tall. He is boney and lanky like a slinky. Oh my goodness and he is always so filthy. His face is consistently covered in dirt and food. His hair is so greasy and muddled. The boy acts as evil and horrible as he looks. Let me prove my point.

You see, the boy comes home in the afternoon and proves his devil ness each time. He has no respect for his floor neighbor, me. He runs in the gate; throws his bag of books at my home. After that I seem him out of my window sitting on the ground playing with little green men. Then, he throws them and spreads them across my yard, like cotton tree furs. Soon he is onto his next venture with a ball. He bounces it against my house and all around the perimeter of my door. Sure, most people wood try to ignore this, but I just cannot. The ball has got to be two feet in diameter and with every bounce it gives off almost a ring. And with each bounce past my window I can not help but to look because it is a hideous orange, almost like Chevy Orange. The unvarying clunk, cLunK, CLUNK drives me up the wall. Shortly, there after, he leaves for a while and then returns with all the more energy. He viscously swings the gate open and then slams it closed. He then runs up to his level and begins to jump around erratically. With each solitary move I feel my ceiling slowly collapsing on my head. The creaking a thumping could drive a sane creature like me mad; after all he carries on for hours at a time, as if there were some sort of trampoline or springed area for my overhead.

Then when he is bored with that he sits and watches his box of pictures for a few more hours of the day. No, he cannot just watch it calmly or tranquilly, but at levels of unworldly volumes. He plays it so loudly and clearly that I hear every word and have ‘I love you, you love me’ in my head. All this in one day would not be enough, oh no, he then pushes his toy truck in and out of my house, through my windows and door. This distracts me and my setting. The boy just doesn’t seem to notice.

This is just a slight taste of the boy’s deviant behavior. Right now I am fed up and sick of it. I cannot bare it for another night. Tonight I will step on to my front porch and give him a piece of my mind.

As the time approaches I prepare. I put on my best and comb my fur. I looked in the mirror and was amazed. Who else has little, squinty orange eyes, and a bright green coat to match? I grin to have a glance at my perfectly tarnished, jagged and sharp teeth. Then I look at my manicure of thick, long, yellow, and pointy nails. I check my hand, incase I must introduce myself, dazzling hands of hide. Damn, I look good. The time was here, it had come sooner than I thought it would.

Suddenly, the gate swung open and the boy, accompanied by as taller person, was carried into the room screaming and kicking. As the tall person closed the gate the beam of light that had appeared behind them disappeared and all that was left was the soft glow of a light on the outer wall of my property. It is time, it is now or never, I thought to myself.

I began to tip-toe out of my door and around the perimeter of the house. I paused to look around, for I had never seen this much out of home. There were buildings that looked like book shelves, and towers that looked like dressers. I was amazed, it looked like my room. I quickly get back on track and continue to the boy. I gently tap him on the shoulder, he does not move so I hastily tug on his shoulder. He quickly and skittishly rolls over and jumps back. He gawks with his mouth hanging open, I reach my hand out and he begins to stutter. I attempt to speak and he jitters. Finally I muster up my voice, “hello, my name is Fred, and I live underneath you.” He jumped up and began to make his way to the gate, never turning his back to me. He reaches for the knob and runs. He is screaming and crying. I hear him burst another gate open and he shouts, “ma, ma, MONSTER….. I ain’t never going back”.

You know I did not quite understand what he meant by monster, but oh well. Since that night my home has been peaceful and the boy has not even come back. I was not mean or harsh to him. I was barely even able to get my name out. You know, the only time I even see him anymore is when it is dark. He lifts the curtains, pokes his head underneath, and I wave. However, for some weird reason he runs out of the gate every time.



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