Posts Tagged 'Crazy Neighbors'

Crazy Neighbors, Part Five

Now that you’ve heard all about the crazy folks I encountered while living in paradise, it’s time to tell you about the Redneck family.  After Hawaii, we were sent to live in Louisiana.  It’s a cool place and all, but the base we were sent to is located smack in the middle of NOWHERE!  Seriously, the town around the base has a few restaurants and a Super Wal-Mart, which we called “the mall.”  We were excited to move there, though, because all of our family lived only a short 2 1/2 hour drive from the base. 

When we first arrived in Louisiana, it took a while for us to get housing again.  Luckily, some of our friends from Hawaii had moved there eight months before and had a large apartment where we could stay in the interim. 

After a week and a half of sleeping on our friend’s son’s metal bunkbed, we were given a choice between a two bedroom-one bathroom flat or a two-bedroom, one bathroom townhouse.  We chose the townhouse.  It had a very strange layout, the closets were HUGE, but the rooms were small.  I had to stuff some of our furniture into the closets, in fact.  There was a carport we shared with the Redneck family.  It was more of a curse than a blessing.

The Redneck family had three children.  The oldest was about 10, the middle one about 7, and the youngest was about 2, I think.  They were all boys.  They all were hell on wheels.  They all had different fathers.  (The middle one obviously didn’t have the same daddy.)  I learned that from their mother, who was a bottle blonde with about 10 teeth in her head.  The teeth she did have were brown.  See a pattern here?

She looked somewhat like this.Mrs. Redneck looked somewhat like this.

I met Mrs. Redneck at the bus stop, along with the other moms who were there.  There was Greta, a wonderful German woman whose husband had been deployed for 18 months.  There was Robin, who tanned every single day and obviously cared a lot about her appearance.  I was the only one whose husband was not deployed.  Over the weeks, Mrs. Redneck told me how she couldn’t sleep at night, how her baby stayed up all night with her and then they both slept all day when the other boys were at school.  I also noticed that the older children were always wearing dirty clothes.  Not as in, they wore them twice in a week.  Dirty as in, stains all over, wearing the same pants three days in a row.  O-kay. 

The only problem we really had with her at first was her tendency to play music late at night.  It wasn’t that the music was really loud, because it wasn’t.  It was that she had the bass turned up so loud that the walls shook, and it was impossible to sleep.  At least three times a week, either Douche or I would have to go knock on the door and ask her to turn it down.  I think most people would get the hint and keep the bass turned down, but not Mrs. Redneck.

Later, since we had to share a carport, we were constantly picking up trash that the little Redneck children had left on the ground.  The older kids were always outside playing and eating and goofing around.  Wrappers, cans, napkins, etc.  There was always something on the ground.  Even though the trash and recycling bins were RIGHT at the top of the driveway!!!  There were times when we’d have to move bicycles or toys out of the way so we could park our car.  Kids will be kids, I know, so we let it slide, moved the stuff, and went on about our business.

About six months after we moved in, Mr. Redneck came home from Iraq.  A surprisingly handsome man, I wondered what he was doing with this dirtbag woman.  (Scratches head.)  Not long after he came home, they showed up one day with a Harley Davidson motorcycle on a trailer, which they then proceeded to park right in the middle of the shared driveway.  I was always very careful when parking to pull up closer to the edge of our side, so as not to bump or mar the new bike.  I told my boys (now 8 and 4) not to touch it or even go close to it.    And they didn’t.   They were never outside unsupervised because they were too little.  Basically, we tried to keep to ourselves where they were concerned.  You know, stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours.

One evening, Mr. Redneck came to the door and asked Douche to come outside so they could talk.  A few minutes later, Douche came back in and told me that Mr. Redneck had a scratch on his Harley and was blaming ME for it!  He thought I must’ve hit it with my car door or one of our kids had done it.  At first, I was just stunned.  How could anyone think I did something to their property?!  Me, the one who has been so careful not to disturb said property.  The one who’s gone out of her way to be courteous.  Really? 

Then, though, I got angry.  Very angry.  I marched right outside and showed Mr. Redneck how my car door COULDN’T have hit his precious motorcycle, because the door and the scratch didn’t line up in any way, shape, or form.  My kids couldn’t have hit it with the back doors because we had a mini-van at the time (stop snickering), and the doors slid back, not out.  I also took it upon myself to inform him that my children were never outside alone, and if they HAD done something to someone else’s property, I would have let the owner know about it instead of waiting for them to ask.  I then told him that I knew one of his step-sons had rammed their bicycles into my van and dented it ON PURPOSE, but I hadn’t made a big deal about it.  I dared him to call the cops if he really thought I had done it.  Well, that worked.  He backed down, and we never heard another peep out of them.  We only lived in that place for a year, before moving to a larger apartment across base. 

Lucky for them, because I would’ve fucked a bitch up.


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