Monday, November 7, 2011

Neighbors: What The Shit Do They Want?

      Yesterday, I and my neighbor had a spat. They, more or less, accused my humble canine of urinating repeatedly on their doorstep. I, of course, rebutted the accusation with a firm but, calm, "Fuck yourself, testicle licking shit bag.". I, am not one for flippant and belligerent finger pointing. Which I emphasized by flipping them off and threatening to knuckle punch their grandmother. A woman, whom I respect greatly for having conferred, personally, with Jesus, lived through the crusades and black plague and managed to become a bitch. Most notably she's also earned the title of "steamy pile of cunt" from the local chamber of commerce. After, said confrontation, I retreated back to my homestead to fume and also, bask in the glory of scathing, witty blows which were deftly executed by me. Also, I found myself pondering the very nature of "neighbor". I knew not, these people's names. Yet, there I was embroiled in a full on argument with them. This was my only interaction with them and it was brought on by "urination accusation". Which by the way, they were mistaken, for I was the one peeing on their door. The only defense I can offer is they are obnoxious, especially after a bottle and a half of Mexico's finest Tequila. I was drunk. Which, as I have explained before, isn't a valid excuse. What I did was inexcusable. From now on, I'll just stick to shitting. I promise.

See, a sorry face crafted with my own dump. 
What...uh...this means, It means I care. The title?
Shit face sorry? Face sorry shit? You decide.

      Why don't we know our neighbors? Are they dangerous? I mean, other than building shoddy meth labs in their basements. Probably not. Is it a belief that we, as individuals, should be autonomous? If that were true, who would do all the door pissing? It would be insane to pee on your own door step. Are we animals whizzing on our own domiciles? What has happened to the world? Some believe it to be a show of affluence, to ignore your neighbors. Like, we're better than those sorry bastards that live next door. They smell like door shit and look like trolls. This of course, isn't true. Well, I hope it's not. I think on some primal level we realize we all live in the same shitty neighborhood. Are you better than the whiny, ass monkey next door? No. We're all here and we're all queer. No. Wait. Not all queer, but, I'm assuming some of...okay...let me refine that: "We're all here and some of us (who are not me) are in fact queer.". That totally fucked up that sweet rhyme scheme. Dammit. 

I'm taking a survey: Here? Queer? or...both?
I'll put you down

      Today, we live among strangers in our own midst. It shouldn't be this way. It would be beneficial to you to go out and meet with these fellow neighborhoodians. I am speaking to the more adventurous among us to reach out, of course. I myself am terrified of human interaction to the point of being social retarded. My interactions, with other people, have deteriorated significantly over the years. Now, I believe when spoken to directly, my responses have been reduced to grunts, low growls and South Park quotes spoken out of context. All of which are followed with an awkward smile and a thrusting of my pelvis to accent my genitalia. This is a show of respect, no? I have never had clarification,  as whomever I've tried to "speak" with, has run away in abject horror...screaming. That reaction means "have a great day", yes? Ehh...I didn't think so. Damnit. Now I'll never be voted "King of The Neighborhood Watch". What? No kings? Then, what the fuck did those people want?

Uh..."Just like the victims of breast cancer there's something I'd like to get off my chest"
...pelvic thrust...GENITALS!

      So, go and talk to your neighbors, people. They're mostly harmless, I assure you. I know, because I observe them quietly from in between partially opened curtains, with binoculars. They seem nice. Rarely to they flail their appendages and fling their shit around. I think you'd like them. Bake a cake and take it over, start a conversation about "damned politicians" and how they run things into grounds. You'll smile, they'll smile and all will be right with the world. Then, when the time comes to defend yourselves against the unwashed immigrant hordes (Which, I am assured by the conservatives, are arriving any day.), you'll have partners with which to defend your scrappy, rough and tumble swath of land. If worse comes to worse, at the very least they'll be around to trip up and be used as a human buffer. A buffer for the barbarians to consume, as you make your escape. There's nothing wrong with that, right?

You look slow and weak. Would you like to be friends, neighbor?