small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: weekend

Monday, July 24

weekend


This weekend I got together with some friends and after bolting the newly painted fenders and other assorted pieces to the trike kit, took it and the cop bike to a shop across town to be assembled. And as the custom of men doing manly things on a Saturday morning, afterwards we stopped and ate meat and smoked cigarettes on the side of the road.

It was a big relief to be actually getting the bike and trike kit put together and hopefully in a couple of weeks we’ll know if it’s a winner or not. Anyway, I’m seriously thinking of moving in the fall. I love my neighborhood and apartment but getting broke in too has set my teeth on edge. Plus the company that owns my building has this really bad habit of renting to art institute students and these muthafuckers always seem to come in threes.

Last week the apartment above me got rented out to three young guys and Sunday morning I woke up to not only the back parking lot covered with beer bottles, cans and shit, but the areas around my back door as well as the bed cover on my fuckin pickup. I figured it was them having a party because any body with a pair of eyes could follow the trail of bottles up the back steps to the second floor. And ain’t nobody in the building but me and them.

So after the break-in and this, my patience has about been worn the fuck out. I really wanted to go up and beat on their fuckin door and have a come to jesus talk but Michelle amongst people urged restraint due to them thinking my current frame of mind isn’t so good. So I penned for what passes for me a nice note detailing that I’ve been here a long time and having friends over for a beer is cool and all that but leaving bottles and other bullshit on someone else’s property is just fuckin disrespectful.

I also mentioned that I don’t ask for nothing from my neighbors but a little peace and quiet and to respect my shit. I don’t bother you and you don’t bother me and we’ll get along just fine. I left the note in their mailbox along with my name and number so we’ll see what happens on that front and how things look after I get home today.


"and the monkey flipped the switch"

2 Comments:

Blogger The Beltway B@stard said...

I remember growing up - if you got home after 9:00 PM you kept quiet as to not disturb the neighbors, if you dropped something then you picked it the hell up, and if someone asked you to do something for courtesy sake - you did it! Otherwise it was your pop's belt on your backside.

I hope it works out for you. Punks need a real lesson in manners.

2:06 AM  
Blogger Happy In Bag said...

I'm sorry, Death, that you're on a bad-luck streak. It took me several weeks to calm down after I came home from work to my Waldo apartment only to discover burglars inside. They ran away. I kept wishing they'd come back so I could deliver some justice.

8:52 AM  

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