And I really don’t give a shit. Really, I don’t. On the upside, the fuktard across the street finally quit with his fucking chain saw. Every morning, all day long for the past 3 weeks. If I ever talked to him I’d ask him what the hell he was preparing for. But after not having so much as even the smallest conversation in the 4 years since they moved in I guess it’ll remain a mystery. Until the apocolypse, anyway.
Quiet neighbors are good neighbors. 15 years ago everybody here talked to everybody; bonfires, clambakes, all that neighborly nonsense. Shit got old quick. That’s what fences are for…to keep the assholes out. Maybe in their minds, though, my fences are to keep the asshole in. Either way works for me. Thank God nobody around here ever had kids…just what I need, a neighborhood full of screaming ankle-biters. Fuck that…
Life's tough, wear a helmet. 