On a regular day I can overhear some of the most awkward conversations but nothing comes close to the drunken ramblings and arguments of true weirdos. To the untrained ear, this may sound like like a crock. However, my expertise in this area–since I live above a bar–is extensive and is irrefutable. Allow me to offer this gem of an example…
While walking home on a beautifully sunny summer evening, I overheard this charming gentleman talking on his cell phone, as it were, to a chum. The gentleman, clad in stonewashed jean shorts and a guinea t-shirt, the signature wear of his trashy kind, proceeds to invite the neighborhood into a boisterous exchange.
Yeah, I’m doing great! How you doin’ guy? he says whilst hoisting his phone against his ear so that his arm formed a perfect triangle.
Aw, nothin’. Note the friendly-brutish vernacular.
It’s cool, man. Me?! Can’t complain. Then after a pause, Never better. I’m down to 4 bags (of heroine) a day, man. It’s cool. Y’know. I’m fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.
I shudder. You get the idea. Truly inspirational these repartees over illegal substances.
But that wasn’t the only fly-on-the-wall experience I managed to enjoy this past weekend. On Sunday, there was the full-out blowout that happens at least twice a year. I know, I know. Why didn’t it happen sooner? I was beginning to get worried there for a moment. But this scene didn’t disappoint. Here are your players:
- Drunken whore
- Wack-job neighbor who just got out of jail
- Mother of Wack-job
The policeman were bit players, so I’m not mentioning them at all except to say that they had orchestral seats to this fiasco.
Scene Opens with sudden shouts and banging on what seemed to be a front door. Enter Wack-job who proceeds to slam his fist against it while being antogonized by the Drunken Whore inside.
DW – What the f*** did I tell you?! Keep bangin’ on that door and I’m callin’ the cops!
Wacko – I told you to get the f*** out!! You make me sick you f***** c***!!
DW – What the f*** did you call me?!
Wacko – You heard me, you b****! Who you doin’ now?? You ain’t nothin’ but a f***** whore b**** slut!!!
DW – F*** you!!
Wacko (pacing back and forth in front of the building) – Just leave! You hear me?? Get your s*** and get the f*** out!!!
DW – You can’t tell me what to do! Don’t make me call the cops, Wacko. I swear to god that if you come near me, I will press charges!!
Wacko – Go ahn then, you whore!! See if I give a s***.
Wacko’s Mom (coming out of nowhere) – Hey! Hey! Wacko, what’d I tell ya? Stay the hell outta this!
Wacko (protesting) – But, ma!…c’mon!
Wacko’s Mom (chastising) – Stop it, now. I mean it!!
Wacko shuts up long enough to see the cops show up: no sirens, just flashing lights.
DW (gets out of the house ranting like a lunatic) while Wacko just sits there.
Cops – What seems to be the problem, ma’am.
DW – I’m pressing charges on this motherf***** if he comes near me again. Now, I just wanna get my stuff and–I’ve had it with him…
Cops – Calm down, ma’am…just explain to us what the problem is.
DW – This motherf***** is crazy!!! He keeps threatening me and–
Wacko – Now, you just shut the hell up!
DW – You see?! He won’t leave me to get my clothes.
Wacko – ‘Cause she’s goin’ to f*** that a**h***…
The cops look on in amazement as Wacko approaches as if he’s gonna hit the whore. They stop him just in time (darnit!).
Cops – Sir, you can’t do that.
DW – I want him arrested. That’s what I want. I wanna press charges!!
Wacko (approaching the cops with his hands in imaginary handcuffs) – Take me in then!
DW – You see?! You see this officer? He’s crazy! I want him arrested!
Wacko (screaming) – GO AHEAD AND ARREST ME!!! I WANNA GO TO JAIL!!! ANYTHING TO GET AWAY FROM YOU, YOU CRAZY B****!!!!!
The madness lasted for about a solid hour. Then, just as I thought the fun was over, they started again about two hours after everyone had left. Much of the same and the cops arrived to see the magic again.
With so much endless entertainment, I can’t help but love living here. Who could? Seriously.