Fri, August 18, 2006
My downstairs neighbors are... oh, how to say it without seeming un-PC or uncharitable? Well, they are nice guys, and, um, hicks. yes, hicks.
I have lost count of the number of pickup trucks in the driveway. There are two barns full of toys ideal for the Hick Olympics: ATVs, boats, motorcycles, dirtbikes, snowmobiles, you name it; plus an assorted number of like minded folks that casually drop by for a visit each evening. But, like I said, nice guys; always happy to say hi and always willing to share a beer.
Oh, yes, beer.
An untold number of cases of Bud Light enters the house by the case, leaving in the form of piss as one after another they stand at the outer circle of the Tiki torches and piss away into the darkness, cigarette casually poised between lips, not even stopping the stories and laughter all the while.
I'm upstairs, in my pj's, curled up on my velvet Elizabethan chair, watching a movie.
"Jess, hey! Jess!"
I look out the window and see 10 or so people sitting around on lawn furniture, a big case of Bud Light on the table. All 10 peer up at me through the light of the Tikis, and I stare down through the gloom to see what they want.
"Hey, we wanna see fire! Give us a fire show!"
I am faintly annoyed; just last week all of these fine young men with large trucks neatly avoided helping me go buy a kitchen table, forcing me to ask my mom to use her brand new Infinity bat mobile/SUV. I'm not in the mood to entertain them.
"Where's the cash?" I say, "I'm professional, you know; this shit ain't free anymore."
(I had shown them what I do the first week I moved in; I felt it a nieghborly thing to do, a bonding experience I guess.)
Well they all just laughed at this so I went back to my movie.
Ten minutes later, I hear a knock at my kitchen door. There's the best lookin' of them, with the child in tow (one of the guys downstairs had a kid with his high school sweetheart, born the summer after graduation from said high school.)
"Uh, Caleb here wants to see fire. Tell her, Caleb."
"Well, look at you, shameless, bringing the child here to convince me!"
He looks sheepishly down at his beer but grins; "He really does want to see it."
I look at the child, 4 years old, precocious, bold and sporting a mohawk.
"You wanna see fire, is that it?"
He looks up at me and says, "Yep... kitty!!! I wanna pet your kitty!"
"We'll even hook up music for you."
"Yeah, not tonight, I am watching a movie and it just got good!"
"Oh- are those pyjamas? Oh. Maybe we'll ask you tomorrow."
And off they go.
Was I invited to have a beer, before all this began? No. I was annoyed. I will not be there tonight. I'm not a trained donkey to be trotted out for your party! (Unless of course you give me money...)