Whatever floats your boat...
My Money's on the Junker
My neighbor, Robbie, is a Junker. A Junker is a person who combs the area with a pick-up truck and trailer for discarded objects that contain metal. They bring the items home and strip them for all recyclable scrap - then take them to the local facility to be weighed and paid.
Perhaps you are thinking, "Fantastic! Recycling!"
Yes and No.
This guy doesn't care about the earth. I've seen him release freon from air conditioners, pour oil and chemicals on the ground, litter the sidewalk with broken glass and plastic, etc.
His life is about maybe paying the bills and definitely getting shitfaced.
His operation is exceedingly loud. As I raise my brush to the canvas - he drops refrigerators from his tailgate onto the driveway, screams the F word..His voice carries whether he is angry or pleased or telling his old lady what to do.
She bought the house next to us a handful of years ago. The lots here are only 40 feet wide, so we are right on top of each other. She moved in with her son and 2 dachshunds. They were nice.
A year or so later this piece of work moved in with her. Within 2 weeks - her son - who was just at the age to start screwing up - moved out. A week later - the dachshunds moved out as well. Then the junking started.
He kept piling it up. Banging, pushing more in. Maestro was a puppy then - and had to be escorted outside to potty. (toy poodle puppies house train quickly, but take several months to "do" stairs) - we had a chain link fence with no privacy.
Robbie is built like a bull and is a know it all. So while I waited in the back yard for Maes to go - Robbie would say things to me like
"You already got your air conditioner on?, What are your electricity bills? You should buy your cigarettes online," etc.
He says the N word, the F word - and generally has to let everyone know how bright he is. It doesn't take long to realize he has a low opinion of women.
At first I hoped the Junking was a one time thing. Just one load. But it kept coming and kept piling up. The second week I approached him and asked him what his intentions were, how long I should expect for him to continue, and if he had a plan to eventually take his operation to a higher level by moving it out of a residential area.
He flew off the handle, cursing and yelling, pointing to our house as he said "Iraq ain't over there - this here's Iraq" and other ignorant attempts at the profound. He blabbered about knowing his rights, that what he was doing was perfectly legal, as long as he removed each load within 5 days.
"Is it legal to release freon from air conditioners?"
He stammered, then flew into a rage. He picked up metal objects and began to throw them near me. He puffed his chest and got in my face but my 5'4 frame did not flinch - did not move.
I growled,
"Pick that shit up out of my yard"
We stared.
He finally obliged, waving his hand at me dismissively, "You know what? I don't have to listen to you, I'll listen to your husband...Shoo!"
"That's because you rednecks are all motherfuckers and women haters"
When I entered the house he banged on the junk like there was no tomorrow. He drove away and brought in more loads. He piled the junk into a fifteen foot high structure near the back of his drive - so it was overtly visible from our backdoor.
Then he stuck a large tattered, teetering and seemingly shit stained, American flag in the top of it.
It looked like the Iwo Jima of junk.
This made me laugh bitterly and hysterically.
(At the time I didn't have a digital camera - I will always regret not getting film to photograph it.)
When Mr. Flophouse came home, I could hear Robbie's blow hard voice as usual. When he walked in the house he was shaking his head.
"Robbie tells me you called him a redneck...I think you hurt his feelings."
....
"Did he tell you I called him a motherfucker?"
....
"Nope.
-He did say I am lucky he "didn't go off on you" ..That he's been in prison twice for assault, and he's not going back. Then he did some namedropping; Said he was cell mates with Pete S."
Pete S. is a notorious criminal psychopath in this area. He has many specialties, including a penchant for biting peoples noses off...He's done time for it twice. Turns out that Mr. Flophouse and Pete S. grew up together, and due to boyhood feats of strength, circle jerks or some other country nonsense, Pete S., to this day - thinks very highly of Mr. Flophouse.
" I leaned in to Robbie's face and said, you go ask Pete S. Who the Fuck Mr. Flophouse is."
After recounting this manly fluke/victory to me Mr. Flophouse nearly pirouetted as he rattled off some bullshit about reality being the world as it exists outside of our perception and turned on McNeil Lehrer.
He did build a privacy fence for me.
The city was no help - I called, they inspected and Robbie was right about the 5 day loophole.
He does hustle the junk - I'll give him that.
I had a plan to blare Rap music out the window all day at him - but Mr. Flophouse ruined it by asking me if I wanted to listen to Robbie blare country music back.
Deeply considered foot track magic - but worry about psychic backfire.
One night I found myself sitting at the kitchen table hissing, actually Hissing at his direction, all ten fingers dramatically pointed that way too.
At that moment I realized the only thing I can do is pray.
The prayer goes like this:
"Dear Universe,
About my neighbors -
Let them succeed and move on
or Murder Suicide
or just suicide if it's Robbie
or let her come to her senses and trade him for a less ambitious boyfriend
like one of the guys in the meth lab across the street.
Or the guy who only comes out on trash day in his bathrobe and bare feet even if it's freezing temperatures.
Or let Mr. Flophouse and me succeed and move on."
When it comes to a race for success, my money's on the junker.
From what I've experienced,
America is well symbolized by a loud mouthed shit stained flag rooted in a pile of junk.
So God bless America and God Bless Robbie.
Perhaps you are thinking, "Fantastic! Recycling!"
Yes and No.
This guy doesn't care about the earth. I've seen him release freon from air conditioners, pour oil and chemicals on the ground, litter the sidewalk with broken glass and plastic, etc.
His life is about maybe paying the bills and definitely getting shitfaced.
His operation is exceedingly loud. As I raise my brush to the canvas - he drops refrigerators from his tailgate onto the driveway, screams the F word..His voice carries whether he is angry or pleased or telling his old lady what to do.
She bought the house next to us a handful of years ago. The lots here are only 40 feet wide, so we are right on top of each other. She moved in with her son and 2 dachshunds. They were nice.
A year or so later this piece of work moved in with her. Within 2 weeks - her son - who was just at the age to start screwing up - moved out. A week later - the dachshunds moved out as well. Then the junking started.
He kept piling it up. Banging, pushing more in. Maestro was a puppy then - and had to be escorted outside to potty. (toy poodle puppies house train quickly, but take several months to "do" stairs) - we had a chain link fence with no privacy.
Robbie is built like a bull and is a know it all. So while I waited in the back yard for Maes to go - Robbie would say things to me like
"You already got your air conditioner on?, What are your electricity bills? You should buy your cigarettes online," etc.
He says the N word, the F word - and generally has to let everyone know how bright he is. It doesn't take long to realize he has a low opinion of women.
At first I hoped the Junking was a one time thing. Just one load. But it kept coming and kept piling up. The second week I approached him and asked him what his intentions were, how long I should expect for him to continue, and if he had a plan to eventually take his operation to a higher level by moving it out of a residential area.
He flew off the handle, cursing and yelling, pointing to our house as he said "Iraq ain't over there - this here's Iraq" and other ignorant attempts at the profound. He blabbered about knowing his rights, that what he was doing was perfectly legal, as long as he removed each load within 5 days.
"Is it legal to release freon from air conditioners?"
He stammered, then flew into a rage. He picked up metal objects and began to throw them near me. He puffed his chest and got in my face but my 5'4 frame did not flinch - did not move.
I growled,
"Pick that shit up out of my yard"
We stared.
He finally obliged, waving his hand at me dismissively, "You know what? I don't have to listen to you, I'll listen to your husband...Shoo!"
"That's because you rednecks are all motherfuckers and women haters"
When I entered the house he banged on the junk like there was no tomorrow. He drove away and brought in more loads. He piled the junk into a fifteen foot high structure near the back of his drive - so it was overtly visible from our backdoor.
Then he stuck a large tattered, teetering and seemingly shit stained, American flag in the top of it.
It looked like the Iwo Jima of junk.
This made me laugh bitterly and hysterically.
(At the time I didn't have a digital camera - I will always regret not getting film to photograph it.)
When Mr. Flophouse came home, I could hear Robbie's blow hard voice as usual. When he walked in the house he was shaking his head.
"Robbie tells me you called him a redneck...I think you hurt his feelings."
....
"Did he tell you I called him a motherfucker?"
....
"Nope.
-He did say I am lucky he "didn't go off on you" ..That he's been in prison twice for assault, and he's not going back. Then he did some namedropping; Said he was cell mates with Pete S."
Pete S. is a notorious criminal psychopath in this area. He has many specialties, including a penchant for biting peoples noses off...He's done time for it twice. Turns out that Mr. Flophouse and Pete S. grew up together, and due to boyhood feats of strength, circle jerks or some other country nonsense, Pete S., to this day - thinks very highly of Mr. Flophouse.
" I leaned in to Robbie's face and said, you go ask Pete S. Who the Fuck Mr. Flophouse is."
After recounting this manly fluke/victory to me Mr. Flophouse nearly pirouetted as he rattled off some bullshit about reality being the world as it exists outside of our perception and turned on McNeil Lehrer.
He did build a privacy fence for me.
The city was no help - I called, they inspected and Robbie was right about the 5 day loophole.
He does hustle the junk - I'll give him that.
I had a plan to blare Rap music out the window all day at him - but Mr. Flophouse ruined it by asking me if I wanted to listen to Robbie blare country music back.
Deeply considered foot track magic - but worry about psychic backfire.
One night I found myself sitting at the kitchen table hissing, actually Hissing at his direction, all ten fingers dramatically pointed that way too.
At that moment I realized the only thing I can do is pray.
The prayer goes like this:
"Dear Universe,
About my neighbors -
Let them succeed and move on
or Murder Suicide
or just suicide if it's Robbie
or let her come to her senses and trade him for a less ambitious boyfriend
like one of the guys in the meth lab across the street.
Or the guy who only comes out on trash day in his bathrobe and bare feet even if it's freezing temperatures.
Or let Mr. Flophouse and me succeed and move on."
When it comes to a race for success, my money's on the junker.
From what I've experienced,
America is well symbolized by a loud mouthed shit stained flag rooted in a pile of junk.
So God bless America and God Bless Robbie.
Views: 11
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Comment by BlancheNoE on February 12, 2009 at 8:48pm
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I'd like to order a copy of your next book please. Oh Flop,..I know this scenario too well.
let's see,..I put a spell on Sarah palin to raise boil on her nose and instead, a very large geological boil (volcano) sprung to life on the face of Alaska,....I could aim for the Junker,
but you might wanna' take an extended vacation. Let me know.
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Comment by Pypermarru1 on February 12, 2009 at 11:18pm
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What a read. this Robbie dude sounds like a real dolt. He is an escalator....good thing Mr FLopHouse has spend time on both sides of the tracks.....
he can't be name drop'n on your ass, you married a man that knows people, that knows an uncle of a cousins brother that circle jerk once.....Take that Robbie ya Prick
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Comment by photo2010 on February 13, 2009 at 2:58am
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Grrr..this really pisses me off. I grew up in a 3 family house my family owned, and we had to deal with idiots like that for years. You are tough and you stood your ground, good for you FHP! I hope you can get out of that situation soon.
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Comment by JustAnotherUserName on February 13, 2009 at 11:39am
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Bad neighbors are the worst because you always feel on your guard and can't even totally relax in your own home. No words of wisdom here--just sympathy!!
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Comment by luvdabun on February 15, 2009 at 6:59am
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sometimes ya gotta get ugly. Its a shame but it happens. Some people just do not understand normal thinking lol lol good lord girl good for you. I have had two flats in the last year. I also have a *careless junker* that lives on my street. My last flat (recently ) it had a huge piece of metal up through it. I feel for ya girl, stand your ground, every inch of ya. Good luck ~warmest bunnie hugs~
bunnies rule
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Comment by Dunleavy on February 16, 2009 at 4:55am
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Sorry about your neighbor. I had a drug dealer across the street and it was extremely hard to get rid of him. All sorts of low lifes coming around at all hours. Wish there was something you could get him on with the city.
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Comment by Mango8260 on February 16, 2009 at 4:56am
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My husband knows alot of interesting "Iron Workers"....let me know.
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