Our Friendly, Furry Neighbors
Our backyard is strangely-shaped to the degree that we share fence with five neighbors."Sharing fence" is not some exotic term for swapping spit. Hands off the keyboard.
Yesterday, Eli was playing in his inflatable pool, and as soon as he went into the backyard, two dogs started barking. These were "new" dogs--we'd never heard them before. They sounded like big dogs, and--oh, yeah--one was growling and hurling himself repeatedly against the flimsy fence.
This dog sounded so positively crazed that I did something I've never done before: I walked around to the next street and left a note on the neighbor's door.
She called about an hour later.
"So what did she say?" Gloria asked when I came back into the living room.
"The usual," I said. "She moved from Dallas because she ran out of places to bury the bodies. Her dogs acquired a taste for human flesh, and it just got out of hand. She's hoping for a fresh start here."
"She didn't say that," Gloria said.
"She invited us over to meet them," I said. "I told her I thought that was a great idea, so that when my child's severed head was in her dog's mouth, I could call him by name."
"Did she say what she does for a living?"
"She experiments on human corpses,"I said. "It's a real turnkey operation over there."
I was trying to open up a package of chips that was proving entirely resistant to my efforts, I so I got up and used the scissors.
"We have food scissors," she said. "They're in the silverware drawer. The general scissors are in the drawer at the edge of the counter."
"You could tell me that one million times," I said, "and I will never hear it."
"I know," she said.
<< Home