The Devil’s Rejects
by Kelvin Wade
I shouldn’t write this. Years ago I wrote a column about the problems I was having with my next door neighbor. He was a balding older gentleman with a beer belly and gray man-sweater who fancied over-watering his lawn while standing outside clad only in a towel around his waist. His watering soaked my yard and led to so much runoff that the water department came to my house thinking I was using too much water!
Well, the same day that column ran, the neighbor in question died. Remarkable coincidence. I had nothing to do with it.
So his widow moved out and rented out the house. Her current tenants have been there about 15 months. I think they’re only there because Satan evicted them from their last address. There are two sisters that appear to be in their 20s that I call the Ugh Sisters. People think I’m referring to their clock-stopping looks but listening to them talk makes you want to groan, “Ugh.”
They argue constantly. Loudly. Profanely. Publicly. While they’re white, they speak ebonics at a breakneck pace with voices that sound like their mouths are full of oatmeal. To listen to their arguments one would think there are two people over there named the F word and the N word.
They invite their dirtbag friends over to sit in the driveway or garage and do drugs. Now I live in California so I’ve got no problem with people smoking marijuana. But there’s a lot more than weed being ingested over there because weed doesn’t keep you up all night long.
That’s right. They’re outside all night some nights. It’s not uncommon to hear laughing, yelling and fighting at 2 or 3 a.m.
There’s an older woman who rarely comes out of the house but is just as profane, loud and nasty as the others.
That woman has a 17 or 18-year-old daughter, whose mother told us is off her meds, who has had frequent fights with her ever-changing boyfriends. She once sat crying and banging her head on the front door threatening to kill herself for so long I considered tossing my .357 out there for her to use. Now that’s doubly terrible from me because I helped found a Survivors of Suicide group!
We’ve watched people in cars pull up and buy drugs. The people who live there zip down to the street to service the buyers like waitresses on roller-skates with trays of burgers and malts.
Then there are the children. There are four or five or a million kids. They’re as foulmouthed as their parents. They play on the roof of the house. The oldest, a 10 year old, smokes with her mother’s blessing. They walk along the back fence while holding onto the low-hanging power lines. The world is their garbage can. They trample people’s flowers. They steal from front yards. They throw lemons at people’s houses. They’ve egged cars, including mine.
There’s a baby that hardly ever comes outside wearing anything but a diaper no matter what the weather. A saggy diaper. And the baby will be outside at all hours. We once saw it on the driveway at midnight or stumbling out of the garage by itself during the day.
The neighborhood has CPS on speed dial and they do come out. But it has me wondering just what has to happen for a child to be removed from a house?
Last Christmas, our Neighborhood Watch group decided to surprise the Neighbors from Hell with dinner, knowing they don’t always have food over there (you know, with the price of drugs and all). My girlfriend and I bought presents for the kids. We delivered the food and presents and they were surprised and amazed. It made us all feel good.
Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago when I hear the “adults” over there talking about going to some charity to pick up food. They were complaining about the quality and amount of food that they get. It was all I could do to keep from pulling my hair out.
Sure we call the police. But what the neighbors don’t understand is that I call the police for THEIR safety because I’m ready to twist off and they need protection.
The tenants before this crowd was a couple of crackheads. But they didn’t disturb the neighborhood. They just stayed in the house smoking crack. I never thought I’d be in a position where I would rather have crackheads for neighbors.
The Neighborhood Watch is trying to get the owner to do something. Court may be our next option.
If you have good neighbors, take them a pie or flowers this week to let them know you appreciate them. Because we’re looking to evict the Neighbors from Hell and they could end up in YOUR neighborhood.