Of Mice And Really Crazy Men
For the WTF? files...
I was taking some bags from the trunk of my car this afternoon, and one of my neighbors wandered out onto his deck and waved at me. So I waved back, because, well... duh. It's called "being neighborly," which is I skill my mother insists I cultivate. She bakes cookies for the neighbors, and enjoys loaning them various household items. I don't know why. I belong to the "live and let live" school of thought, which, due to my Yankee Puritan upbringing, translates into "I don't care what you do, so long as you leave me the hell out of it." It's always worked well for me. I have a nodding acquaintance with most of the neighbors, and, as far as I'm concerned, that's more than enough. But I've received a parental mandate to "make an effort," so I've been effort-ing my ass off. It's not working out. All that my neighborliness has achieved is first-name basis with mean elderly people, and a growing concern that radiation is leaking from the nuke plant and turning everyone insane. It's like every neighbor I've encountered has been playing with mercury. Mad as fucking Hatters, the lot of them. Which brings me back to my story...
The neighbor waves, I wave back, and then this exchange follows:
Neighbor: Hey!
Me: Yeah?
Neighbor: My phone's ringing!
Me: Okay.
Neighbor: Hey!
Me: What?
Neighbor: My phone is ringing!
Me: So... answer it!
Neighbor: What?
Me: I said, "answer it!"
Neighbor: Okay!
And then he went inside. Presumably to answer his phone. I don't know what in hell it was all about, and I'm not sure I want to. And it's not like he was looking at me but talking to someone else, because he was hollering across the yard to me. I don't know the guy very well, which makes it that much more confusing. Our conversations mostly consist of him saying, "Cold enough for ya?" and me responding with a suitable just-humor-the-man remark.
Two hours later, I ran outside to grab something UPS dropped off. The crazy neighbor man was getting into his absurdly gargantuan SUV (horse-and-buggy New England streets, you moron), and he waved to me. So I'm thinking, "Oh, Christ, what now?" I waved back, but only because it was too late to hide. And then there was this:
Neighbor: Man! Cold enough for ya?
Me: ::nervous laugh:: Well, it's not as bad as last year, anyway.
Neighbor: Too true. That was one for the books, wasn't it?
Me: Sure was.
Neighbor: Have a good day!
Me: You too!
Neighbor: Hey, and watch out for those mice!
Me: Okay! Uh... what? What mice?
Neighbor: Mice. They sneak inside when it gets this cold.
Me: Right. Yeah. The... mice.
Neighbor: Damn things get in the walls. Ya hear 'em at night.
Me: Yeah. Sure.
Neighbor: They chew up the walls. Chew 'em right up.
Me: Not a good thing.
Neighbor: Not at all. And the sound'll drive ya nuts.
Me: Uh-huh.
Neighbor: You should get some traps. The glue ones work best.
Me: Glue mouse traps. Got it.
Neighbor: You can hear 'em squeaking when they get stuck.
Me: How... how do you... kill them?
Neighbor: Eh, just wait until morning. They have heart attacks or something.
Me: Mouse... heart attacks. Okay.
Neighbor: Squeaking's not great, but the chewing's worse.
Me: Right.
Neighbor: Okay, then. See ya!
I've been told by quite a few people that I don't show much emotion, but I'm pretty sure I was displaying a growing look of horror as the conversation progressed. He was just so serious about the whole thing. He actually looked fucking contemplative when he was comparing death squeaks to wall nibbling. And then he was all tra-la-la so-long see-ya. The fuh?
I don't want to know these people. I fear these people. I want to call the America's Most Wanted tip line and ask if any of my neighbors fit the description of rogue serial killers or escaped mental patients. They are all insane. Crazy, loony, mad, nuts, out of their ever-loving minds. And if everyone around me is psycho, what does that say about me? It can't be good. When you come onto the Island, there should be a little sign with a cartoon character in a straight-jacket that says You Must Be This Crazy To Live Here.
Seriously. What The Fuck?
I was taking some bags from the trunk of my car this afternoon, and one of my neighbors wandered out onto his deck and waved at me. So I waved back, because, well... duh. It's called "being neighborly," which is I skill my mother insists I cultivate. She bakes cookies for the neighbors, and enjoys loaning them various household items. I don't know why. I belong to the "live and let live" school of thought, which, due to my Yankee Puritan upbringing, translates into "I don't care what you do, so long as you leave me the hell out of it." It's always worked well for me. I have a nodding acquaintance with most of the neighbors, and, as far as I'm concerned, that's more than enough. But I've received a parental mandate to "make an effort," so I've been effort-ing my ass off. It's not working out. All that my neighborliness has achieved is first-name basis with mean elderly people, and a growing concern that radiation is leaking from the nuke plant and turning everyone insane. It's like every neighbor I've encountered has been playing with mercury. Mad as fucking Hatters, the lot of them. Which brings me back to my story...
The neighbor waves, I wave back, and then this exchange follows:
Neighbor: Hey!
Me: Yeah?
Neighbor: My phone's ringing!
Me: Okay.
Neighbor: Hey!
Me: What?
Neighbor: My phone is ringing!
Me: So... answer it!
Neighbor: What?
Me: I said, "answer it!"
Neighbor: Okay!
And then he went inside. Presumably to answer his phone. I don't know what in hell it was all about, and I'm not sure I want to. And it's not like he was looking at me but talking to someone else, because he was hollering across the yard to me. I don't know the guy very well, which makes it that much more confusing. Our conversations mostly consist of him saying, "Cold enough for ya?" and me responding with a suitable just-humor-the-man remark.
Two hours later, I ran outside to grab something UPS dropped off. The crazy neighbor man was getting into his absurdly gargantuan SUV (horse-and-buggy New England streets, you moron), and he waved to me. So I'm thinking, "Oh, Christ, what now?" I waved back, but only because it was too late to hide. And then there was this:
Neighbor: Man! Cold enough for ya?
Me: ::nervous laugh:: Well, it's not as bad as last year, anyway.
Neighbor: Too true. That was one for the books, wasn't it?
Me: Sure was.
Neighbor: Have a good day!
Me: You too!
Neighbor: Hey, and watch out for those mice!
Me: Okay! Uh... what? What mice?
Neighbor: Mice. They sneak inside when it gets this cold.
Me: Right. Yeah. The... mice.
Neighbor: Damn things get in the walls. Ya hear 'em at night.
Me: Yeah. Sure.
Neighbor: They chew up the walls. Chew 'em right up.
Me: Not a good thing.
Neighbor: Not at all. And the sound'll drive ya nuts.
Me: Uh-huh.
Neighbor: You should get some traps. The glue ones work best.
Me: Glue mouse traps. Got it.
Neighbor: You can hear 'em squeaking when they get stuck.
Me: How... how do you... kill them?
Neighbor: Eh, just wait until morning. They have heart attacks or something.
Me: Mouse... heart attacks. Okay.
Neighbor: Squeaking's not great, but the chewing's worse.
Me: Right.
Neighbor: Okay, then. See ya!
I've been told by quite a few people that I don't show much emotion, but I'm pretty sure I was displaying a growing look of horror as the conversation progressed. He was just so serious about the whole thing. He actually looked fucking contemplative when he was comparing death squeaks to wall nibbling. And then he was all tra-la-la so-long see-ya. The fuh?
I don't want to know these people. I fear these people. I want to call the America's Most Wanted tip line and ask if any of my neighbors fit the description of rogue serial killers or escaped mental patients. They are all insane. Crazy, loony, mad, nuts, out of their ever-loving minds. And if everyone around me is psycho, what does that say about me? It can't be good. When you come onto the Island, there should be a little sign with a cartoon character in a straight-jacket that says You Must Be This Crazy To Live Here.
Seriously. What The Fuck?