My Neighbors Hate Me And I Don’t Know Why

Motley Crue—Saints of Los Angeles


As I sit here trying to figure out something, anything to write about, a
party is going on next door, a party which we were, yet again, not
invited to.

I don't know, I saw the party truck pull up yesterday and the next thing
I knew, a large tent had been put up in our neighbor's backyard.

I thought they were having a 4th of July and was quite amused when
nobody showed up. My amusement slowly died and crumbled away when people
started showing up today and then I started feeling neglected and not

Me? Not loved? I know! It's unfathomable.

But that's okay since I can get some payback when I'm elected Prez. I'll
find some obscure law or something and make their backyard a nuclear
testing site. That'll teach 'em but good, especially when the neighbor's
wife squeezes out a couple two-headed babies. Then they'll be sorry.

But I think it's a good thing that we weren't invited. Last year when
the neighborhood had their annual pig roast (to which we also weren't
invited, supposedly we didn't get the invite in our mailbox, but someone
did come over and say we could join in and they were so very sorry that
we didn't get the invitation, blah, blah, blah, whatever) I got tired of
hearing that fucking "Spider Pig" song from the "Simpson's Movie" played
every 15 fucking minutes.
One day I'll throw a party, make some friends and invite them over.
We'll rock out and never have one song repeated cause I'm that kind of
guy and then I'll get one of those projectors with the big screens and
set up a theater in the backyard and show the most violent and depraved
movies ever known to man. That'll be a party and my neighbors will NOT
be invited. That'll show 'em.

Hell, I wave to the neighbors when I drive by and I think that's good
enough to be accepted into their society, isn't it? Maybe I have that
serial stigma attached to me because I keep to myself and really show
myself when I'm cutting the grass. I do wear the same shirt and shorts
whenever I cut the grass and maybe that disgusts them, but I do wash
them every week, so what's the big deal? It's a comfy shirt and I just
happened to anoint it the mowing shirt.

Now I'm in a rut and if I do happen to wear a different shirt, it'll
mess with the space/time continuum and cause a giant rift in space which
I definitely do not want to do. Besides, even though I've been wearing
the same shirt for the last 4 years while doing my weekly chore, it's
still in excellent shape with only one tiny hole caused by a cigarette
(the legal kind) burn.

So, to keep all of us safe from space alien attack, I'll continue to
wear that shirt as my neighbors wonder about who I could have possibly
killed and buried in the basement recently.

But that's ok since I'll be in Amish country in the next few weeks and
they'll welcome me because that's what they do.

COMING NEXT: I'm going to finish it

Stephen Johnson

The idea of building a website with Bob came from Stephen in the days of message boards and chat rooms. We settled on the name and the rest is history. Retired since he hit the ripe age of 25, he spends most his time doing odd-jobs around the house and digging thru trash bins for "stuff that's still good." Stephen has contributed several short stories and hosted the "Lunatic Ravings" column since the beginning (1999). The idea of writing weekly columns came from Stephen before blogs or blog sites ever existed. So, I guess that makes him THE FIRST BLOGGER IN THE WORLD!!!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


Enjoyed this? Please spread the word :)