There’s nuthin’ much better than a fall evening here on the hill. The noises of the day – motors of various types, crummy music from overdriven stereos in passing cars, people chattering – fade as folks head for home to prepare for night. Through the open windows, a gentle breeze blows, slightly billowing the sheer drapes.
Darkness falls. Crickets begin their regular performance. At the back of the house, he branches of the ancient oak tree creak a little, disturbed by the wind. So peaceful…. so rustic…. so downright soothing.
And then, a stirring. Not something that can be heard initially, but something that can be felt. When I sense it, the hair stands up on the back of my neck, and my heart turns to ice water and runs down into my guts. No. Please. Not again. Leave me alone. I’ve done nothing to deserve this. Why me?
With the setting of the sun, the hideous, foul thing I loathe and despise once again awakens to torment the innocent.
“JEEEZUS F^^KING CHRIST, I AM GONNA GO INSANE!!! GET YOUR ASSES UPSTAIRS AND TO YOUR ROOMS BEFORE I DO SOMETHING YOU WILL REGRET! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!”
I’ve written about my “problem” neighbors before, as the four of you who read this blog may recall. My intent here is not to rehash an old topic. In my last post about those people, I touched upon the family in general. The matriarch, however, rates a post devoted entirely to her.
The expletives delivered in all caps above isn’t an exaggeration, by the way. The evening usually starts with something along those lines – and her exclamations of frustration and rage get more powerful (and colorful) as her temper reaches the boiling point.
At some point their front door will fly open and she’ll emerge as if shot from a cannon, bringing her anger with her into the night. The boards of their front porch splinter at her tread. The concrete steps buckle and crack when her heels smite them. Her smoldering downward trajectory ends with her standing in the front yard, eyes blazing like coals, sparks flying from her gnashing teeth, body trembling as if she were being jolted by an electric current.
“BY GOD, WHEN I COME BACK INTO THE HOUSE YOU HAD ALL BETTER STAY THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY! I’M SO F^^CKING PISSED OFF NOW I’M READY TO EXPLODE! DO YOU HEAR ME?”
At her screech, stars go supernova. Bats fall out of the sky, dead. The moon hides behind the nearest convenient cloud. The spittle flying from her lips turns the grass brown. Earthworms pop out of the soil in a frenzied attempt to flee, and are instantly fossilized into brown twigs.
Okay, perhaps I’m stretching things a bit. But truly, I do doubt the woman’s stability at times (More correctly, just about every day). It appears that anything and everything is an irritation to the creature. I don’t care much for the remainder of that happy little clan, but they do have my deep sympathy. Life in that house must be difficult, to say the very least.
Eventually someone will come out of the house, negotiations will begin and an agreement will be reached. She’ll return to normal (picture a werewolf shape-shifting back to human form), go indoors and peace will reign for the remainder of the evening.
The storm windows on this big red box do a great job of soundproofing. Right now the outside glass is raised to take advantage of the mild weather, but it’ll be lowered once the cold starts to set in.
As far as I’m concerned, winter can’t get here fast enough.
