There was just another fire on my street tonight. From what the whacked-out neighbors say, it’s the third in the past few months. I think each one was within a football field from my bedroom. From what I can gather, bare with me… it’s 4 am, a garage was caught on fire. I don’t mean to sound ignorant but how does a garage catch on fire at this point in the night? I will discount what the children who roam the sidewalk say tomorrow.
Those neighbors I spoke of spun me some pretty incredible conspiracy stories. A lot of nods to crack, name calling and the like. Look at me, I write the word CRACK and the phrase ‘the like’ in the same fucking sentence. Cleveland summers do this to a dude.
One guy said it was time to get the fuck out. I agree. I used to think I lived in some kind of bohemian utopia. Exposed brick streets, flowers growing on my fence, sex offenders living near by... I was ready to retire. No longer. Fire, crack and racial slurs… yeah, I think I am out.
I have never smoked crack. I, unfortunately, know people who have. One such asshole lived above me. This neighborhood seems to be soaked in it. Fuck, can you be soaked in rocks? It seems so.
Anyway. This all seems kind of great to me. What better a way to kill a Friday night, post-work? More stories to tell and more land bombs I have survived.
And another thing I LOVE about this… Weird neighborhood bickering. I’ve never been a home owner but I suspect this is kind of like a ghetto Desperate Housewives. Instead of complaining about a picket fence too close to my garden, I am stuck between white trash and crack addicts. All they can argue about is which one is worse and all I can think about is how awesome life is when caught in the middle with no loyalty… only concern for my wrestling DVD collection.
Oh, and the last story I heard tonight was about a young girl throwing a Mountain Dew bottle with a LIVE snake inside it into a pool… well, that’s just pure Cleveland legend.
Take my city... PLEASE! hahahaha