Howdy, Neighbor!
It's me. You know--the one you kept awake last night blasting Dirty souls at 2004 decibels at 3:00 in the morning?
Yeah, me. The one who cleans up the dozens of condoms wrappers that blow over from your yard like low-class tumbleweed. And then there's your heaps of steaming byproduct that appear on my lawn every morning, like some fresh, organic model of the TD tower. The stench would make me wretch, were my olfactory nerves not already deadened from the emissions that emanate from your toilet vent. (What do you eat, anyway? Raw, minced cheese?)
Okay, so I don't own any Uzis, flame-throwers, or Abrams M1 tanks with which to retaliate. I do, however, have the secret DSG weapon. And, you should see the wonders it works with cans of pink spray paint! Imagine polka dots. Big, huge polka dots. And stripes. And rainbows. All over your toilet. Get the picture?
Or, I could just have my pal Louie the Wrench crap in your gas tank. Ever try to drive your nice station wagon on that kind of fuel? It don't run so good like that.
Then again, I bet without too much effort I could get some marijuana to flourish in your detritus-cluttered excuse for a lawn. That way, you'll be scratching your nose until the nest tornando hit.
So, the way I see it, these are your options, bub:
1. Clean up that hovel of an excuse for a home you've got, keep the noise down and start acting like decent folk; or,
B. Wake up some morning in the not-too-distant future, to find that your house looks like it was decorated by Rupual on acid, your yard looks like it was landscaped by Sadam Husain and your car is suddenly favored by male cats.
With utmost neighborly wishes from your friend next-door,
I remain,
Your neighbor,
Nasty
P.S. Gee, the fedex man sure likes to help out around your house when your wife is home. Isn't he thoughtful! |
