Love thy new neighbor too

Tasha and the girls live in a pretty rural area and have a really nice house on a decent spread of land. Her house, the house across the street, the houses behind her and to her left are also quite nice and all have good acreage. Then there's Butch and the boys.

Butch and his sons (and usually 4 or 5 friends) live to her right. What a shit hole of a place. Imagine the ultimate Arkansas mobile home joke and that is exactly what lives next door. The house is a single-wide with some half-assed addition in the front. Trash is more predominant than grass (which never gets mowed) and there are always broke down cars and car parts scattered around the house.

The pride and joy of the whole place is a picnic table that sits under a tin-roofed, free-standing cover equipped with a burn barrel and can barrel. Oh boy, that helps the property value. During warm weather Butch wakes up, heads for the picnic table and stays there all day long drinking beer and visiting with friends. His boys seem to sleep all day, as they usually show themselves late in the afternoon and spend most of the night sitting outside or trying to work on a car.

It's an eye-sore and they are totally unproductive, but they are ignorant and tend to piss me off. First, the boys like loud music very late at night. I don't, especially when I am trying to sleep, so we have had a spat about it. At 11:00 p.m. you should not be shaking the windows in the neighbor's homes with the bass in your 88 Caprice. I took it upon myself to walk over there and inform them of that. I think they got the point.

They also have dogs. Not the same dogs, they just always seem to have a pack of dogs. It's weird... they will have 3 or 4 and after a few months, no dogs for a week or so, then a new pack of dogs. Tasha thinks they are eating them. I think the dogs can only go so long without being fed and living in those conditions and they think, "fuck it, I'm outta here". But who knows?

The dogs have a tendency to prefer Tasha's yard to shit in and her trash to eat out of. We have pelted their dogs with rocks, chased them off verbally, even shot several in the ass with a BB gun, but they don't get the message. One in particular was annoying, I caught him on the front porch with no way out except past me. I kicked that dog in the nuts so hard he ran half way down the drive on only his front feet.

Now I hear Butch is slinging weed. They don't know me or what I do for a living... yet. I plan to sick my boys on them and, if we're lucky, can lock their dumb asses up, or at least get them evicted. May the Dope God be with us.