Soapbox Diner
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Kenny the Weird Neighbor |
10.09.07 |
Have I told you, darling, about Kenny, the Weird Neighbor? I don't remember if I have or not.
See, Kenny the Weird Neighbor comes over sometimes now, because I tore the fence down in the back yard last April after a windstorm blew the double gates off the fence. He just comes over for no good reason. He tells me about how my kid cusses with the other neighbor kids and rides his bicycle in the grass. Tsk Tsk, you're not a very good mom, are you? Oh, by the way, it's my birthday party this Saturday (and the next, and the next one after that - for three months), can I put this case of ribs in your deep freeze?
Um, no.
OK, well, can I use your bathroom?
Excuse me? Isn't that your apartment right across the street?
Yeah, but I have to go. I'll just use yours.
Uh ... gross.
Hey, I need to check my messages, so I'm gonna call my house on your phone.
Uh ... and I reiterate, isn't that your house right there?
I'll be quick, chill out.
...
OK, all done. Now I have your number on my caller ID - boy you're gullable.
Fuck. Guess I know who I'll be calling tomorrow to change my number.
Say hello to Kenny the Weird Neighbor.
So anyways, couple months back SBD was feeling a little sorry for herself and all sad and all-alone. So I got all drunk-like and invited Kenny over to play darts and make out. Only Kenny got all self-conscious when I reached into his shirt to tweak his nip.
Oh, I know I've mentioned this before. How could I NOT bring up drunken displays of bad behaviour? That's right - I never miss those opportunities.
By the way, did I mention that Kenny has a drippy Jerry curl?
Oh, the humanity.
Anyways, so ever since, I have been fighting Kenny off like wild horses, but it doesn't work. Imagine my horror - he comes over all the time - 10:30 in the morning fresh from walking to the grocery for a Bud Light? That's Kenny. Hey SBD, you have a bad kid, can I get one of your cigarettes? Can I come in and keep you company?
No, Kenny. No.
Oh, well, you got a full pack of smokes there. Quit being a hater. Oh, yeah, and where's my mix CD?
Kenny. God bless him.
So he happened to see me in the front patio Sunday night. See, that was my mistake. I was sitting in the dark. I didn't see him across the street. It was 9:00 on a Sunday night, I was gonna finish the last load of laundry and go to bed.
Ding Dong!
Shit, said I. Who is it?
Kenny, open the door.
Crap.
Hello, Kenny. What's up? Did you need something?
No, I just saw your lights on. Can I come in? I see you're in your pajamas - you goin' to bed?
Yes, Kenny. Getting ready to go to bed.
You want me to come in and give you some company for a while?
.
.
.
Ick. And that's all I have to say about that.
But I'll be sure to keep you posted, darling. I'm sure Kenny the Weird Neighbor will be around again with more weirdness.
Sad, though, because that's the best offer I've had for nooky in the last eight months. And you know, a girl is only human around here. God, I'm really hanging on here. Heaven save me from a weak moment, cuz I'd never get rid of him if I caved. That, and Jerry curl drip doesn't come out of pillowcases.
Don't ask how I know that.
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