The Knoll family has made my shit list
Friday night - 07/15/2005 – 2345 hrs
The humidity can do some funny things to noises late at night. Some types of noises are affected far more than others. When you’ve been working too many long days and have drifted into the kind of sleep that isn’t broken without quite some effort, quick clumsy banging noises can sound quite a bit like someone trying to break into your house. When you live in a nice residential neighborhood which has suffered a few recent break-ins these sorts of noises can put you on edge; maybe even push you over the edge…
By the time I realized I was now awake in my own bed with the lovely lady who regularly sleeps next to me and noticing that she was not springing into action it became clear that tonight’s action springing would be my responsibility. Making my way to the window I was only able to catch the door slamming on the would be burglar’s car as he/she drove off into the night. Since my handgun, like the firearms of most new parents, is stored under the baby’s crib there was no way I was going to be able to stop this scoundrel from taking off into the night with whatever valuables were just stolen from me. I tell you, some days it seems as though I’ll never get to shoot a criminal as he flees my wrath.
After forcing my self back to sleep, I dreamt the dreams of a worn man; waking up five hours later to relish in another day of employment. I washed myself, I dressed myself and I walked myself to my car. Backing out of the driveway something new caught my eye. New things don’t often appear in my yard unless the neighbor kids are drinking in the woods across the street and throw a beer can or two my way (the day that comes to a stop is guaranteed to be material worth writing about). This new thing was a large cardboard sign hung, no, nailed to the telephone pole in front of my house. A large cardboard sign, nailed into the pole with two roofing nails, announcing a yard sale at 8 Stark Rd on Saturday and Sunday from 9-3. Oh how nice, a yard sale! Who doesn’t love a yard sale? Who the fuck hammers a cardboard sign into a pole at midnight? Who would be surprised if a moderately tattooed crazy person dressed only in adidas track pants bum rushed your foolish self at midnight in a nice residential neighborhood and bludgeoned you with your own hammer to the horror of the neighbor kids drinking in the woods who will soon meet a similar fate only not with a hammer borrowed from the person you just bludgeoned but instead with their own soon to be severed limbs?
The answers to the last two questions would be the Knoll family who reside at 8 Stark Rd. Listen Knoll’s, I don’t have a problem with you, I don’t have a problem with your junk sale and I certainly don’t have a problem with your sign. But the execution of your signage in conjunction with you and your sale sucks, bad. There is absolutely no reason to be hammering things in front of my house at midnight, ever.
While we’re on the topic, we might as well discuss the other form of signage which proliferates in my neighborhood this time of year, the lost kitty/obnoxiously small dog sign. Folks, fluffy is not lost. Fluffy was eaten by a coyote back in June because in the 90’s you voted for a ban on leg hold traps in Massachusetts, which has led to an explosion in the wild canine population in the outskirts of Worcester. That grainy b/w picture of fluffy generated on the printer you received free from Dell when you bought your $300 computer is touching. But it’s not bringing Fluffy back. Fluffy was deposited in large coyote bowel movement weeks ago. Move on.
Back to the Knoll family, if any of you reading this are in an oompa band and don’t mind playing late, in nice residential neighborhoods, I may have some work for you.
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That’s hilarious, Buck!
And the most humorous part about it is that you wrote a letter to your neighbors on your weblog. I wonder if they’ll find it?
commerce knows no sleep!