Every neighborhood has its less-than-desirable household on the street that is able to single-handedly drop property values simply by existing. In some cases this house comes in the form of the only young people living on a street of retirees, while in other cases the house is one that looks as if the residents are using the front lawn as an alternate dinning room. On my street it is the latter. Not only does the white trashiness of this house spill onto the sidewalk and neighboring residences, there is a house of identical trashballdom sitting right next door. Combined, the two homes consist of approximately 2 husbands, 2 wives, 12 children, two sets of aunts and uncles, 8 dogs and cats, and an occasional llama(seriously). In addition, the fence between the two homes has been knocked down in an effort to expand the storage and "Nascar Party" capabilities.
The first house is owned by a man who looks excruciatingly like a red-headed Jeff Foxworthy and house #2 guy looks like the love child of Billy Crystal and Marissa Tomei. Jeff Foxworthy look-a-like owns a towing company in town and conveniently has enough of a broke down car collection that his company is only working 4 days a week in order to allow him more time to move his shit around his yard with the tow truck. Billy Tomei over there does maintenance on school buses for the city and has no apprehensions about parking an entire broke down school bus on the street (towed there by Jeff) while drinking beer, listening to the Oakridge Boys, scratching his balls, and wondering how he can scam the city out of a 30 passenger people mover.
Now that I have painted a fairly decent picture of Kid Rock and the gang I can get to the story. The story that blew my "Believe it or not" Breaker. With all of the shit these people have accrued over this last year, we always drive by their homes to see what kind of new, mutilated vehicle either of them have acquired while we were all at work. Most recently both men decided to buy dune buggies/sand rails and put Indy Car tires on them and race them through the neighborhood, prompting the locals to call the sheriff and put a stop to the 1st annual Lander 500. Before that it was some type of para glider which they attempted to take off using the street as a runway. This venture was cut short when a jeep wrangler took an unfortunate left turn down our street and was halted "with extreme prejudice" by two drunks in a semi-aerial expedition. And though these occurrences may seem too extreme to be true, yesterday the "Kings of The Refused" were able to top even the most extravagant of stories.
David and I had gone to the store yesterday as the light bulb in my bedroom decided to give a brief fireworks display moments before exploding all over my bed spread and it was time to replace it. As we pull into the garage, David walks into the house and I stop, listening to what sounds like a just-about-to-explode vehicle. The sound started from the left side of the house and began growing louder and louder as I stood patiently looking out into the street from the safety of my garage. The swelling tension from the intense sound of the vehicle forced me to walk out toward the driveway in an effort to see what terror was about to reign down on my quiet little street. At that very moment, doing roughly 60 miles an hour, two men (lacking shirts), beers in hand, go flying by on what can only be described as a Military Issued...
...wait for it...
...Hovercraft.
I swear to God if these men could legally blow themselves up with Napalm they would split the cost and sell their bodies to science.
The hovercraft blows by my house as the two men scream wildly and hang on for dear life. Jeff Foxyworthy's long red hair whipped in the wind while the speed forced back his screams of fear and joy while Marissa Crystal's beer was being forced vertically through the top of the can from the sheer force of the wind. 2 wives, 12 children, two sets of aunts and uncles, 8 dogs and cats, and a llama stood on the sidewalk cheering as if Lance Armstrong were racing to dinner at their front yard buffet while I stood motionless in my driveway watching these two grown men break enough laws to make Colin Farrell turn down the role in the feature film. And all of a sudden, after the months of embarrassment and ridicule I had placed on these men, and the countless times I had avoided eye contact while driving down the street in an effort to avoid them ever coming over, I actually felt a new sensation. Envy.
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