It's True! I swear by Satan's Butt!
When I was an impetuous young lad, I went into the woods to do the Native American Indian thing.  I have, and I am not kidding, had possibly the scariest neighbors in the world!  That is, next to the nice couple down the hall.

There was the guy named Wayne.  He was going to squat on this land until they had to give it to him, some homesteading law.  Wayne used to get drunk with a case of Old Millwaukee™ and start waving a knife around.  To get his beer money he did odd jobs, and finally one old woman he was working for stabbed him with that knife.

Charles did two tours in Vietnam.  One in the Army, two in the Navy.  He would get so drunk you would walk down the trail and suddenly he would be there, laying on his stomach on his elbows, eyes closed, whipping his head from side to side.

After I was re-civilized, I ended up in a house with this access road next to my bedroom.  Of course this is where I compute, so one day I hear, "BLAM!  BLAM!"  Then there is this scraping sound with a burdened engine.  "Damn!  Those boys got themselves a squirrel!" I am thinking to myself.  "What the hell is that!" I say when they have to tear out from the place carrying their ill gotten booty.

Later I'm talking to George, who heals his wounds by painting lacquer and varnish on them, and he shows me his new acquisition.  "And he done hit me here with a potato rake!  Then Bradley went and got his sawed-off and those boys took off!"  Some bunch had come to kill the drug dealer, who fights cocks, that lived down that damn road...
( CapnChkn I would rather be flying elephants., Tue 30 Aug 2005, 13:22, Reply)