The Down Range Forum
Member Section => Down Range Cafe => Topic started by: lhprop1 on May 10, 2012, 11:38:27 AM
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My wife, kid, and I just moved into our new house on Saturday. You'd think that a quiet cul de sac in the middle of an upper-middle class neighborhood in textbook suburbia would be a nice place.
I went to the grocery store last night. When I got home, I parked my truck outside the garage and carried the groceries through the garage and into the house. I just left the truck doors open because I'd be coming right back out and my arms were full. When I came out of the house for the 2nd load of groceries, I saw a guy standing right next to my open truck door just staring at me. He looked eerily similar to Billy Bob Thornton's character in Slingblade except that he had the build of a meth addict. One hand was at his side and the other was behind his back so I was instantly on high alert.
"Can I help you?" I asked him through the garage. He just stared at me blankly. I repeated my question and he just started slowly walking toward me with his hand still behind his back. I immediately swept my shirt and put my hand on my pistol, ready to draw if he came any closer. It's a big 3 car garage, about 30' from front to back and he was coming diagonally and would have had to come around my wife's car to get to me, so my line of engagement was the threshold of the garage door. When he saw me sweep my shirt, he stopped and slowly introduced himself as my neighbor. I didn't take my hand off my pistol until I saw both of his hands and even then, I approached him very cautiously.
He seemed harmless enough, albeit pretty strange and a little creepy. At one point in his never ending, repetitive, one-sided conversation/monologue, he tried to give me a high five. I just stared at his hand and refused. High five fail. He just kept talking about treating my birch trees and just kept asking "Are there any questions you have about the neighborhood? Anything at all?" And then would pause and stare like a teacher searching for an answer from a bunch of braindead students. Luckily, he's moving out on June 8, but not because it's a bad neighborhood (he made this abundantly clear by repeating it at least a dozen times throughout the one-sided conversation). It makes me wonder.
We've been in the new house for 5 days and I've been approached by the local teenage con-artist and almost drawn my pistol on my neighbor. What the hell have we gotten into?
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My wife, kid, and I just moved into our new house on Saturday. You'd think that a quiet cul de sac in the middle of an upper-middle class neighborhood in textbook suburbia would be a nice place.
I went to the grocery store last night. When I got home, I parked my truck outside the garage and carried the groceries through the garage and into the house. I just left the truck doors open because I'd be coming right back out and my arms were full. When I came out of the house for the 2nd load of groceries, I saw a guy standing right next to my open truck door just staring at me. He looked eerily similar to Billy Bob Thornton's character in Slingblade except that he had the build of a meth addict. One hand was at his side and the other was behind his back so I was instantly on high alert.
"Can I help you?" I asked him through the garage. He just stared at me blankly. I repeated my question and he just started slowly walking toward me with his hand still behind his back. I immediately swept my shirt and put my hand on my pistol, ready to draw if he came any closer. It's a big 3 car garage, about 30' from front to back and he was coming diagonally and would have had to come around my wife's car to get to me, so my line of engagement was the threshold of the garage door. When he saw me sweep my shirt, he stopped and slowly introduced himself as my neighbor. I didn't take my hand off my pistol until I saw both of his hands and even then, I approached him very cautiously.
He seemed harmless enough, albeit pretty strange and a little creepy. At one point in his never ending, repetitive, one-sided conversation/monologue, he tried to give me a high five. I just stared at his hand and refused. High five fail. He just kept talking about treating my birch trees and just kept asking "Are there any questions you have about the neighborhood? Anything at all?" And then would pause and stare like a teacher searching for an answer from a bunch of braindead students. Luckily, he's moving out on June 8, but not because it's a bad neighborhood (he made this abundantly clear by repeating it at least a dozen times throughout the one-sided conversation). It makes me wonder.
We've been in the new house for 5 days and I've been approached by the local teenage con-artist and almost drawn my pistol on my neighbor. What the hell have we gotten into?
A target rich environment ?
Your description of your new neighborhood makes it sound like burglar heaven.
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Did you move to Brooklyn Park?
Your description sounds like the wonderfully safe north side. Anyone looking to open a lead mine - this would be the place, and most of it is being carried in soft tissue.
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Did you move to Brooklyn Park?
Your description sounds like the wonderfully safe north side. Anyone looking to open a lead mine - this would be the place, and most of it is being carried in soft tissue.
Oh hell no. We're in one of the southern suburbs where everything is nice and quiet. The rest of the neighbors are really cool and from the sounds of it, they all think "Slingblade" is a bit on the creepy/goofy side.
As far as the con artist, here's the story behind that.
Two days ago, I was feeding junior while I was waiting for the wifey to get home from work. The doorbell rang, so wundermutt and I went to see who it was. On the other side of the door was a young teenager, probably 12 or 13 years old. He was wearing a UFC hat sideways with the bill completely flat and had dumped his bike in our hostas. Great first impression.
Being the curious pup that she is, wundermutt started barking. Our tubby little Einstein looks up at me and asks (this is verbatim), "Is that a dog?" (I wanted to tell him that the 100+ lb furry critter with 4 legs and a tail that was barking at him was a squirrel, but I didn't have the heart.) I said yes and he asked if he could pet her. I told him that I was feeding our baby right now and that I had to get back to the fussy kid.
He then started babbling about collecting money for some girl that had something wrong with her. Who it was and what was wrong with her were completely lost in translation from his mushmouth rambling to my english ears. There was no brochure, no pamphlet, nothing. Can you say red flag? I told him that I didn't have any money and that I really had to get back to my now very angry baby. He again asked if he could pet the dog. Maybe the hair hanging over his ears and fat face blocked out the sound of a screaming child. I closed the door and went back to my business.
My wife got home a minute or two later and shortly after that, I was on my way to rugby practice. On my way to practice, I stopped at the gas station to grab a Red Bull and who do I see but our friendly neighborhood rocket surgeon riding his bike. No handed. Eating a can of Pringles (that my donation most likely would have paid for). Riding straight across traffic. The two oncoming cars that he blindly rode in front of both honked and he just turned to them and gave them a blank stare as if he had no idea what he did.
I don't think he's going to be around too long. Natural selection and all.
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Definately a Darwin Jr. candidate.
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You need to cut a 4" hole in your door to let other little einteins "pat" the dog.
Would be hilarious on youtube! ;D