Last week I mentioned in my post that I use to live in a crappy neighborhood.
I miss that place.
As a writer, inspiration comes in many forms. That neighborhood was full of stories. I had low windows so I could see out them while sitting in my recliner. And man the things I saw. The windows in my new place are higher so sadly, I don't see as much stuff.
I've decided to share some of the shenanigans I saw at my old place on this blog.
This first one involves the people directly across the street from me. (many of my stories will involve them)
This family consisted of an older couple and their early 20ish son who had an anger problem. One day I heard the son yelling at his mother to give him the keys to the car they all shared. She apparently was refusing. He came outside and slammed the storm door over and over until it came off its hinges, all the while yelling at her to give him the keys. She still refused. He then proceeded to go around the house beating on the windows.
He went to the back porch and hit that storm door window until it shattered. He was barefoot. Not good. A neighbor, apparently fed up with the yelling, called the police. I would never do that. I was having too much fun. The police called an ambulance to treat his many cuts. He refused their help, all the while still yelling at his mother to give him the keys.
And guess what? When it was all over, she gave him the keys. Way to go mom.
I had to laugh when I read you wouldn't have called the police because you were enjoying it. I guess as long as it doesn't come YOUR way. We used to have a drug house across the street from us. Wasn't really a bad neighborhood, but the police were at that house ALL THE TIME.
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