The other night Benni turned 22. I was pretty impressed by our spur of the moment party which included a few people that we rarely get to hang out with. So we're playing music and YouTube videos up on the large TV with the music coming through the surround sound. Well, needless to say it got a little loud. It wasn't ridiculous like I sometimes have it, but we live about 20 feet from the next trailer.
Let's give you some background on our neighbor and his current posterity: We'll call him Alpha =)
Alpha is in his 30's, works on oil rig equipment, and is into all things white trash. This includes music of the metal variety, drinking light beer on the front porch for hours, and domestic disputes.
Beta is Alpha's wife. Beta overly obsesses about her daughters life and the color of her hair, which is currently bleach blonde amalgamated with some fading pink. Beta is the least aggressive of the pack.
Mini-Alpha is currently following in his father's footsteps. Mini-Alpha wears shorts in the winter, a trait shared by many white trashers. He also skateboards in front of our house, terrorizes the neighborhood, and will one day rule Trashdom with an Aluminum Fist. Mini-Alpha was once insulted by a rule, for now his days are rage-filled and he breaks and defys ALL rules. School suspension and detention, dirtbiking fast on the street without a helmet, picking on those younger than him, wearing brown and black at the same time, and oh the best: kicking and punching the siding of our trailer while Benni is studying and I'm trying to cure cancer (I have to at least pretend that I'm productive).
Mini-Beta once worked at Harley-Davidson like I did. According to her mother, Beta, she was hired on only for her large breasts. She was also "forced" to wear smaller than normal shirts to acccentuate her Venus-like figure (Upper Paleolithic...think 13th warrior Venus figure with the exaggerated breasts, belly, and gluts). from what I've noticed, Mini-Beta is no longer allowed to live with her Chevy-ridin' boyfriend. Mr. Chevy-Ridin'-High can often be seen around the neighborhood, wearing jeans tucked into cowboy boots and proving that his wife-beater can indeed soak up mustard spills.
This pack of albino garbage will arrive home from school/work/hell each day and enter into their routines. The palm trees next to the porch will slowly be sprinkled with cigarette butts, the nice perversions and profanities will drift from the street where Mini-Alpha is playing, and my personal "favourite," Death Metal Gayness. Death Metal Gayness is a name I meticulously chose (in about 3 seconds) for Alpha's band he practices with in the afternoons and evenings. These guys are incredible...at sucking. Each song (all 3!) consists of double-bassing and overdriven distortion. Thank God that they believe singing is for wussies. If they were to sing I would die from electric shock which was inflicted upon myself to escape the cacophany.
Anyways, now that you have a little background, now you should know that at about 12:30am, Alpha storms over and walks up onto our porch. He demands that Mr Cracker, a good friend of mine open the door. Mr Cracker says, "Haha what? UH-no!"
Alpha does not like this. So Alpha yanks open our screen door, and with his claws opens the door and enters into our home to stand in our front entryway. Everybody just stares at this guy. Who the hell are you and why are you in the house? Alpha actually starts YELLING at us to turn the volume down!
Yes, it was right for us to turn it down, but how dare he actually barge into our house! Unannounced, unwanted, and just downright impolite. He could have knocked, asked Mr Cracker to speak with the owner/owners of the house, or just left a damn message with Mr Cracker. And the absurdity of it all is that his band makes far more noise, far more often.
Bennihana, in his infinite wisdom of inebriation, made a few signs to tape onto the windows facing Alpha's house: "Who's tired of the crappy rock band?"
I didn't go to sleep the night of the party, and I had to be at work early in the morning. I made it there and worked til 5:30pm. When I got home from work, completely exhausted and hungry, I just about passed out. Until the knocking began. "Someone" saw that both of us were home and started banging on our door. Well I'm not going to talk to this guy. Benni doesn't want to either. This was not polite knocking either. RAAAAAAAAAGGGGGEEEE! Angy-angy-man knocking 'twas. It keeps going on about every 15 minutes.
So now I'm gonna be speaking with the manager of the trailer park later today and see what she does, and then I'm going to bring the popos in on it if nothing happens.
OH! This is rather funny, I've been writing for a while now and Death Metal Gayness has started their Tour of the Muddafuggin' Living Room.
Bringin' my piece to disturb da peace,
P-Thugalicious
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