Unless you work the 3rd shift or you have a newborn infant, you really should never have to see 4AM on a Tuesday morning. In fact, I think that should be a federal mandate.
So when there was a loud, repeated banging on our door at 4 this morning, Wifey and I were understandably confused / concerned. 4AM is never going to bring good news. Now even before all of the crap with my feet I was never all that fast, and now I am even slower. Add to that the fact that I had taken a couple of Tylenol PMs before bed (every few days I have to do that so that I can get SOME sleep), and I was not very quick to answer the call. But when I finally got upstairs, I saw my wife and Larry the Upstairs Neighbor talking to a couple of police officers. The officers were walking away as Larry walked outside, wearing only his boxers, to move his car forward a few feet.
Why in the hell would he do this?
Because the guy who lives in the house next to us is a monumental cocksucker of the first order. Apparently he arbitrarily decided that Larry "constantly" parks too close to his Precious Snowflake-mobile, and that he "is always" scratching up his bumper.
Just so you know, that is utter bullshit. Jackass is the one who will only park in certain places so that the birds don't poop on his car and the sap doesn't damage his finish (and yet the tree is in HIS front yard!). So he will park in one of his designated spots, and I have on many occasions come out to find his car parked an ass hair off of my bumper. But it is always the other person, right Cocksmoker Jones?
I don't know if I named him in the past, but even if I did THIS is now his name.
And God forbid that he try speaking to someone like a real live human being and adult. He is incapable of walking up to Larry and saying "Do you think you could possibly not park so close to me?" Nope. It's straight up "CALL THE COPS!!!!" time with Mr. Jones.
This is the same guy who threw a shit fit because I was grilling, making a point to close all of his windows and then to call the cops because of the smoke getting into his house. I gently explained to Mr. Police Officer that I had no control over the prevailing winds, so I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do in order to appease him. The officer agreed and (after turning down my offer of a cheeseburger) left without issuing me the citation Mr. Cocksmoker thought I surely deserved. He called Animal Control so many times because of the supposed dog poop that was in my yard from my dog (even though Wifey is extremely diligent about picking it up) that Animal Control put a flag in the computer about our address and that particular complaint. They will no longer come out for that called in complaint, they just tell the caller that they will take care of it and then hang up on him (kind of like Verizon!).
Well, once I had a bit of my wits about me, I told Larry that he needed to go take pictures of both his AND Cocksmoker Jones' bumpers, and that he needed to call in the morning to get the police report number. Other than that, all we can hope for is that the cops get as tired of Mr. Jones' shenanigans as Animal Control did, and they start ignoring him, too. And THEN his car gets broken into / stolen.
Sometimes it is okay to have a petty thought or two, right?