Tag Archives: neighbors

The mother of all baby showers

8 Apr
Image

Drawing by Gus Morgan

My neighbors are crazy.

And they are driving me crazy.

It’s approaching midnight, and noise is pouring from the house across the street.

They have been carrying on for hours. They’ve got liquor in them now.

I wish you could hear what I’m hearing.

These are not ordinary noises, but sounds you might hear coming from the deep backwoods of Kentucky in the early 1800s. The noises I hear belong on The Texas Chainsaw Massacre soundtrack.

An animal-like cry just pierced the night, causing my cat to curl into a fetal position.

Now, here is what is even more disturbing.

They posted a sign in their yard earlier today, which said, “It’s a boy.”

I know they didn’t just have a baby. I guess they are hosting a baby shower for a friend.

I’ve tried to put myself in their shoes, to think like them. To outthink the beast, you must become the beast.

Possible thought patterns running through their brains:

“Hey, let’s host a baby shower. Yeah, man, let’s make it go on for hours and hours. Let’s serve lots of liquor. Smoke. Play loud music. And, hey, let’s have it in our garage with the doors open. And, yes, let’s not forget to invite Uncle Buck and Sally Sue. Honey, get the pigs’ feet out of the freezer. I’m going to barbecue tonight.”

Vehicles are clogging the street in front of my house, and the road itself is on the verge of a cardiac arrest. How many people are over there?

This is not how baby showers are supposed to play out.

Maybe if I was at the baby shower, I would have a different perspective on this whole deal.

Maybe I should go over and join them.

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My confession: I once owned a lawn mower with three wheels

29 Mar

Drawing by Gus Morgan

Last year’s drought killed huge patches of my lawn. My once lush St. Augustine oasis has been reduced to a patch of weeds, leaving it looking like a dog with mange.

It may never return to its former glory, but I am determined to whip it back into shape. However, there is one problem. I need a new mower.

You see, I buried my old push mower last year. It was time. It lived a long and fruitful life. I bought it 10 years ago for $100. But last year, the back right wheel snapped off, and I was stuck with a three-wheeled mower.

To put it bluntly, having a three-wheeled mower is not good. It’s like owning a three-legged dog (For the record, I have never owned a three-legged dog, but one lives down the street from me. This is not a lie.). And no, I couldn’t just buy another wheel to replace the old one. The metal body where the wheel attached had rusted away. Imagine a mower with leprosy. That’s what I had.

In retrospect, that mower made me famous, or rather the laughingstock of Saddlebrook Village. When I would bring out my mower, my neighbors would stop and stare.

I could feel their prying eyes judging me and my machine.

I know what they were thinking: “There’s Gus again with his three-wheeled mower. That poor son-of-a-bitch. Why doesn’t he just buy a new mower?”

So this winter, I finally trashed my old mower in disgust. But I never replaced it.

And a man without a mower is no good really. To remedy my loss, I began searching for a replacement. I went to Lowes. I went to Home Depot. I went to Sears. At these stores, I would stop in front of the mower sections and look. And look. But I never bought one. Frozen by price shock, I would retreat, thinking I would buy again another day. Nope.

Now, I still have a weed eater, but it is worthless. It’s electric, and, in theory, should handle all the trimming needs for my suburban lawn. I paid $70 for it about two years ago. But the line is supposed to spool easily and it doesn’t. No bumping required it says. Lies. All lies.

It refuses to dispense line correctly. And so I leave it sitting in my garage, a weed eater timeout. But it mocks me from its corner. I’m going to get rid of it, too.

And so, for now, I’ve turned to using a lawn man to take care of my yard. His machines are like rock stars. He has a self-propelled lawnmower, a commercial-grade Honda that cost $1,000. And his weed eater cost him $500, the Porsche of weed wackers.

I’ve been outclassed by my own lawn man. This I cannot stand.

I’m going back to Home Depot today. Probably just to look.

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