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Sordid Friday, Two Days Late: Neighbors!

Have you been arrested yet because your neighbor called the police on you?  Then you don’t have the kind of neighbors I heard about last week.

Chris Brewer, author and owner of The Book Garden

Chris Brewer, author and owner of The Book Garden

I was in Chris Brewer’s Framing Shop in upscale downtown Exeter, and I had to wait in line to talk to him.  While I waited, I heard the remains of some sordid neighbor tales, and I told the victim I would protect her name, but I had to share these stories.  They were too fabulous to keep to myself.

The victim, approximately aged 65, is a moon-watcher.  She keeps track of all its phases, researches the moon, and loves gazing at the moon.  The problem on this particular night was that her trees blocked the beautiful orb.  She moved to the center of the street, but the trees still obscured her view.  Soon she had inched her way over to the neighbor’s house and stood near his truck sipping her water, gazing contentedly at the loving man in the moon.  Within minutes of her arrival at the side of the truck, sirens blasted their way down the street towards her, and broke the spell of her night-dreaming.

supermoon-2013

The local police car screeched to a stop.  The officers jumped from the car, guns pointed.  They shouted her reported sins of trespassing, and being drunk in a public place as they cautiously approached her.  Unperturbed, she showed them her water, asked if they wanted to give her a breath test, as she patiently explained the phases of the moon to them.  With egg on their faces, they declined to arrest her, and left her as she reluctantly walked back to her forested yard losing immediate connection with her beloved moon.

On another occasion she and her husband baited the neighbor, who always seemed to know what went on privately inside the confines of their living room.  Several times the neighbor had asked questions about subjects that he would have no way to know about, so they put him to the test.  Her husband had just brought in the mail.  A stack of white envelopes.

Guess which envelope contains a check for $200,000.

Guess which envelope contains a check for $200,000.

“Did we get the check for $200,000?” she asked in an excited loud voice.

In a matching raised tone, he answered, “Yes, the check came for that property we sold!  How would you like to spend it?”  Of course, we all know that there was no check, right?

They discussed the potential of spending the $200,000 for several minutes until the phone rang.  It was the neighbor.  “Have you opened your mail yet?” he queried innocently.

I wonder if he thought they were going to share their “fortune” with him.

What sordid neighborly tales have you heard recently?  Maybe you are living next to the sordid neighbor him or herself.  I hope not!  If you are, and need a good realtor, I have the perfect Central California realtor for you.

Vincie Pie no background resize

Tell me your tales.  🙂

 

 

25 replies »

  1. I love the moon gazer story, Marsha. I am sorely tempted to try that. I really would like to be breathalysed. Both Mrs. Ha and I are teetotal but we never get the fun of being pulled over. Maybe I should keep my water in a Jack Daniels bottle. And by the way, if the $200,000 ever turns up I know a good cause in HK 🙂

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  2. The neighbour is probably not as bad as one thinks. Maybe lonely or having family issues. It’s amazing how disputes escalate usually due to lack of communication.

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    • So should she give them neighbor a check for half of what she got in the mail? Did you turn your tetotlin’ neighbor over the the Spanish authorities because she was drinking water while standing next to your apartment building, Ralph? Is this past experience coming out? hmmmm Something I did not know about MFR. 🙂 xox BTW, where’s my xox from MFR?

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  3. I just adore that photo of Vince.

    And what an excellent write!!!

    I have gone romping through yards in pursuit of rogue cats (luckily they’ve finally caught on to their training and do not bolt anymore), and of course, police were tootled for. The police probably have a note next to my photo on their bleeping little screen huddled away in the darkness of their cruisers that says, “Frequently looses and looks for cats in yard, forgets age and name, and goes for suspicious evening walks in street wearing strange hats”

    I hop to the beach for my moon-gawking. If I see the flashing LED blues, I just warble down to the next board walk and steal away surreptitiously.

    One time, I was almost arrested for walking the cat suspiciously on a harness. This was back when we briefly lived in a condo. Another condo-dweller gaped out his window and spied a rough-looking suspicious lass wearing an old-man-hat in the moonlight, walking a black cat on a harness in the parking lot. The police were rapidly summoned. They blocked off both entrances and began a search for me, torches blazing. I slipped into the shadows and bolted up the stairs with Buddha, the cat, and managed to escape. The police hovered around looking for me and finally gave up after about 40 minutes or so.

    We had neighbours with big-ears up north. Unpleasant.

    Too many grins with this post. Excellent indeed.

    babs

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    • Your experience sounds scary! This lady seemed like she could hold her own with the neighbor and with the police. I have another great story about a lady that holds her own with scammers on the phone. 🙂 Maybe tomorrow! It’s Friday already! 🙂

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      • Scary?? Har har har, oh no. I’ve been in much closer scrapes with police in pursuit. One time, as a very young lassie, it was not only police, but a band of young blokes, that were in pursuit, and this was a running pursuit, and I had the most irritating anchor of a chum that was in the habit of freezing in fear. I literally had to toss her over a fence (which was just silly, she was perfectly capable herself, and was much larger than I was…fear! HMPH. Blasted hassle!) and then drag her with me into the cover of tall grasses, or the blighters would have caught up with us, and I would have been forced to beat them up…arg. The police had just showed up, not sure what was going on yet, and eventually caught up to the lads, my friend and I getting away completely unscathed.

        See, it had been all perfectly innocent to begin with. Hache (that’s my friend) and I were just looking for some dead bodies. It was one of those wild grey days, with a howling wind whipping through bony trees, dead leaves stirring in the hollow streets, and I thought what perfect weather to search for bodies. So we went looking.

        Eventually, we came upon this sort of clearing behind an abandoned old farm-house, (have I told this story to you before??) nestled in the trees. There were shovels and freshly filled-in holes. Six-foot in length. You could just imagine how excited I was. Kitten with yarn, slug in the cool dew, and all that- thrilled. Hache had a different reaction, all nervous and fearful. She always has been one for anxiety. She didn’t really want to look for bodies, to begin with. She didn’t have coroners’ numbers memorized and so forth like I did. (I tormented this poor lass, I also threw her into a ditch once, accidentally, and got us chased again, by four-wheelers in a quarry) Anyhow…

        Suddenly we heard raucous banter behind us. Then, threatening taunts were launched at us through the trees as a gang of teen lads tried to get to us, pawing through the bramble. I announced to Heather it was time to dart. I had prepared her for this possibility before our adventure, but she seemed to have forgotten her training…She stood there, dark eyes swollen with fear, convinced this was the end and it was time to just accept it. I do not tend to do that sort of thing, however. Accept ends and so forth.

        So I pushed her into a sprint with me through the trees and into the prairie where the grasses swiveled just beyond, soughing high above our heads. There was a fence. I sailed over it and realized I was chum-less on the other side. Hache had stopped, stolid with fear. The lads were shouting like they had won a lottery, snickering and ululating like a pack of jackals. Not a very nice sound. There were about six lads barreling after us. Cops, we saw later, were some distance behind them, shuffling about, not quite sure where the voices were coming from. No help to us…and likely to be a threat if they found us, anyhow. (The police were quite nasty up there. But slow and inefficient, also, usually. My mum and I once had to help the police catch a criminal, which was actually quite a comical experience, but anyhow- back to where I was…)

        I dashed over the fence again and shoved Hache over. She went sprawling, completely shocked. She stumbled to her feet just as I was grabbing her again. She tried to swivel around to stare back at the lads. I didn’t let her, pulling her along in a full run. Even as I dragged her, we managed to move far faster than the blokes. When we were in the complete cover of the tawny grasses, whipping high above our heads, Hache began to breathe again and started to run on her own accord.

        We stopped and listened for them. Hache seemed to be out of her daze, at last. They were still coming, but had slowed in confusion as we’d vanished. The excellent cover of conifer trees were just a sprint away. We dashed and then crouched completely still, there, in the heady smell of spruce and pine. The voices died away. I clambered up into a tree, could see the lads retreating. Still, we waited for some time, slowly maneuvering toward the road. About an hour later, we were cruising by, ducking behind trees, walking right past the gang of lads being questioned by the police, near the road. They never saw us. Never did find out what was in those holes, blast!

        I don’t do as much body-hunting down here. The weather just doesn’t cooperate…

        Cheers,

        Autumn

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        • Actually I’m kind of glad you are out of the body-hunting business. What an exciting tale, but not one I would have enjoyed living through! I don’t have the same curiosity that seems to motivate you. If I saw a hole like that, most likely I would never go that direction again. My husband would. He is the most curios one in the family. I’m afraid I am not very observant. If I saw a 6 foot rectangular shaped mound, I would probably think someone is preparing a potato patch organized flower bed. if the marigolds turned out to be 5 inches in diameter, I’d probably start to wonder, but first I’d consider their fertilizer. We have l tons of horses and cows in this area. Experience with that kind of fertilizer, I know for myself they produce large plants!

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Marsha

Marsha

Hi, I'm Marsha Ingrao, a retired educator and wife of a retired realtor. My all-consuming hobby is blogging and it has changed my life. My friends live all over the world. In November 2020, we sold everything and retired to the mile-high desert of Prescott, AZ. We live less than five miles from the Granite Dells, four lakes, and hundreds of trails with our dog, Kalev, and two cats, Moji and Nutter Butter. Vince's sister came with us and lives close by. Every day is a new adventure.

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