Sunday, February 21, 2010
They have these neighbors that used to live behind them and they were convinced these guys were Meth dealers. Whenever the guys (Because it was all single guys living there) would go out in the backyard to "play" my Dad would get out his binoculars and stand in his kitchen
And you wondered where I get my weird genes from?
It got really strange when the dudes started adding on to their shed in the backyard. In the middle of the night. They added a second wing. And then a third. They had a satellite dish on the roof. They would spend hours upon hours--into the wee hours of the morning-- in that mac-daddy shed. All of this according to my Dad, the spy.
Purportedly, the Meth heads would bring bottles out of the shed with liquid in them. Apparently, you could hear banging from the shed, and women screaming. All in the middle of the night.
One night, my Dad tried to pull a James Bond and sneak up on them. All in the name of spying. He went out the front door, into the backyard and army crawled across our back yard to the fence they shared so he could spy. Only he's not James Bond, he's SIXTY and they totally busted him. He made it back inside before they could give him a smack bottom.
We kept asking them why they didn't just
Then one night, they were gone. Just like that. Gone. So long. Fare-well. Buh-bye.
My parents were still convinced that they were up to no good. So, during one of our family parties, guess what I did?
I totally went out to the wood shed.
I drove around the block, I parked in front of the house and started snooping around. I was a regular little Nancy Drew. My heart was racing 900 miles a minute as I approached that wood shed. What if we opened that door and found a dead body? Or... or... Or something worse.
Like two dead bodies.
I opened that door and there were no dead bodies. There was, however, shelves and cable outlet boxes and mirrors. Lots and lots of full length mirrors.
Oh. And a security system on the door.
I got a little scared and ran away... After taking my photo peeking over the fence at my Dad.
Now, instead of standing in his kitchen with the binoculars, my Dad sits on his front porch with the binoculars. And we bust open watermelons with the garage door.
Totally the Burbs.