Pop quiz, hot shot.
Who do you think a gerbil considers to be his good friend? The parent raggin’ all the time about making choices for a better tomorrow? Or, perchance, the neighbor with the big bowl of weed who is more than willing to share?
“You just don’t understand me!” yells the gerbil on the way out the door to visit the neighbor who “understands” way better than we ever could.
Hey, gerbil. Listen up. No doubt he thinks your nose ring is great. Maybe he thinks it is awesome that you don’t have a job. Perhaps the fact that you dropped out of school impresses the ever-lovin’ shit out him. Ear lobes gauged to the limit probably turn him on. A physical appearance that makes local employers want to hurl is probably the shiznitty bomb. If that is “understanding” you then maybe I don’t fucking want to.
I have a question? Where will mister wonderful neighbor be 20 to 30 years from now? Will he even be around? Will he love you and care about your welfare the way we do? Talk about not “understanding” something. Where will your good buddy the neighbor be when the shit really hits the fan and you have no where else to turn in life? Where will he be when you face living in the gutter?
And to you, Mr. Neighbor, let me just say this: Thanks so much for everything you do for our son. Really. I can’t thank you enough. Will you be around to pick up the pieces that are left when our son finally comes face to face with reality? Where will you be when that happens? Do me a favor, will ya? Please go die and rot in hell. You’re in your 30’s now for heaven’s sake, you’ve got young kids of your own, you’re almost married (if shacking up counts) and you are playing hooky from your “manager” job at the local bank with your fake back injury. When the hell are you going to grow up? Some fine example you set for our son. You are too injured to work yet every single night at your house is party time and the beer and smokes and pot are offered up at a never-ending buffet.
Our son is lost. He’s going to have to eat the shit sandwich and come out the other end before he gets a friggin’ clue and learns to deal. But thanks for the added bonus of your help, asshole. Thanks for being there for our son.
Shouts from the Abyss 
It’s always so easy to give advice and be a pal when you know if things get hairy you can just bail and know that it’s not your responsibility. Unfortunately, good luck telling that to a your son and having him understand. It always sucks to have to be the responsible one, doesn’t it?
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One thing I learned from Gerbil #1 (who is now in temporary remote mode AKA living on his own) is that there is absolutely no advice that will be listened to. None. Ever. The peer influence and follower instinct is just too great.
Since Gerbil #1 is no longer nesting in our home, this blog has primarily concerned itself with the study of Gerbil #2. That’s where all the action is these days.
Yes, Gerbil #2 is 21 years old and thus society considers him to be an “adult.” Personally I feel the legal standard of adulthood should be moved up to about 30 or so.
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This is horrible… I think you should print this out and give it to your next door neighbor. Eeh, I don’t know — bums me out to hear your frustration and your anger. But you are right of course. And what makes it worse is…there’s probably little more you can do than what you are doing.
I’m not too religious, but keeping you in prayer my friend. Keeping your family in prayer.
Hugs,
Nadia.
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I’ve written about these neighbors before. In every neighborhood there is always one house that spoils the environment for everyone. In our neighborhood that house is literally 10 feet from mine. (Of course. Why would it be any other way?) So we absorb the brunt of what they have to offer. The parties every day, the obnoxious kids POUNDING on our door because they threw their toy over our fence, the guests that park on the sidewalk, in front of our driveway, etc. It … never … ends.
You know, something just occurred to me. It’s not easy living in the Abyss! 🙂
Thanks for the prayers. Those are always graciously accepted. WOOT!
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OH! These are the SAME friggin’ neighbors? Wow! Okay, I get it even more now. Yeah, there is always ONE neighbor that ruins it for everyone else. We have the same thing here — but, I’m feeling for you and the Gerbil #2. Another hug your way… (keep hangin’ on….).
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Yep, the very same neighbors. Funny how it worked out they are located right next to my humble abode. 🙂
Here’s the view outside my home office window:
Through the window you see nothing except creep-o neighbor’s house 10 feet away
We live in a nice house in a shitty development. I call it “Santa Claus style-development” because the layout of single-family development only benefits two people. The developer and also Santa Claus. Santa gets the added benefit of a single landing and takeoff. Because the houses are so close together he can simply hop from rooftop to rooftop. My calculations show that it increases efficiency for Santa by about 90%. (And means bigger profits for the developer, too.)
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OMG! But I’m laughing at your Santa Claus reference. You are too funny (as a writer anyways), even when you’re annoyed! I love that!
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[…] neighbors. If you’ve been paying attention, I already introduced them. We first met them in My neighbor is parenting my kid then got to know them better in The smell of […]
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[…] Comments The neighbors days a… on The smell of freedomThe neighbors days a… on My neighbor is parenting my…shoutabyss on Ancestry.com can eat my a…alwaysjan on Ancestry.com can eat […]
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[…] Anyway, it turns out that our gerbil became friends with our neighbors even though we never did. No doubt it had a lot to do with the fact that they have so much in common. Like smoking, marijuana, drugs, drinking, partying, irresponsibility and much, much more. (I wrote about this in My neighbor is parenting my kid.) […]
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