Inside My Head

the literary rantings of Angie Frissore

Howdy, Neighbor.

Jeff and I sat upstairs, unwinding from our respective days at work and complaining about, well, just about everything as we shared the last of Jeff’s weed.  Just as we were about to agree on the most clever way to get someone fired (which we figured would be a clever yet obvious drug plant in said person’s desk), we were interrupted by the sound of a knock at the back door.

“Who could that be?” Jeff asked, slightly paranoid.  “I didn’t see anyone come up the driveway, did you?”  I looked out the window to find that there were indeed no cars in the driveway, aside from our own.  The landlord’s family had been fully moved into their new house across town, leaving me and Jeff as the sole occupants of the sprawling property.  For the time being, at least.

Mildly freaked out by the surprise visit, we quietly made our way downstairs, tiptoeing around corners and trying to peek out of the windows before answering the door.  Jeff manned the front of the house, scanning the front yard for signs of life, as I headed for the back door, where I was met by a disheveled looking man bearing a sack of some kind.

“You must be the new neighbors,” the sketchy man muttered.

“Ummm….no,” I said nervously.  I had never seen the man before, and was starting to grow concerned over his intimate knowledge of the house.  “We’ve lived here for years.”

“Oh, I figured you just moved in.  Well anyway, I brought you some dinner,” he said, handing me the sack.  Not wanting to be openly rude, I accepted the sack and offered some off-the-top-of-my-head excuse of having to return to my own affairs.  I shut the door, ensuring all locks were sufficiently engaged, and ran for the kitchen.

“Who the hell was that?” Jeff asked, watching the sleazeball slink off down the driveway.
“I don’t know…but he gave us…..this,” I said, holding up the bag for Jeff to see.  “What do you think it is?”

“Whatever it is, it’s bleeding.”

I threw the bag onto the kitchen table as Jeff grabbed a broom handle and proceeded to work the bag open, not wanting to touch it with his hands.  He stared silently at the bag’s contents for a minute.

“Well?” I asked, impatiently.

“It’s potatoes.  And raw meat.  Did I mention raw? Yeah, it’s raw.”

I grabbed the bag and looked inside, only to confirm that there was a large chunk of raw pork, which was unwrapped from it’s cellophane packaging, coupled with a few rogue potatoes.
“Maybe it’s fine,” I said, trying to be optimistic.

“Maybe it’s been poisoned,” argued Jeff.

“But really, who would do that?”

“Who drops off a sack of unwrapped raw pig meat??” Jeff laughed.  “Maybe he’s stalking you.”

“Well, he’s not doing a very good job,” I explained.  “He though we just moved in.”

Without a word, Jeff grabbed the sack and silently headed outside, where he gently placed the sack in the Taco-refuse-bin.

“Who does that?” I asked, as Jeff ran in the house to wash his hands (repeatedly).  “Who randomly gives out raw meat to strangers?”

“Maybe we should’ve eaten it,” Jeff moaned.  “I mean, it was a free dinner.”

“Go nuts,” I encouraged.  “I’m getting a pizza.”

An hour or so later, after gorging ourselves on a large pizza with ‘the works’, we pondered the manner in which the stranger had made his way to our door.  Neither of us had seen anyone walking around, and the thought of the sketchy pork man skulking around the empty unit next door bothered us severely.

“We need to check the perimeter,” Jeff said assertively.  “Find out how he got in.”

We grabbed a flashlight and headed out into the backyard, slowly making our way around to the opposite side of the house.  The empty apartment next door was quiet.  As we approached the side of the house I noticed a path between the house and the neighbor’s fence.

“That’s where the bastard’s getting in!” I whispered.  “What do we do? We can’t have him sneakin’ up on us.”

“We blockade it,” Jeff said, still a bit stoned from earlier.

“With what?”

Jeff roamed around for a few minutes, disappearing near the utility shed.  He emerged carrying a large Styrofoam cooler.

“This? We’re gonna keep him out with a cooler?” I asked.

“It’s the best we can do right now,” Jeff muttered.  “At least he’ll know we’re on to him.”

Advertisements

October 22, 2008 - Posted by | No Messages - Excerpts from the Draft | , ,

2 Comments »

  1. that’s great.

    Comment by van | October 23, 2008 | Reply

  2. As a lover of freaky, bizarre behavior, I think this is my favorite one yet. It’s Arthur Bradfordesque, if that’ll mean anything to anyone but me. The reactions are perfect, the sack man is perfect. Now, I’m dying for a continuation of this silly man’s tales.

    Comment by Mike | October 25, 2008 | Reply


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: