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Sunday, March 17, 2013

Part IV: The Mysterious Egg Meteors; or That Ain't No Way to Make an Omelet


Welcome back to the serial posting of the Jefferson Hillbillies, the lurching humanoids who moved in four houses down and who quickly became a topic of neighborhood bewilderment.

As a precursor, I live in Nordeast Minneapolis, a neighborhood of artists, working folk, retired people, people who walk their dogs and plant flowers. Our lawns are small, and, for the most part, neat. There are bars and restaurants and churches and various shops in walking distance; and in a land that became a state in 1858, we are proud of the houses in our neighborhood built between 1898 and 1904. We are secretaries and writers, musicians and plumbers, programmers and delivery men.

And we’re a fairly tolerant group.

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the next installment of The Jefferson Hillbillies.

First, they moved in.

Then they set themselves up as the place to go for severely discounted and recently liberated home stereo speakers.

Then they showed you just how easy it is to be a giving person.

Today’s episode?

The Mysterious Egg Meteors 
It is a summer’s day like any summer’s day in Minneapolis. In other words, it is warm; and we are pitifully thankful. We’re an easy group to impress from April to August, whereupon it will get ridiculously hot.

And then we lose our perspective.

We have not yet reached that point.

I live across the street from a park; and on the weekends, I feel it behooves me to pop over there, pick up some garbage, check for bums, that sort of thing. We don’t have a big bum problem in our park, although I did once throw away the world’s smelliest pillow.

I grab a plastic bag, my trusty stick-with-a-nail-in-it, and set out to rid the world of unsightly trash.

And who should I run into, just four houses down, than Boris, Number One Square-Headed Son in a family of square-headed sons. He is sitting on the hood of a car.

“Hey!” he calls.

“Hey,” I say.

“You got any money?”

“Yes,” I say, walking.

“Can I have some?”

“No.”

“Pssssss,” he hisses, as if there had been an agreement earlier that I would be supplying him with cash.

I walk on.

“Let me know if you find anything interesting,” he calls out.

I keep walking. Sure, I think, I'll call ya.

Now, I’ve found on these walks, as has been previously disclosed, the world’s smelliest pillow. I’ve also found an iPod engraved “To Olivia, with all my love, Daddy”, large numbers of beer cans, plastic cups and plates, and a cell phone. But I’d yet to find eggs.

But there they are, less than a block away. Dozens and dozens of eggs, most of them smashed on cars, some on houses. Some are splattered impotently in the streets, others lie crushed and gooey on the sidewalk.

I am furious.

I call the police, who, in bored tones, tell me there have been several calls already. They are on their way.

I cut my garbage-walk short and go home the way I’d come. Boris is still on the car.

He looks pleased with himself.

“Find anything interesting?” he sneers.

“Not really,” I say. I am so angry I am dizzy. I’m a scary person when I’m angry – best to keep moving.

“Nothing?” he presses. He is smiling in a this-neighborhood-is-mine sort of way.

He thinks he runs this place.

I stop abruptly, turn back.

“Well now that ya mention it, someone did a really crappy job of making breakfast,” I snap, bright stars of anger wreathing my head, “but most likely that person’s got some sort of mental defect and won’t be around much longer. Ya gotta feel sorry for people that stupid.”

And while he stares, I turn and walk. And when I get home, I sit down in front of the computer. I’m going to contact their landlord, just as soon as I can figure out who it is.

It’s a tolerant neighborhood. Not a stupid one.

25 comments:

mybabyjohn/Delores said...

What a waste of eggs. What kind of idiot calls attention to their acts of vandalism?

The Savage said...

I can't wait until the eviction/jail episode... I'm riveted...

The Savage said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Suldog said...

Good Lord. Reading this, combined with yesterday's tale of panhandling, makes me yearn for a denouement including tar and feathers. Please make it so.

joeh said...

Please send me some money...if ya got any:

Cranky O.M.
po box 999
Saryeville N.J. 08872

Thanks.

jenny_o said...

Did you still have that stick/nail combo in your hand? It would have been so tempting to use it. But your words were even sharper - what a comeback! It takes me a least a day to think of something remotely that good!

Leenie said...

Problem is the guy was probably so thick-witted that your sharp and clever comeback probably went right over his head like an egg in a slingshot.

Birdie said...

What a twit. He needs a spank.

┈▕▔▔▔▔▔▔▏┈╰╮Happy┈
▂▂▇▇┏▅┓▇▂▂╭╯┈St.┈┈
╲▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔╱╰╮Patrick's
╭▔▔▉▔▔▉▔▔╮┈╰╮Day┈
╭̸╭┳▔╭╮▔╮╮╮┈╭╯┈☘┈┈
╭̸╭╰━━━━▃▃▃▃▉┈┈┈☘┈
╭̸╭̸╭̸╭̷┓┏╮╮╮╮┈┈┈┈☘┈┈

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari Om
Yes. Very slow to anger, myself. But don't be near me when it goes off. Stick in hand? Sure and steady aim is another talent of mine.

As for Birdie - begorrah!!!

Eva Gallant said...

Every village has an idiot, I guess.

R.H. said...

Bullshit.

Kathleen McCoy said...

Loved your zinger to the neighborhood idiot, Pearl! That's so annoying -- such a mess and really does do damage. I hope you're free of them soon!

Glen said...

Pearl, whenever I think of you I picture the Tazmanian Devil -- I see a whirlwind of dust and mayhem going with you.. err.. in a good way...

sage said...

"A crappy job of making breakfast!" What a line! I'm glad that your misfortunes become our chuckles!

HermanTurnip said...

What the H?! How can some people have so little respect for where they live? Reminds me of our neighbors from hell who, thankfully, moved out about a year ago. The Neighborhood has been a quiet and pleasant place to live since their departure. Here's hoping for a similar outcome for you!

bill lisleman said...

immature people should stick to plastic eggs.

Susan Flett Swiderski said...

You go, girl!

I've thoroughly enjoyed this series.

Rose L said...

Hmmm...ever heard the saying tit for tat? Midnight dropping of eggs has been known to happen!

Jo-Anne Meadows said...

The only time you waste eggs like that is when the eggs are rotten

Cloudia said...

police report. Get it all on record.
Sorry, Hon



ALOHA from Honolulu
Comfort Spiral
~ > < } } ( ° > <3
> < } } ( ° >

The Elephant's Child said...

Is it unkind to hope that the eggs were the only food in the house and that he was hungry in the next few days? Yes, probably. Never mind, I have been called worse - and with less accuracy.

River said...

What a senseless waste of good food!
Over here, if someone asks if you have any money, it's a big mistake to say yes.

Linda O'Connell said...

Ha ha, you hit him with your best shot, too bad you didn't turn around and fling an egg at his brainless noggin, look skyward and say, "Ooops!"

R.H. said...

Big head panhandles for a fiver. You only want $3.99.

Classy.

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

Ooooh...Hooligan, meet Neighbor Pearl. My money's on Neighbor Pearl.