I have a crazy drunk neighbor. (Don't we all? LOL)
This guy, Ronnie, has given me the creeps from day 1 after buying my house but becuz I'm a nice person, and I realize that he has no one really in his life (his parents are dead...he has a brother that he sees maybe once a month, he doesn't work, he has no car just some little scooter-thingie) and I've heard he is just a lonely, drunk man...well I sorta have always felt sympathetic to him. Not the drunk part, just the lonely part.
There have been so many odd things this man has done. When I first moved in and met him, Ronnie said to me, "Marge (Marge was the previous owner) is a lesbian." Um, okay. I asked him why he thought that, cuz I had met her and last I knew, she was a divorced 40-something woman with teenage kids, dating a man. Granted, that didn't mean she couldn't have been a lesbian. Anyway, Ronnie's reply was, "Well I asked her out and she wouldn't go out with me. So she must be a lesbian." Yep, yep, that's why she wouldn't go out with you, dude.
I remember back before I was Daryl, when I lived alone, I was sitting on my couch with little Daisy one summer night with the windows open, watching tv when all of a sudden I heard what to me sounded like a gunshot. I instinctively dropped to the floor, with Daisy under my arm like a sack of potatoes, and crouched there for a moment, waiting. Eventually I crawled over to the window and peeked out, thinking just maybe a car had backfired or some of my punky neighbors down the street towards the ghetto were maybe lighting off fireworks.
Nothing. Silence. Empty streets. Totally unsettled, I locked up the windows, grabbed Daisy and went to my bedroom, figuring I'd watch tv in bed. Immediately I heard another gunshot.
What the hell? I told myself if I heard it one more time, I was calling the police. The rest of the evening passed in uninterrupted silence. The next day I happened to be chatting with some neighbors across the street when I brought up the sound.
"Oh yeah, we heard it." Mike said, "That was crazy, drunk Ronnie shooting at "skunks" with his gun!" Mind you, I had every window open in the house and never once smelled skunk that night (my house and Ronnie's are very close. I can look out my side windows and into his side windows.) We surmised that maybe he, in a drunken stupor, thought his cat was a skunk. (It's okay, he didn't get it! The cat is still alive). Another time, when Daisy ran away, I was frantically asking every neighbor if they had seen her...I started talking to Ronnie and asked him to keep an eye out for her. "Okay, Dolly!" He slurred. Dolly is his cat.
What else? When I go outside to put out my garbage cans and Ronnie is sitting out in his lawn chair in his garage, he'll watch me, and sometimes stumble around his driveway and inspect the grass, intermittantly sneaking glances at me. When I go out to my truck to go somewhere, and he is out there, he stares at me. It gives me the willies. When I am in my back yard, I can see Ronnie wandering around his backyard, glancing quickly over his fence into my yard.
The most recent crazy-drunk-Ronnie story I can tell you was a couple of weeks ago, when I stayed home sick with a stomach ache. After laying on the couch for a few hours I started to feel better so I decided to go outside and water my flowers. I brought out the doggies, a glass of water, a blanket and a magazine and after watering my flowers I laid down to read for a bit. It was hot that day, I remember, and the pooches started to pant heavily so I decided to go back inside with them. Less than 20 minutes or so of being in the house, both dogs start racing around the living room and barking at the door. I had the inside front door open to let in some fresh air and light, but I had the screen door locked. Usually the dogs will go wild like that when the mailman drops off the mail so at first I just ignored them. When they didn't stop acting crazy, I finally stood up and glanced out the window and almost jumped out of my skin to see Ronnie standing at the bottom of my front stoop, staring intently at the dogs or the front door, not exactly sure which. Not standing at the front door, not knocking or ringing the bell, just standing like a statue at the bottom of the steps, staring straight ahead.
"Uh, hi Ronnie." I stammered, as nervous goosebumps popped out along my arms. I looked down to be sure the door was locked.
"Whoa!" He slurred, and came stumbling up the steps. "how many dogs ya got there? Four?"
"Um, no, just two dogs." Idiot! I should have just agreed, yes, four crazy dogs!
"I heard ya got married....con...congratulations." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact. I though to myself that I would kill my neighbors across the street later...they were no doubt the ones who had shared this info with Ronnie. "I--uh--I wanted to say something...mumble, slur, mumble, mumble--"
"Never mind, never mind. Do you like fish?"
"Fish? Uh, not really, but Daryl does." Geez Louise, why I didn't just cut him off at the pass and say "nope, no one here likes fish" is beyond me. That stupid nice gene overrides everything else in my brain sometimes.
"I'm going to bring you over some fish."
"Uh, yeah, sure. Okay."
He stumbled away and I quickly scooped up my cell and called Big D. No answer. Naturally. Becuz it was the one time I really needed/wanted him, he wasn't answering. I then called my mother.
"Mom, Mom! You gotta talk to me for a minute so I can have a reason to not make conversation with Ronnie!" I cried.
"I am in the elementary school picking up A.J. I'm losing cell service...I'll have to call you back." My mom informed me.
Ronnie was back, holding a tin foil package of frozen fish. I let big Tucker stand in front of me and kept wiry little Daisy in one arm, barking insanely. At that moment I was so thankful my dogs were misbehaving. I hoped it made them look meaner. Heh. I quickly unlocked the door, grabbed the fish, and closed the door back up and locked it, thanking him so much.
"I wanted to ask you...uh...never mind, never mind." Ronnie mumbled quickly again.
"What, Ronnie? What do you want to ask me?" I asked trying to contain my impatience, wishing he would just spit it out.
"I just wondered when (he might have said if, it was very mumbly) I could kiss the bride."
Ugh. I seriously think I might have vomited in my mouth. Thank god my cell rang at that very moment. Big D to the rescue!
"Oh HI, Daryl!" I gasped out and quickly motioned to the phone to Ronnie and half-whispered, "Sorry, Ronnie, I have to go! Phone call!" He backed off the steps looking bewildered, and kind of threw up his hands as if to say "fine, be that way" and I shut the front door.
A few days later I pulled into my driveway after work and there was Ronnie, standing in his own driveway. When he saw me, he quickly bent over and analyzed some shoots of grass then back up at me. I slooooooowly gathered my belonging and purse together and took my time thinking he would hopefully be gone by the time I exited the car. NO such luck. There he stood, facing me, waiting for eye contact. He waved.
"Hi Ronnie." I said, resigned to the fact that I had to acknowledge him.
Yes, I have a crazy-drunk-neighbor who has the hots for me. He creeps the bejesus out of me. Maybe I should starting picking my nose when I see him? Or scratch my ass? Do you think that would be a turn-off?????? *SIGH*