� The shacks � 2005-10-02 � 3:57 p.m. �
The drama of the crackshacks in our parking lot never ends....
At 3:45 this morning I woke up to some bastard with the bass in his truck so loud my bed shook. I got up to see if he lived here or not, and to see if he was in food throwing distance of my balcony... Neither, unfortunately, but when I was at my window I watched him get out of his redneck noise machine walk up to door 105... knock on the window (I don't know why he didn't knock on the door) and then, unsatisfied with no one answering, kicked the door open and walk in... turned on the light, walked around for a second or two, and walked out empty handed.... he went to his truck... drove off... and came back 30 seconds later... to do nothing but stand outside the same door for a moment. He got back in his truck, and didn't return.
I chalked it up to his being drunk... or so I thought... since he wasn't walking with all his wit about him.. and driving even worse.
Well a few moments ago he returned to 105... and again, kicked the door open... I guess he found what he was looking for this time. A man MUCH larger than he is came pounding out after him. Hair and clothes flying, they wrestled and punched and kicked... and stomped... Mr. Doorkicker got his ass kicked down a flight of stairs to the cement walkway... and when he stood it was clear he had is left arm taped to his ribs... around his body probably three times... holding him together no doubt.
Maybe he wasn't drunk... maybe Mr. Big broke his ribs last night?
He stumbled back to his truck... and waiting for him was a small boy.
Disgusting. Disgusting that that is what I man will teach his son.
I was standing on my balcony watching this... well mostly it's the journalist in me... but since it was his second time back, and I already hate the bastard from earlier this morning I was gearing to call the cops. I didn't, because I just don't care THAT much.
Ten minutes later I can hear the thud of that dumb fucker's truck again... Why would a he willingly come back? He must really like it when Mr. Big kicks him in the back of the head....
This time, he's childless... but brought with him his much larger, much meaner looking friend.... Better protection than a boy sucking his thumb at least... and they get out... walk to the door... only to decide when Mr. Big comes walking their way, they'd both be safer at ground level... and high tail it down the stairs by their own means... They walk to the front of the building and even from my living room I can hear the hiss of grown men brawling... and the cries of the girl who wished she hadn't stopped by.
I get up to make sure no one is dead... or seriously hurt... and I watch Mr. Doorkicker and his idiot friend get back into the truck... spin their tires around our parking lot... and nearly run Mr. Big down. Smart on their part... they swirved before they did.
The door is still kicked wide open, but everyone's left. Mr. Big told the girl she had to leave, that she wasn't safe sticking around... and she begged him to leave too...
He did.
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