Cast of characters:
My dad – my dad
Shakira – my mom
unnamed drunk woman – crazy biyotch
Valerie – Shakira’s friend, wife of Bill, former inhabitant of neighbor’s house
Bill – husband of Valerie, decent citizen, not a cheater
me – who’s that girl? It’s me!
The following is as described to me by my mother and father. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
A few days ago, as my mother was snuggled in her library room and my father was downstairs falling asleep on the couch watching the World Series, there was a sudden bang on the door. We’re not a particularly social family, so my dad figured it had to be my sister visiting at such an hour, and therefore, hurried to the door to let her in. It was not my sister.
In fact, it was a highly intoxicated neighbor. Again, my family isn’t particularly social so we had never met this neighbor before. Once upon a time, we had been social and even had close friends in the ‘hood. This drunk woman happened to live in a house that was once inhabited by one of these close friends.
“I need to talk to your wife,” she told my father. It was ten at night, she was drunk, so my father politely said no. Over and over. “Tell your wife,” the woman hissed loudly to my father, “to keep out of my business!”
I’d like to take this moment to add that my mother has just finished a year of cancer treatments. If she has the energy to gossip about others, that’s news to me, especially since she never got involved in that idiocy when she did have the energy.
“She called Valerie and told her that her husband drove me home!” this woman shouted. “It’s none of her [insert expletive] business! Let me talk to her!” Valerie and her husband being friends of my parents’ and the former owners of the home. This woman also knew my mother’s name – Shakira. So that’s creepy.
Again, my father refused, and while the woman put her foot in the door to keep my father from putting an end to her crazy, he was able to shut the door, lock it and immediately ask my mother, “What the hell have you been up to?” to get to the bottom of such a ridiculous accusation. Naturally, my mother had no idea who this woman was, no idea what she was talking about and logically went to bed wondering if she would be murdered in her sleep.
We figured that the husband, Bill, had seen this wasted woman at a bar and offered her a ride home because it’s the right thing to do. As he drove her home and realized she lived in his old house, he joked with her, “Hope the Sands family doesn’t see me! Shakira is friends with my wife!” And being the sloppy drunk she was, this woman misconstrued the joke and took it seriously.
Now let’s find out how this would have gone down if I had been home at the time:
Bang at the door. Mom’s upstairs. Dad’s asleep. I’m afraid of strangers, so I stay frozen on the couch. Dad gets up. I hear yelling and furrow my brow. I sit up to see who this raging biyotch is. Her hair is crazy insane and she’s carrying a 30-30 rifle. Dad refuses to get my mom. She fires a single shot in the air.
I must get involved.
I stand up and walk towards the door. “Is there a problem?” I ask. Woman screams something obscene and nonsensical. I nod as if I understand what the hell she’s saying when really I’m trying to hear the tv announcers talk about the baseball game.
“Mom’s tired,” I explain. “Chemo really takes it out of her, you understand.” Yeah, her chemo was a year ago, but this chick doesn’t know that.
“GIMME YER MOM AND ALL YER MONEY!” she screams and shoots another round in the air.
Dad’s not even in the story anymore, he’s making himself a sandwich or something.
“Listen, lady,” because somehow, when you say lady like you’re italicizing it, it sounds super intimidating, “you ain’t seein’ my mom, you ain’t talkin’ to her any time soon, and if you don’t get awf mah property, the only person you’s gonna be seein’ soon is St. Peter, you got dat?” It’s important that I lose all sense of English. No one takes me seriously otherwise, I’m too dainty.
“WUTCHOO SAY?” There is fire in her eyes but I do not back down because I have seen a full six minutes of Two and Half Men, I have stared evil in the eye.
“I SAID–” and this is when I pause to rip off my shirt and expose my HelloGiggles superhero costume “–MOVE IT OR LOSE IT.”
And you know what? She decides to move it. She decides to move it very much.
She drops the 30-30 on the ground. I pick it up and shoot a victory shot into the air because I AM RON SWANSON and I am a champion.
Woman moves out of the neighborhood next day. The world is again at peace.
Or maybe I would have just pretended to get on the phone with the cops, but seriously, which is more believable?