Strange Sounds = 5 mg Xanax
I was just minding my own business, enjoying some two percent American cheese slices and my new favorite TV show, The World’s Worst Drivers Caught on Tape 3 with Sheriff John Burnell, when, at approximately 2:13 a.m., my lower neighbor returned home from the local bars. His name is Jim, but for the sake of his anonymity, we shall refer to him heretofore as Jimmy. Now, before I continue, let me paint a picture for you of Jimmy.
Jimmy is an extra wide bodybuilder with the kind of booming voice that echoes up wall heaters and sounds like that of a large-balled muskox, if testosterone-fueled muskoxen could talk. He enjoys cooking meat and prefers to do so outside. He enjoys cooking meat so much, that he bought a BBQ and placed it on top of the bushes in our front yard, which is exactly the same size as the BBQ. The BBQ does not work, at least not in the traditional way that one would consider a BBQ to be fully functioning. But Jimmy finds the BBQ to be in perfect condition, as it has never failed to work for him as the spot to pile up his junk mail, and most importantly, serve as a large stand for his George Foreman grill, which he sets on top of the broken, trash strewn BBQ, which is on top of our flattened flowerbed and, which is exactly where he prefers to cook his nightly meat-tastrophies.
Despite his odd cooking habits of copious amounts of animals, he’s a very nice neighbor and is generally quiet, except for when he’s watching sports. And also, when he came home last night/this morning at 2:13.
It was at this particular moment, during a critical juncture in my programming where an off-road vehicle was completing three and a half rolls down a hill and into a cameraman, that I noticed the muskox noises were commingling with what sounded like a castrated pterodactyl.
Now, I was growing quite distracted and annoyed by what was either a very strange and horny female street walker, or a very strange and effeminate horny male street walker proceeding to get to know my neighbor in rapid time. He continued to mate with her/it so loudly that my fine programming was interrupted by their techno-serenaded dry humping.
This is fine, I have no problem with strangers mating, in fact, I generally encourage it; what I have a problem with, is not being able to hear Sheriff Burnell’s fine scripted commentary, which is better even than listening to Geraldo Rivera adlib. I was trying to keep track of how many times this abnormally angry and morbid cop was saying “show offs…,” spitting the words out in disgust like they were coated in motor oil. Also, I was concentrating very hard on my memories of Driver’s Ed. school to figure out if Burnell’s voice is the same one that narrated those horrifying Red Asphalt videos that made us poor fifteen-and-a-half year olds want to give up driving before we even began.
But all of my hard work was destroyed by the distracting and fascinating sounds of the prehistoric petting zoo below my couch. I lost my “show offs” count somewhere around thirty-seven, and could think only that if they didn’t stop attempting to create a little dinosaur baby soon, I was going to have to record them and post my own show here called World’s Loudest Neighbor Spawning Noises Caught on Tape 1 hosted by Anger Shark. Pterodactyl left early this morning and I’m hoping she won’t be back any time soon because my DVR is set to record The World’s Worst Drivers Caught on Tape 2, and I do NOT want to be interrupted during the driverless-car gone wild scene.
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