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Short Stories by: Anthony Davis
last edited on Monday, July 18, 2005, 1:07 AM, CDST

My Neighborhood

The old neighborhood is no more.  Nothing's the same.  New people,  new cars, 
new children and new dogs.  Gunshots go off almost every weekend night.
Nobody speaks English anymore.  It's all changed! The godam idiots are shooting all the birds in the trees dead.  They don't have any common sense.  The fuckin police don't do anything for ya.  You can call them and complain and all they say is a bb gun is not considered a fire arm.  It's pretty dam powerful when it's powered with a CO2 cartridge I say. 

The fuckin neighborhood has gone down hill I tell ya!

The only people you see walking down the street are destitute druggies!  That guy,  what the hell is his name,  Tommy? He openly admits to be a crack addict!

It's like this.  I can take my camera and film those bastards shooting them bb guns and then the police might be able to do something.  I can't seem to ever catch them in the act.
The stupid cable wire all over the kitchen and dining room floor just won't work. 

The thing I want to do is have everyone investigated.  Have everyone in this entire city checked out for illegal guns and drugs and all.  The police would find all kinds of shit if they were allowed to declare open season on the neighborhoods.

Of course I got nothing to hide.  But ya know,  come to think of it,  I don't relish the idea of having them beat down our front door and have free reign of our possessions.  It's an impossible thing to think about.  The drugs and the guns and the dopers.  These people just hang around and keep on breaking the law and the police only happen to appear after it's too damned late!

You understand why I feel so frustrated?
Yes Anthony,  but maybe you just need to relax and take one of your Lithiums.  Have you taken your medicine yet this morning?  Yea.  I've already taken my medicine for today, but that ain't gonna change the fact that I'm good and angry at the neighborhood going down hill and all the things we grew up with,  all the stores and all the people,  just plain gone forever!  I just wanna see some kind of changes for the better that's all,  not all these changes for the worst.  It's not possible to just set out in the yard and drink lemon aid and play my rock and roll music when a possible drive by shooter might take a pot shot at me.

You know.  What the hell.  I guess I better get on line and fuckin download a thousand fuckin Junk emails.  All I do is download fuckin junk emails ya know what I'm saying?

Yes I do Anthony.  I really do. 

The frustration in Anthony ran deep.  The neighborhood was full of change.  You could cut it with a knife.  Anthony was not so much mentally ill as living in a world that was mentally ill or physically ill or morally ill.  Yep.  Life for Anthony was pretty much like a bad sci fi movie but with all the KIA commercials and the intellectual weather reports that takes a person with a 160 IQ to appreciate.

Sleep,  wake up the next day,  eat,  shit,  piss and then go to bed and do it all over again day in day out while the fucking planet grows one more degree hotter than it was a decade or even half a decade before.

Keep thinking positive thoughts.  Fuck that shit.  The world is going to hell and I'm sinking in the freaking titanic and nobody seems to be concerned.  Yet  if  we were in a third world country we wouldn't have AC nor FM nor TiVo for that matter.  The internet still sucks.

The television was on as it usually is.  Anthony spent a little time away gathering his sanity.
A bit of Joe Satriani,  flying in a blue dream,  a sip on some Millstone coffee and spend about 40 minutes just downloading junk emails.  It's all just a test,  Anthony figured.
Yep.  This whole thing called my life is a test from a higher power,  and the world is just God's proving ground.  He thought about the stories told about the Philadelphia Project ,  aka Project Invisibility  and thought about how long it took to get the Space Shuttle Discovery launched after over a year since the Columbia disaster in the shadow of the Challenger disaster.  If Nasa can't even get a shuttle off the ground what hope is there for colonizing Mars?

One of his neighbors years ago had large drums of Type 6 explosives.  The garage had been lined wall to wall with aluminum foil.  A man driving a Mercedes Benz came by once and a while to visit our neighbor.  He was a night owl.  Always working at night.  Then as if out of the blue he takes his belongings and leaves.  The canisters had been removed from his garage.  Of course Anthony wasn't supposed to see those canisters.  But that man was mean.  He often beat his German Sheppard dog with a chain and just abused the hell out of him.  Anthony and his wife were simply glad to see him leave.  This was before 9/11.  Many years before then. 

His new neighbors always have at least 5 cars on the property at least 5 days a week and they often take large igloo ice chests in and out of the house and often have cars towed away from the property late at night.  It seemed obvious to Anthony they were dealing in car parts but he wondered if they might very well be from stolen cars!

Anthony entertained the notion when a  sign painter came by the house asking if they wanted to let them paint their house numbers on the curbs for ten dollars and Anthony thought it would be more appropriate for people to go door to door asking for money to paint graffiti on their wooden fences and backs of their garages next to the alleys.  Its as absurd a notion as any other,  Anthony thought as he laughed a bit to the folly of this ridiculous idea.

The door bell rang.  Anthony pressed the talk button and asked who it was, but he already knew.  He had a door camera.  It was Wesky.  "Hey Anthony,  what you doing? I brought a movie over I think you and Selga would like to watch."

"Come on in Wes."  Wesky added,  "I brought over some Orville Reddenbocker."
"Cool,  replied Anthony.

The name of the movie was The Third Planet.  It was a Science Fiction Thriller.  It was about an alternate solar system's third planet,  about twice the diameter of our Earth and it had a civilization of humans like us who were about a thousand years ahead of us technologically and they discovered our existence from Voyager and that they were planning sending 9 astronauts to Earth.  The scenario is like this: The planet had begun to go into it's ice age and many of the plants,  animals and humans were dying from starvation and freezing temperatures.  They wanted to come to Earth,  using gravity,  bring our Earth back to orbit along the same orbital plane as their world so they could save billions of lives by transporting them from their Earth to our Earth,  then bring our Earth back to it's original position but only a slightly closer distance so as to prevent our own ice age from happening for tens of thousands of more years. This story was way out in deep space.  But for the popcorn and ice tea and ham sandwiches Anthony managed to enjoy himself.

After the visit Wesky told them good-bye and said he'd be back in a few days.
Selga thought,  hmm now I have more cooking to prepare for.  Oh well.  maybe I can make a pot of hamburger soup and potatoes and some corn bread.  Yea,  that'll work.  Nothing too fancy and something I know they already like to eat and nothing will get wasted.

The egg plant Parmesan tasted okay but last week Wesky didn't finnish his plate and that was not a good thing.  Well,  Anthony's brother TC the tool cribber ate all of his and Anthony tried to eat most of his but Anthony didn't really favor egg plant even when he was a child.

"Hey Selga,  you wanna go up the street to the dollar mart and just look around a while just to get out of the house?"  Selga said it was okay with her and in fifteen minutes they were out of the house and playing musical parking lot.  Finally an opening near the store entrance and they got out and headed to the dollar $mart.  It had been burned down a year ago and had only recently reopened.  Nobody knew just what caused the fire but on one of the windows covered by plywood said in spray paint,  'Next time use Dynamite!'
Can you imagine that?  That sounds like a sick joke or some kind of threat by a hate group.  You see the dollar mart is ran by middle easterners.  They were nice people but during these times there is a lot of hatred on both sides of the fence and I'm not on either side.  I just hate bad people,  no matter what fucking race they are!


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Short Stories by: Anthony Davis

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