NEIGHBORS FROM HELL.  PART ONE.

Several years ago, my small family lived at a delightful cul-de-sac in a housing development with what I felt was a dumb name: Imperial Gardens. It was a nice place but not The Tuileries. 

My kids loved living close to many other young children and all of the neighbors were interesting characters.  All were thoughtful, smart folks except for the Smedlap family.

(This is a true story.  I have changed the names.)

The Smedlap family consisted of Bob and Cleo, and their two children, Harry, aged twenty-five and Luann, aged seventeen.

Let me start with three vignettes concerning the two Smedlap children.

THE KEY TO ALL

One Tuesday, I had stayed home from work with a slight touch of the flu.  It was early in the afternoon and the kids were in school and their mother was out shopping.

I had laid on my bed to try to get some nap-time.  I fell asleep and was awakened by a feeling that someone was watching me.  I opened my eyes and found Harry Smedlap hovering over me.  He saw that I was awake and said, "Hi, Mr. Vaughan, how are you?"

I knew that Harry was operating "four deuces away from a full deck," so I forced myself from killing him.  Instead, I grabbed him by the throat, and remembering that I had locked the front door, said. "How the hell did you get in?"

Harry said, "I used my key" and showed it to me.

After some investigation, it was learned that the locks on all sixty homes in the development were exactly the same, and used duplicate keys.  I guess that people with criminal minds (except for Harry) had not yet figured that out.

Harry's stupid incursion into our house may have  accomplished two things. One - Harry had been caught in the act and this may have kept him from considering a life of crime.  Two - we learned that the development had been "ripped off" when it came to house locks and restitution was extracted from the provider ... after he swiftly changed everyone's locks.  

THE BEETLE SCOOTS

(I didn't know about this until my daughter Diane mentioned it yesterday.)

Somehow, Harry finagled a driver's license and bought himself a beat-up Volkswagen Beetle.  He loved to drive fast into our cul-de-sac and frighten the little kids, and then laugh like a fox as they scattered.  These kids did not like this, so they plotted revenge.

Somehow they figured out that the emergency break did not work in the Beetle and they made a plan.

Each afternoon when Harry came home to spend his evening watching cartoons on TV, he would park his car on the street in front of his house.

A little while later the precocious conspirators got together and with the aid of tricycles, wagons and foot-mobile, would push Harry's car across the street from where he had parked it.  Harry never figured out how that happened.  The kids all laughed to see him scratch his head in puzzlement.   

PARTY TIME AT THE VAUGHAN'S. COME ON OVER

 One Summer, my family and I went on a three day vacation to Virginia.  We left on a Friday morning and came back home early on Sunday.

As we approached our home, we heard loud rock music and saw teen-agers dancing on the patch of lawn in the front of the house.  Tables and benches were in view as a hose sprayed everything with a cool mist. A nice party, but why was it taking place at our house?

I confronted the hose sprayer, who just happened to be Luann Smedlap from next door.  She nonchalantly explained that they needed some room for her party and her house did not have the space.

Wasn't this a good example of chutzpah?

I pulled everything down and threw it into the street and made the partygoers who had not escaped, clean up.  My lawn was filled with ruts and mud was everywhere.  My blood pressure was sky-high, but we survived this additional assault by one of the "neighbors from hell."

................................................................................