I think it all started the week I moved in. I parked my U-haul out in front of both of our houses and she comes running out. “You can’t park there, it’s my spot!” Which is fine, I turn to her and ask her if I should move. I explain that the truck will only be parked for about twenty minutes and I’ll be out of your way. She tells me its ok, only because she likes my roommate Paul. “Paul’s a good boy”.
The next incident is a little more off the wall. A few of the pickets on her white fence are old and deteriorated. I head home one day to find her picking at them, staring, musing over it. When she sees me she points out that my landlord has destroyed her fence.
“He did it, I know he did”, speaking to me as if I even cared. “He doesn’t want to mess with me; I’ll phone the city counsel and take him down”.
“Yeah, you do that”, I respond and walk by, as she is still talking to me. It was a long day and I’m starting to see what type of person she is.
Before Ryan – also known as dirty, straight dude - moved out, he was changing in one of the bedrooms. The blinds were taken down because of the move, and half of the window is frosted glass. I awake about eight thirty in the morning to overhear the conversation.
“I can see it”, in a high pitched, German accent. "I can see you naked".
“Oh, Hi Mary,” Ryan replies. He just got out of the shower and was removing his towel only to find Mary staring right at him. The conversation pursues but I am now thinking forward in time to the next night. It’s eleven or twelve at night, my curtain isn’t put up yet, and Mary is flicking lights on and off, waving to me, through her window. I am shirtless and couldn’t give two fucks.
“Paul, this bitch is crazy”, I tell him over dinner one night. “She is spying on me through her windows late at night”. Its absolute insane and he acknowledges this.
Yesterday, the icing on the cake, there is a great deal of rain in Victoria. Our backyard is starting to collect a lot of water and the landlord comes in with a sub-pump. While I’m at work Paul logs in to tell me that Mary is going crazy. She is yelling at our landlord Cam and is causing a lot of trouble. This is about nine in the morning…
I arrive home at five to find Mary still yelling. She is screaming at cam, her shrill voice is yelling “I don’t care, get off my property!” Cam himself is defending himself and telling her that it’s not her property; he is on his own piece of land.
I head into the house only to hear her screaming, with broom in hand, for another twenty minutes until the pump is shut off. “Get off my land!” “Get off my property!” “This is not your land, get off”.
“You’re nuts Mary,” Cam replies. “You need help,” as he fends off her attacks. He’s a part of the city working core, he’s here to stop the flooding. He is a kind, sexy, football player looking kind of dude.
“I’m not nuts, you’re nuts. You get off my land”, Mary screams. Her voice is echoing the neighborhood, and at this point in time, I want to gas her and bury her in my backyard.
Cam knocks on my door to apologize. He explains that he has to phone the police because a) Mary took a swing at him and made contact and b) she pushed his father, who is in his sixties.
The whole time I am shocked and can still here Mary in the background. Mary makes me realize that this isn't the East Coast anymore. Crazy East Coast ladies would take up all your time in conversation and follow you around the yard; I'm thinking so much for neighborly love.
The funny thing is, water is running into her property also, but she doesn’t care. Cam tells me she blames the house for the death of her husband; the house is blamed for everything that had done her wrong in her life. She wants to burn it to the ground, my friend Paul tells me. I’m thinking I need insurance.
This morning I hear Mary talking to my downstairs neighbor. “You should apologize for what you put me through”, in her now insane, annoying, calculated, and dreadful German accent.
“Mary, I live here too,” she relies. She actually sounds human today, sporting a spine and the courage of her convictions.
“I live here!, Mary replies sharply. “I live here too…”
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6 comments:
maybe she has alzheimer's....
No she is a senile, German bitch.
that was the other thing I was going to say...
In my professional medical opinion, coming from a family of cheap, crazy Brits: she is definately senile.
That being said, I laughed while reading this post, but I can also feel your pain. You have to admit, its damn funny to read about though.
Some Germans still can't get over the fact they lost the War.
Haha...that's a harsh statement. Oh my. I hope that's not the issue!
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