Sunday, September 27, 2009

Patrick & Mikki's Trashy Neighbor

For the longest time I have always thought the family that lives across the street from me were trashy.

According to local neighborhood gossip, for one, both husband and wife were drug addicts. Matter of fact, they met in a rehab center. Secondly, to supplement her drug habit, the wife used to be a prostitute. Last but not the least, the wife would have screaming matches with her one of her teenage daughters so loud that police were often needed to intervene.

That is nothing compared to my friend Patrick and Mikki's neighbor in Kent, WA. When I was visiting them in first week of August, I did not have an opportunity to fully appreciate just how trashy their neighbors were, so Patrick has forward me the following photo essay.


So I have these special neighbors, and I try to explain their trashiness to friends and family on occasion but I just never feel like I am doing justice to the reality of their horribleness.

It all began when Mikki and I were looking at this house to rent. Wonderful house, wonderful cul-de-sac, wonderful landlord. On my first meeting with the landlord she mentioned that she didn't really know the people across the street on the non cul-de-sac side of things but she thought the woman was pregnant. Yay for us, a pregnant neighbor... Visions of built in grounds for association, shared babysitting, baby socializing, etc filled my head.

Then I met the neighbor woman; 8 months pregnant, ~35 years old with the look of a 55+ year old, barefoot in torn up booty shorts and a neon orange bikini top 2 sizes too large allowing 90+% of one boob to sag threateningly out the side, chain smoking cigarettes on her front lawn, sporting very impressive looking bilateral needle track scars from wrist to elbow and screaming bloody murder at someone inside the house. The gist of the argument was lost to the strings of haplessly combined profanity without actual content.

Later on at our house warming party we met her neighbor from the other side who asked in that "polite but fishing for true feelings" manner "have you met this family yet?" According to this neighbor (yes, hearsay) the house is a narcotics trafficking den and the woman in question runs a daytime business in which various streams of gentlemen callers visit the house for 15-60 minutes or so on a regular basis while the boyfriend is away at work. This neighbor believes there may be some ambiguous paternity involved.

So much for our hopes of neighborly baby socializing. Now, while the prostitution and drug claims are at that point just unsubstantiated gossip from another neighbor, certain independent confirmations have been forthcoming.....beginning of course with the bikini, smoking, screaming, needle track encounter. That and the several occasions of police officers showing up at their house at random hours and on 2 occasions inquiring of us whether we know anything about the occupants of that house or have seen "anything you'd like to comment on."

So today I am home sick from work with a cold Mikki was generous enough to give to both Jonathan and I this week, and our landlord just finished putting a waterproof sealant on our back yard fence after having done our beautiful deck yesterday. I decided to go outside and have a look at our newly sealed deck. Lo and behold our lovely neighbor woman is sitting in one of her fashionable ensembles on her front lawn underneath the mailbox with a lap full of mail and a mouth full of the glass pipe she is frantically sucking on and blowing large billowing clouds of pretty white smoke from. Now I did not ask her what was in this pipe but I am not putting my money on anything aromatherapy related.

At this point I ran into the house to get my camera and long lens, as I am sorely disappointed that I did not begin chronicling this walking tragedy during the chain smoking while pregnant phase of things. Alas by the time I returned the pipe had been retired from sight and did not make another appearance. The new activity was the opening a various envelopes each followed by alternating sobbing or muttered statements of "motherfucker, where is it." Meaning to be apparent forthcomingly. Having missed out on my intended photographic goal I was forced to settle for what I could get and I must admit, the photo I took does not perfectly capture the vacant glassy eyed expression, open mouthed drooling or full body trembling. I was also forced to put down the camera at this time and take up a less conspicuous presence on my deck due to the following interaction which began immediately after getting my representative photo.

In this story I will refer to the neighbor woman in question as "Crystal", her baby-daddy as "Cletus" and the fleeing gentleman caller in head to toe gangster style attire as "John". These monikers strike me as fitting plus I can't think of any friends I will offend by using their names and I have not actually bothered to learn the real names of my neighbors anyways.

Front door slams open

"Fuck this shit! I'm fucking out, I don't gotta take this fucking bullshit!" Exclaims John with exaggerated gesturing, stomping across the lawn and peeling out in his Cadillac with bumper sticker "Gangster fo Life"

Patrick quickly places camera on deck and retreats to observe from position of cover.

Cletus comes storming across lawn towards a now slightly less blurry eyed looking Crystal.

"Fuck you you fucking whore" Cletus squeals with glee, "Just because he fucking pays fo some of yo skanky ass fuckin pussy don't mean he gets to fuckin hang around all fucking day eating our fucking food and watching our fuckinig tv you nasty ass skank, why the fuck do you think I didn't even bother bringing the fucking groceries in from the car least now we can eat our own fucking food."

"Fuck you, you fat ugly fuck. At least I make any money you worthless fat fucking loser." Retorts Crystal. "Where's the fucking unemployment check you worthless piece of shit? This is the second fucking week your broke ass hasn't gotten a fucking dime."

"You're fucking one to talk you fucking skanky ass crack didn't get any fucking money today either because you just always let that piece of shit pay for it with ice." John remarks.

Crystal makes some deep guttural noises and retires to the house taking time to kick the car, punch Cletus and pull her sagging shorts back up over the top of her even more sagging buttocks.

Cletus makes several more remarks regarding whore, bitch, cunt, skank, hoochie, used up trash bag and then proceeds to the trunk of the car.

"That's fine," he calls to the now shut front door, "I'll just bring all the fucking food in all by myself but I'll be fucked if you're eating any of it. Maybe HE can fucking come by later with a hamburger for you next time he's got a fucking hard on."

At this point the coast is clear again for me to sneak up the camera and get a couple photos of Cletus for good measure and equal coverage.

So my birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks......would anyone like to buy me a nice camo wildlife photographic blind as a present. It will be well used. Perhaps I can keep a running blog on this and someday option the story as a movie script. I am kind of wondering at what point I have enough to perhaps make a call to Children's Services or the like. I really wish I had gotten that photo of her smoking the pipe.

Presented below are the unfortunately few photographs I was able to obtain without risk of being further involved in this little scenario that I would otherwise have enjoyed.

1) Crystal having freshly retired the "ice pipe" sobs audibly while searching for the golden unemployment check.

2) Maybe what you seek is in the mail cleverly hiding from you in the box.....

3) Following the, unfortunately photographically undocumented, interactions between Crystal, John, and Cletus Cletus empties the trunk of precious groceries in preparation of rejoining his honey-bunny within the residence.

4) Cletus makes his farewell and I acknowledge thanks for the opportunity to be sick today and bear witness to such glory.


Correction......per the officer I just spoke with, Cletus is actually the woman's 18 YEAR OLD SON (I never can keep all the relationships over there straight). Also per the officer his father was one of her former "John's" and still lives there on occasion. I think that "John" from this story is perhaps the John-father of her new baby as she left with him on foot with him carrying the baby following Altercation Part II.

So while writing the first part of this note and submitting it, John showed up again. Crystal came out of the house and handed him the baby, then proceeding to call someone to scream obscenities without much discernible meaning while John held the infant. Cletus (now identified as Crystal's 18 year old son) exited the house again and screamed at her to get the fuck back in the house and shut the fuck up, but not before kicking John the fuck off their goddamn porch. To appreciate the true richness of the quality of humanity expressed here it is necessary to go back and re-read part one and now part 2, having been given the knowledge that Crystal is Cletus' mother and Celtus is Crystal's son.

Crystal - "Fuck you you fucking lowlife" and gets up to storm off.
Cletus - "where the fuck do you think you are going with the fucking baby you whore?" gets up to block her path at this point in the neighbors driveway.

John I have to say did a very good job of just standing quietly out of the way holding the baby. In this entire interaction I cannot specifically fault John for anything aside from his terribly poor choice of company.

Crystal to Cletus: "you better get the fuck out of my fucking way or I will fucking break you."

At this point dialogue ceases. Cletus steps in Crystal's way. Crystal punches Cletus (her son) in the face. Cletus grabs Crystal's (his mother's) wrists to hold her punches at bay. Crystal kicks Cletus....again....son.....
squarely in the crotch. Cletus throws Crystal to the pavement and stands on her hair. Crystal wrenches out of the hair hold and exits stage right with John following. John dutifully stood aside to observe the above interactions and act as baby-holder.

On the one hand, they are doing all of this in front of the 2 month old baby. On the other hand the baby is probably so incredibly drug damaged at birth that it will never fully comprehend the family it was born into. Either way I don't really see any silver lining to this shit stain on the breadth of human potential.

I have shared the photos I was able to take with the responding officer. He thanks me for the photos and will mention them in his report but since I did not photograph the actual drug use or physical harm being caused to the child he cannot make arrests from my contribution. Both mother and son deny any physical altercation and without one of them making a claim of domestic abuse he does not have that legal mandate or right to make arrests. This is his 3rd time visiting them this month he reports. He is tired of coming. He suggests that if I can obtain a photo of mom holding the baby while smoking crack, or some such other evidence he would be absolutely elated to come with "a bus and put every last occupant of that house on it."

And now for your continued entertainment.....

5) John, having returned from his brief sojourn, exits the house with baby......screams of impending excitement are heard emanating from within the lair.

6) Crystal begins her phone squeals in excitement.


8) But John I'm not sure I WANT to sell my baby for an ounce of blow!!!!

9) But momma....I done told you this is the neighbor's driveway and the neighbor's Plymouth.....we aint supposed to fist fight here no more.

10) whateva boy.....I do what I wants!!!

But momma you knows how it embarrasses me so when you makes my butt crack hang all out.

11) Peekaboo baby!!!!!! Where's your mommy. Peekaboo.......MOMMY FUCKING SEES YOU BITCH!!!!!!!! And as soon as your brother lets go Mommy's gonna FUCKING CUT YOU.