Unsettled!

What an unsettling morning! I woke to the sound of two shirtless drunks wandering the street yelling at everything. “Bitch,” the one yelled. “Whore, slut,” the other added. I could only imagine what took place to invoke the comments. Both were nearly naked wearing what appeared to be their boxers. The one man was limping severely as he passed my house, walking in the middle of the street to avoid our motion detecting porch light. It didn’t work the light popped on and blinded him provoking another string of colorful expletives. My mind drifted as he passed to imagine what might have transpired prior that left these two dolts in their underwear. I thought maybe they were engaged in a three way when she, “the whore” realized she was with these two losers and got the hell out of there. They quickly slid into their boxes and followed like turkeys chasing their hen.



In reality the two idiots probably fell off the back of her car. When I got out of bed I noticed a Toyota Corolla sitting two houses down with it’s four-way-flashers amber-ing up the neighborhood. I recognized the car since it’s always hogging up the street instead of parking in one of the fifteen empty spaces along the curb. A pretty young blonde drives it. A girl too cutie for these two fools. They enjoy jumping on the back of her car as she drives way. Usually she stops and gets all concerned as most women would. Apparently, at three-thirty in the morning she’s not that worried and took off leaving the idiots rolling on the road.

I let my dog out the back door as usual. It’s too annoying to fix my lunch and pour cereal with her pooch snozzle sniffing everything. My wife ran into the kitchen, “Is she loose?” she asked. “Who?” “Pooch,” she replied obviously still half asleep. “No, there are two drunks outside yelling.” “Oh,” she replied. “I thought that was you yelling. They must have lost their dog.” At that time in the morning all common sense disappears. “No one lost their dog, they’re just drunk and yelling,” I replied. Something I’m all too familiar with since my father has been an alcoholic as long as I’ve been alive. From what I’ve gathered, it seems his drinking came around the time I did.



Three a.m. is when the full-time drinkers get home from last call. When I lived at home it was about that time dad would announce his arrival home by slamming the car into the side of the house, the garage, a car, or any combination of the three.



Often he’d fix himself some lunch and off he’d go to work – he was a truck driver for nearly twenty years.





It took about fifteen minutes for the two drunks in front of my house to settle down but not before bitching out everything around them. At one point I heard them bitching about the darkness. At that time I would have loved to stay in bed to enjoy it! Who invented work anyway!