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"Misty's Violent Crime"

I was shocked when Misty told me what she had done, 
I said, “You're KIDDING!” 
She wasn't 

Here’s how it started: 
The couple we liked moved to Oregon, 
and a real idiot took their place in the house next door. 

We tried to be friendly, 
but when we’d look at this guy or his wife, 
they’d look away, 
avoiding eye contact. 

They ignored our presence 
but they seemed to know who we were. 
I know that because 
when he took his big German Shepherd out, 
we heard him tell the dog: 
“Go over in Misty’s yard and do it”. 

I’m pretty sure he suspected that we’d called the cops 
when he was beating his wife. 
We had. 
He was a sweetheart. 

He had two cars and a two-car garage. 
He needed two cars 
because he’d wreck one every weekend. 
The other was a spare. 

Once, when he came home drunk 
he ran into the center post between the garage stalls 
and knocked it down. 

For an encore 
he came home stewed 
and smashed into his spare car. 

Meanwhile, 
our property was filling up with German Shepherd doo-doo. 

A cruel friend said this to me: 
“It’s good luck to step in it.” 
Somehow I didn’t feel lucky. 

Misty apparently had had enough of this guy. 
She took a trowel out to the yard, 
picked up each pile, one by one, 
and carefully threw them at the side of the jerk’s house. 
She took particular aim at the screened windows. 
This time HE called the law. 

The policeman came to our door 
and asked us if we had done the dirty deed. 
Instead of denying it, 
Misty said: 
“I was just returning his own property.” 
I cringed. 
She was proud of it. 

The cop said, “That’s against the law.” 
and tried not to smile. 
Nobody went to jail. 

In a way we won 
and in a way we didn’t. 
The moron never cleaned the side of his house, 
and, of course, 
it was the side facing us. 

© July 10, 2003 Jack Blanchard. All rights reserved. 

 

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