Over the last week, people have been looking at the house behind me. It’s been foreclosed on for a few months and hasn’t moved yet. I keep hoping that someone forgets to lock the back door so I can be a do-it-yourself-Realtor and show myself around.
After all, I want to see what made the white trash deadbeat guys, who used to live there, tick. Before they were evicted, and they took the electric meter with them, I noticed some of their hobbies. They included: not mowing the lawn, leaving their basset hound tied to a tree for hours, beating their dog, and also selling drugs. I didn’t find out until they were gone that I once had a swat team in my backyard to do the raid.
It took a drunk Greg to tell me that they were also making drugs. I thought it was your friendly neighborhood pot dealer house, but I guess it was also a meth house – literally in my backyard. I’m kind of upset that the meth house never exploded like you hear about on TV. They just don’t make meth houses like they used to…
Despite the former drug house, I still live in a safe and nice neighborhood with lots of kids and a relatively stable housing market, but I think a meth house explosion would have made things a lot more exciting.
SATURDAY SATURDAY SATURDAY! We are blowing the roof off housing costs! RED HOT Deals in the subdivision! We’ll sell you the whole house, but you’ll only get the foundation!!! SATURDAY SATURDAY SS-SS-SS-SATURDAY!
Maybe next time.
I hope somebody buys that house soon. I told Allie that if nobody buys it before the end of the year, I am going to raze it, pour a helipad, and learn to fly a helicopter.
It would be a shame to have to make true on the promise. I don’t think you’re allowed to put guns on private helicopters.