goons...

I live in an apartment that takes up the second and third floors of a house. Our neighbors live on the first floor. They seem like nice enough guys whenever I've talked to them but they aren't the type I'd ever really hang out with. We have had absolutely no problems with them what-so-ever. Tonight they had a party and were kind of on the "loud" side. No big deal, it's a Friday night. This is the first time I can remember them ever having a party and we've had two or three that have been pretty noisy. I left to get food around 9:30 or so and when I got back about half an hour later there's a brand new Ford Mustang parked in the driveway behind my roommate's car. I park behind the Ford Mustang. It doesn't belong to any of the neighbors and I feel more entitled to park in my own driveway that this guy. Whatever. I know I'll have to move it later in the night or early tomorrow morning. My driveway, right? I go about my night and have an absolute blast doing so. About fifteen minutes ago there's a ring of the ol' doorbell. I ignore it. About fourteen minutes ago there's a continued frantic ring of the doorbell as well as an absolute pounding of our front door. I concede to the demands of this goon guest and get my shoes and pants back on. I took them off because it's my goddamn free time and I will choose to do with it whatever I damn well please thank you very much. When I get downstairs I am greeted with an open door to their apartment. A living room full of drunk folks that do not live here are looking at me blankly. I feel I deserve more than this seeing as how someone just treated my door the way Ike Turner treated his wife Tina. I give the collective goon squad a "what the fuck?" look. Eventually one of them says "Are you that CR-V in the driveway?" I then nod and get "You're going to have to move" to which I go outside without saying anything. This is the fate I chose when deciding to park in my own driveway behind a guest vehicle. While in my car, I back out of our difficult to navigate driveway and into the driveway located directly across the street from ours to wait for the owner of this modern day muscle car to move his so I may regain my position in the driveway. Notice I have not made mention of my neighbors, their parking habits or the rough estimate of the Ford Mustang owner's phallus. A lesser man would easily try and insult all of those things but I am above that. All of those things are fine in my book. If the neighbors want to park in the driveway that's fine. I know nothing of the man driving this new silver Ford Mustang other than he was sort of rude at getting my attention after 2am. Anyway, while turning his way out of the driveway he scraped the front of his car on a concrete wall, while I sat and stared at him. He had to play it off like nothing happened even though he now needs a new undercarriage or front bumper. Quite the glorious payoff to a scenario like this. Even Ike Turner would agree and that guy is currently writing catchy soul songs inside of Satan's ass crack right now. An audience of one is a fine attendance indeed. And this my friend, is why you* can't have nice things.

*Owner of aforementioned Ford Mustang