My Sh Crappy Neighbors

I may have mentioned in passing what a disrespectful shbleepy bunch my neighbors are.

At the back of me is Mad Joe, The Firework King, who has lived his life cleaving to the tenet "Why communicate with your neighbors when you can just ignore them as they get caught in the fallout?". His specialty for the first five or six years we lived here was waiting until we had gone on vacation, then inflicting damage on our property, usually involving trespass and damaged fences. He also convened parties in which everyone got drunk, let off industrial grade fireworks and made death threats against me and Mrs Stevie (which on one occasion were overheard by off-duty police people who were having a quiet drink with us - much fun).

To the side of us are the Singhs, with whom we used to have a cordial relationship but who in the last couple of years have taken to asking Mad Joe's advice on how to interact with us, advice he has gleefully supplied in job lots. More property damage has ensued. The Singhs also have a fleet of automobiles that often get parked on the sidewalks, making leaving my driveway an exercise in making left turns blind.

Today, Mrs Stevie opened the door to go to work, stopped dead, and said "Take a look out of the window".

Outside, resting on my curb, or more likely, the rubble left where my curb used to be, were two perforated concrete cylinders of the type used to fabricate septic tanks.

This opens two possibilities: a) that an honest mistake has been made by a contractor, or 2) one of my neighbors is being a shirthead again.

I know which I'm putting my money on.

I've decided that if they are still there tonight and if no-one has had the decency to leave a note explaining the situation I'm calling the peelers to report a dumping incident.