Several years ago I lived next door to...

Several years ago I lived next door to a man who had six Lincoln Continentals in his front yard. They were all up on blocks, tireless and bumper deep in tumbleweeds. We surmised that he was starting a limo service and the tires were on back order.

(Hope this is what you meant. If not I'll try again.) --s6

Several years ago I lived next to the edge of the world. Rather convenient, if you could stand the endless echoes of the aetheric winds, as we could save on garbage service by just chucking our waste over the brink - which is what my boyfriend was doing when he slipped. I didn't leave when he fell in, though; I left when he came back...

Several years ago I lived next door to the data-centre that generates the Earth-sim. On a tour of the control room I noticed a disarmingly subtle button marked "Random shuffle". It was the work of a moment to select "Politics" from the drop down and click it, but I'm starting to wish that I hadn't.

Several years ago I lived next door to a cereal killer. Every morning we'd hear the screams as he killed more cereal and then threw the bowls in the backyard and every night he'd bring the dried out bowls back inside. We finally bought him a box of breakfast bars to stop the screams because it was giving the neighbourhood a bad name.

A few years ago, I lived next door to a door. The door swallowed up mail carriers, UPS delivery people, and hopeful evangelists, but it only ever disgorged slender young women with damp skin and similar features, always wearing the mail carriers's, delivery people's, and hopeful evangelists's clothes.

I should have been more alarmed, but my medication doesn't really allow for that anymore. And I could have said something to somebody, but the medicine gets in the way of that too. The door used to give me threatening looks, but now it seems to like me just fine and even leaves me wallets to find. Those help a lot with the groceries; everyone needs to eat.

Several years ago, I lived next door to a butterfly collector. He called himself the Red Admiral, which was odd because he was a swallowtail. I asked him what he collected and he said moths. It was their sombreness, apparently, that attracted him.

Several years ago I lived next door to a man named Jehoshaphat and his wife, whose name I didn't know for years. He was quite surprised when I finally fessed up to this, as it turns out they are quite a famous couple. He said "My wife's name is Jump, and surely you've heard of Jump 'n Jehoshaphat?"

Several years ago I lived next door to a woman who used to clean her stove in the back yard. Every few months, she'd have her husband drag the stove out the back door and then she would hose it down with the garden hose. I think she was from another country. --s6

These are great! Every one of them is perfect. I soooo want to live in this neighborhood!



Several years ago I lived next door to an ordinary family of professional snooker players. They travelled the world playing in various tournaments (it's very popular in Bora Bora, by the way) and brought home little metal souvenir spoons from each country. My family was invited to dinner there one day. I stole their Bora Bora spoon and replaced it with a spork. They never noticed.

Several years ago I lived next door to the last sighted tree. Each spring, when its new eyes sprouted, it would peek in my bathroom window and I'd pretend not to notice while I took a long time getting dressed. Then a tornado uprooted it, rendering sighted trees extinct, and I signed up for Tinder.

Several years ago, I lived two doors down from a Vampire.

I only saw him at night - He was really cute, and he was a great kisser.

Several years ago I lived next door to this nasty old man who would rant and rave about the neighborhood dogs. He'd spray them with his garden hose and hit them with his cane and even chase them in his rattletrap car, shouting at them to leave him alone. Then, one autumn night, I looked out and saw a host of gleaming green eyes pass my window, and the next morning his house was empty and his yard was full of muddy pawprints and gnawed-up fragments of what could've been a wooden cane.

Several years ago, I lived next to an alley in Hollywood, where, I am certain, all supernatural evil in the universe was born. Sparing all the other stories I could tell (which are really bad!), one time there were these two homeless guys out there trying to 'surf' on a pile of dog poop using a spare length of carpet. GF and I tried to ignore this, but one time when we came out of the house, one of the guys asked us 'Hey! You guys want a magic carpet poo ride?'

Every other story I have about that alley is much worse.

Several years ago I lived next door to a cloud. I saw silver linings daily...

Several years ago I lived next door to a dog-food processing plant. They would make their dog food from road kill, donated to them from the state (when workers scraped it up off the road). We had to hold our breath every morning as we raced from the apartment to the car, or else we would smell the dog food and want to barf.

True story.

Several years ago I lived next door to an old Korean War-era army depot in upstate New York--or so that's what everyone said it was. It was hundreds of acres and mostly empty but for second growth forest and scrub-land, but was fenced in with a high chain-link fence with all kinds of warning signs posted on it, and there were herds of white deer in it (really--https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seneca_white_deer). But later on we found out that those weren't deer and it wasn't a missile base at all, but a secret government installation for breeding battle unicorns.

Several years ago, I lived next to the man who sold the world; or so he claimed anyway. As I got up to leave (as one does when one is told that), he said he never died but that I was his friend (the freak). He was a really good singer.

Several years ago, I lived next door to a princess locked in a tower. My address was one number off, so we kept getting each others' mail - and each others' visitors. That's how I met my husband, actually; it's been five years, and I still haven't the heart to tell him his mistake, or that that the "monster" he killed to "rescue" me was my lawn flamingo...

Several years ago I lived next door to a woman who liked micro pet dogs--what they're calling purse dogs. She would take them for power walks every evening after work, and we would see her marching down the street at full speed, with a tiny animal on a leash behind her trying desperately to keep up with her long strides on its tiny little rat-like legs. Sometimes it couldn't, and would end up being dragged for several yards until she noticed and paused long enough for it to regain its feet. She would never pick it up and carry it.

Several years ago I lived next door to a contortionist. Every night she twisted herself into a pretzel and every night we had to untwist her. She flunked Circus 101.

Several years ago I lived next door to a forgotten god. He was a nice enough fellow, kept a beautiful garden, and had a one-eyed cat that followed him everywhere. He always communicated in writing, though; he claimed the voice of a god was too powerful to waste in casual conversation, and being such an old god he only had one word left on his divine tongue, which he was saving for a "special occasion."

Exactly 40 years ago I lived next door to the Wicked Witch of Dodge City. My daughter, Hannah, was the only child in the neighborhood. She was fascinated with letters and the postman. Most houses on the block had mail slots instead of mail boxes. One snowy afternoon Hannah slipped out of the backyard and made snow letters to deliver to everyone on the block. Of course not one of those old grumps was happy about their soggy mail and took me to task for letting my kid play outside. My husband was no help, he laughed out loud and bragged up his daughter's creativity when confronted with our dismal parenting. The witch wouldn't let it drop.

To make amends that spring, Hannah--who did get a spanking from me, for sneaking out of the backyard anf ruining everyone's mail--made a conciliatory sandwich (peanut butter and pastel jelly beans from her Easter basket) and left it on the witches patio table. The sandwich was rained on and drew ants--anything that appeals to a 4 year old will naturally draw ants. This incident set off a whole new round of mom-scolding. That May I had my revenge on the old bitch--I had a second baby girl! --s6

Jaymz Connelly said:

Several years ago I lived next door to a cereal killer. Every morning we'd hear the screams as he killed more cereal and then threw the bowls in the backyard and every night he'd bring the dried out bowls back inside. We finally bought him a box of breakfast bars to stop the screams because it was giving the neighbourhood a bad name.

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