Condemned

Dearest Crackheads Who Used to Live Next Door,

We didn’t know you guys very well. Frankly, there were just so many of you, it would have been impossible to keep track of the 15-30 people coming in and out of there, but that didn’t stop us from noticing the little things that add up to make you who you are: our most beloved crackheads.

We admired the way you were so accepting of all types of people. We’ve observed that at any given time, you’d have 14 year old girls over even though you guys all look to be really skinny versions of 21-25 year olds. I’m sure those relationships were purely elder-brotherly, because we all know that if they were anything more, that would be both illegal and just plain gross. Also, we particularly enjoyed seeing that random 65 year old dude whose presence we could never really explain or comprehend.

We know you were lovers of music. Some of Gary’s fondest memories are of the bass of your gangster rap shaking the sides of our house for a couple minutes, inexplicably fading, and then returning about half an hour later, to his immense relief. His only complaint was that these blessings must last so short a time. He felt so silly when he finally realized it was so that you could still hear the music while you took your three legged dog out to further sully the trash heap you called a yard. You jokesters had us thinking you were just trying to drive us to the point of insanity.

You were lovers, not fighters. Except for that one time a kid rode by on a bicycle, and of course you couldn’t resist throwing a large stick at him. Honestly, who could??? You’re only human, crackheads.

You respected women. Every time a girl walked in front of your house, you were sure to let her know you appreciated her as a woman by wolf whistling and occasionally beating sticks on your fence as if in applause. You know, my sister’s still single (wink, wink).

You were sentimental creatures. You just couldn’t stand the thought of parting with that dirty baby diaper, so you stowed it away in a Doritos bag in your back yard for safe keeping. Again, we’d like to offer our sincerest apologies for its destruction when it so innocently wandered over into our yard and ended up in our dog’s mouth. We realize now how selfish it was for us to be more concerned for his health than your feelings of mourning over the loss of such a priceless possession. Think about it. Who can put a price on a bag of crap?

My biggest regret is that I’ll no longer have the joy of watching the way you care for the children in your life. As I said before, I never knew any of your names, but I especially loved to watch the one of you whom I liked to refer to as “The Queen Hoodrat” rearing your infant. One thing’s for sure: that baby will learn how to multitask. How many times have I seen you holding your baby in one hand, lighting a cigarette with the other with boundless efficiency and grace, with no need for shoes or a bra, standing like a statue raised among the garbage scattered around you on the ground, all the while screaming curse words at your baby daddy through an upstairs window? Breathtaking. Followed by coughing...because of the smoke.

As far as we can tell, you guys only had one flaw: a penchant for putting propane down the toilet, which lead to your eventual downfall. They don’t build sanitary sewage lines like they used to, and those weaklings just couldn’t take the pressure. Before we knew it, the contents of those sorry excuses for pipes had seeped up into your basement. You guys just kept on keepin’ on though, right up until the day the ambulance showed up to respond to your complaints of flu-like symptoms.

We were surprised to find that the day after the house was condemned, most to all of the windows in the house were broken in a random, unrelated act of vandalism. It must have been such a blow, so soon after receiving the news that your home was unlivable and you’d all have to leave. Talk about kicking you while you’re down.

Are you homeless now, crackheads? Will your parents refuse to accept you back into their homes out of shame for having brought you into this world? Have you considered sneaking into our basement and toughing it out there in hopes that one day you might return to your fallen castle while no one’s looking? We’ve asked ourselves these questions time and time again, and we always come up with the same answer: probably.

So long, crackheads. We’ll miss you.

No. We won’t.