Wow, major excitement around The Hellhole last evening! We had just finished watching the evening news (tres disappointment for me, alas: no Title Max Title Pawn commercial) and I'd walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth and take out my contacts. Alan was lying in bed with the television still on; "Mad TV" was in progress.

The Door-Slammin' Family From Outer Space started some door-slammin and I had counted to 8 slams when suddenly, the air was rent by loud whooping and hollering. I wasn't immediately sure that it wasn't from the tv show, but Alan turned the set off and the clamor continued. I have never heard the like of whooping and yelling that was going on - and I've been to a UGA frat party. While we could hear voices and shrieks, we couldn't make out actual words, which sounds odd considering how loud the uproar was; perhaps it's some trick of acoustics given that their carport is enclosed on three sides, with the only open side facing directly toward the bedroom end of my house.

Anyway, the din continued the entire time that I poked my head around into the bedroom, exchanged "WTF" looks with Alan, retreated and re-inserted my contacts, but with the added slammin' attraction of garbage can lids - not the metal kind, but the big green kind with wheels. I know that's what they were slamming because that type of garbage can makes a very distinctive 'thwack!'. Then there was a sound that - call it overactive imagination if you wish - sounded for all the world to me like flesh hitting flesh. Later on, Alan agreed with this and said that he thought the shouting sounded angry all along. I was unable to make this distinction, 'angry' sounding quite like 'drunk and raucous' to me.

By the time I'd gone to the kitchen for the binoculars and made it back to the guest room (the best view is from there - I have 100% blackout shades behind the levolors in my bedroom and it's a pain to get everything out of the way for a clear view) the racket had subsided considerably. I peeked out and saw the nominal head of the Door Slammin' Family striding around his driveway wielding a mop. (I'm not kidding.) Dude stalked up and down the area from the front of the house to this little detached shed, whipping his head from side to side as if searching for the enemy, and brandishing his mop threateningly.

There were a few other people standing around watching this, including the kids (which didn't thrill me) and their carport door was standing wide open. I went back to my bedroom to confer with and update Alan. He returned with me to the guest room and witnessed Mop-Wielding Dude on perimeter patrol. There was no more shouting, per se, although Mop-Wielding Dude ordered his family back inside and stalked around some more.

As I've written before, I'm a 'live and let live' kind of person and I don't really care what they do, to the extent that it doesn't affect me, but I'm perplexed, bewildered and utterly fascinated as to what could possibly be going on over there. If he was chasing off a crackhead or a rabid raccoon, I want to know. Not that I live in the sort of neighborhood conducive to crackheads, but you know what I mean. Alan shares my interest only partially; he's curious, too, but his main point was that "They need to drink a big steaming glass of Shut-The-Fuck-Up!" He was all for summoning The Law had the uproar continued and says he will, if the shouting/hollering/whooping ever happens at, say, 1:30 AM instead of 11:30 PM. I'm moderately opposed to that, because I KNOW what would happen. No matter how loud and intense the pandemonium, by the time The Law arrived all would be quiet and peaceful, so The Law would come over HERE to find out why I'd called them, the rowdy neighbors would see this and know it was me who squealed, and I'd suffer retribution. Which of course would force me to retaliate. I don't want a neighbor war, and trust me, neither do they. I'm smarter, I'm more malicious, I'm more evil and more to the point, I have a far better stereo system and lots of bagpipe CDs.

This morning, the only evidence of last night's incident was that one garbage can was pulled down the drive several feet from its usual position and there is what appears to be a pair of white athletic socks lying in the drive behind one of the cars. It's clean white cloth, anyway, in two small piles about 18" apart and I'm guessing socks as it looks too small to be a t-shirt. Which is the sort of thing that totally puzzles me. If I'd heard a noise, gone outside to investigate and gotten my socks wet and muddy, I'd take them off before I went back inside, too - but I wouldn't just leave them lying outdoors; I'd take them inside to be laundered. I wouldn't grab a mop, either (and Mom, I DO SO know where Miss Betty keeps it, that's not what I mean.). I'd leave the household cleaning implements and grab the S&W 9 instead - but that's just me.

MONTOYA DELENDA EST!