The Flip Flop Incident

I know what you are thinking.  I blew out my flip flop.  Stepped on a Pop Top.  Cut my heal and had to cruise on back home.  Because there might have been booze in the blender?  Perhaps it would render, a frozen concoction that would help me hang on, hang on, hang on?  However, Billy b isn't wasting away in Margaritaville looking for his lost shaker of salt.  However, I do believe there is a women to blame for this incident.  Yes, yes there is and her name is Rachel Tangus Greathouse, know aliases Jazz Hands, Blonde Mamba, and William Wallace.  Really, this is her tale I am spinning.  Yes, I think it is.

To truly understand the story, one must go back to the beginning, it was 2010 and the Kid we all know and love today was a first time home owner moving to the South Side of San Jose.  Just like in Terre Haute, now, like then I am south side till I die, and that is just how me and 50 get down.  I moved to this neighborhood of really nice people.  Mostly a bit on the elderly side.  However, just because someone is old doesn't mean they can't be nice.  Some are in there 40's but I would say they are the exception not the rule.  I think Rachel and I are the youngest kids on the block, other than the dopers that smoke the chronic outside Rachel's window. The point is other than the dopers everyone here is really nice except, the neighbors.

At first I thought i just wronged this lady and her 40 + live in son in another life.  Because four years of living her and to this day I have not gotten 1 hello, good bye, nod, or any other jester acknowledging that I exist.  I mean I am a pretty likable guy.  I am fat, mostly jolly, raise money for cancer, am anti-cankle, you know just your good ole all american boy.  Generally, people don't start not liking me until they have actually talked to me.  So what is it with these people and there complete ignoring of the Kid.

Well over time and the last four years I have come up with a theory based on several Stephen King Novels read, a healthy imagination, watching Bones, and Supernatural.  The answer is obvious they have to be Serial Killers.   Let me give you some examples.  He by nature is nocturnal.  Him and his mom share the same car.  They never have company over.  I saw them once together on a Friday night at Panda Express.  There garage is built like a maze, it has a wall of junk then primarily open space.  They clean there back porch a lot.  they don't talk to me.  They cook stuff on the back porch that smells a lot like long pig.  I get up at 4 a.m. to get a glass of water and there lights are all on in the house.  Shiner never goes near that fence.  They have hooks in the back yard that have ropes hanging form them.  They have a PT Cruiser.  And not once, twice, or eight times have I got up to go to the airport at 4 a.m. and he is out washing the family car.  The one him and his 70 year old mom share. That she drives in the day and he at night.  Did I say they shared it and it is a PT Cruiser?

Honestly, there is bad jujumagumbo going on in that place next store.  I am certain that if I disappear and my story doesn't tragically end at the hands of a crazy women, it is because I am buried in my neighbors back yard.  Another one of the countless victims that cause a man in his 40's to get up at 4 a.m. when it is dark out and wash his car.

I know what you think.  Just like I know what my old team at Calidus used to think, that I am crazy.  I am making it up.  That just because:  He by nature is nocturnal.  Him and his mom share the same car.  They never have company over.  I saw them once together on a Friday night at Panda Express.  There garage is built like a maze, it has a wall of junk then primarily open space.  They clean there back porch a lot.  they don't talk to me.  They cook stuff on the back porch that smells a lot like long pig.  I get up at 4 a.m. to get a glass of water and there lights are all on in the house.  Shiner never goes near that fence.  They have hooks in the back yard that have ropes hanging form them.  They have a PT Cruiser.  And not once, twice, or eight times have I got up to go to the airport at 4 a.m. and he is out washing the family car.  The one him and his 70 year old mom share. That she drives in the day and he at night.  Did I say they shared it and it is a PT Cruiser?  That that means there is a bone yard in their back yard.  Seriously if I don't post for a week, check there, I will be chained up or dead back there with Shiner and Rachel.  I am telling you.  It is probable.  Not as probably as being stabbed to death by a crazy women, that I am not having sex with, but still very probable.  I mean come on, how else do you expect my story to come to a tragic end.  You think I am going to just fade away.  No No no...

So, for all of you people who think I am nuts.  Ok, let me restate that because I am bat shit crazy.  For all of you who think I am making up that my neighbor, you know the 40 year old who lives with his mom and is a serial killer, is a fucking weirdo.  I know have proof.  Haha.  Proof.  However, proof might be coming at a cost.

Four years, I have lived here.  Four years and these people don't say boo to me.  However, one day when Rachel happens to take me to the airport at 4 a.m. so I could fly to Hawaii or something like this, i shit you not that he is waiting is outside cleaning his car.

Then he approaches Rachel to tell her that my Impala is going to get towed.  Why the fuck would he wait till I was gone?  Why would he approach her at like 4:45 in the morning.  That is just weird.  I mean that is really bad Juju, right there.  Needless to say that rachel was creeped out and I was gone to the islands so there was nothing I could have done.  Not that I would have done anything anyway, because he comes here with an ax, I would push rachel down to get out of his way and run.  You want to see fat move fast come after me with an ax.  Rachel won't be the first girl I push out of my way to get away from a crazy.  There may or may not have been a Haunted House incident.  I may or may not have squealed like a bitch and pushed someone out of my way.   I mean, I am not hero.  Never claimed to be.  So, if he comes in here, and I am home, I am gonna be running through the grass shaking my fat ass, can't you see me... Billy b gone.  I mean it.  Exit stage left, me and puppy we are gone.

So, as time passes, I think he has said hi to Rachel a few other times in passing.  Me, nothing.  He says Billy b, you, your not good, the whiff.  His mom too.  Which is bullshit because older ladies like me.  I pull the proverbial wool over their eyes.  They actually think I am nice and sort of sweet.  They have no idea.

So all of this shit is not right.  Not even a little.  The dude and his mom are strange.  I mean it.  Just strange.  I mean everyone likes me.  Everyone but weird serial killer types that is.

Since you people require more proof here it is.  Rachel goes to the gym or to run or something.  She left and took two pairs of shoes.  One pair being her flip flop or as some times I like to refer to them as flippity flopity floops.  So when she comes home the flippity flopity flops are in her bag when she gets out of the car and on her way in she passes through the garage and leaves the garage door open and comes in and starts to unpack.  She says she went right back out, but know her I know there was at least one bathroom break in there and playing with the dog but she gets to her room and she starts to pull out her flippity flopity flops and there is only one in the bag.  She walks back outside and retraces her steps and looks in the car and its not there.  It is gone.  I am talking like gone gone.  Like without a fucking trace.  Like she saw it when she took the bag out of the car, and by the time she got in, it was gone.

So I get a text at work saying "i lost flip flop, let me know if you see it".  What do I have some magic flip flop vision or something, ha ha.  I know what she meant.  So of course I says to her, well go ask the neighbor because I am sure he is sniffing it right now and maybe licking it.  he response was "ewww!"

Over the next 72 hours, her and I of course get on the serial killer kick.  How the neighbor took it.  That he is over there molding it.  He is talking to it.  He carry's it around in a bag.  Basically if it is creepy and you can do it with a shoe, we had him doing it.  I may or may not have done a few examples of what I thought he was doing just so I could her Rachel go "ewww!"

I am at work on Friday doing what I always do at working planning a new blog, or story.  Can't wait to tell you about the black comedy set at work.  It will be awesome!  When I get this text.

Rachel - "Oh my fucking god!  The neighbor did have my flip flop!!!!!!!!!!!"

Billy b - "Ewwwwwww."

Rachel - "Really"

Billy b - "Shut up"

Rachel - "Really"

Billy b - "We have to move"

Rachel - "He just asked the cleaning ppl to come get me and he gave it to me.  I's so scared!"

Billy b thanking all the gods he was in Pleasanton and far away from this man says "Oh fuck that's so creepy. OMG!"

Rachel - "Story of my fucking life"

Billy b - "we need to train shiner to kill him on site.  And mace.  And probably a bat.  And when you absolutely positively have to kill ever mother fucker in the room an AK 47."

Rachel - "Yes!  Why the fuck would he pick up my flip flop and hold it for a week?"

Billy b thinking in his mind of this man sniffing it, jacking himself to it, talking to it -  "I don't know"

Rachel -  We need to back out all the windows.  I think this needs to be your next blog."

Billy b - "Perhaps, but GET MACE!"

So... there you have it.  the guy is a weirdo.  I mean really.  That is weird right.  I hope and I really hope he is just a little socially awkward and wanted to give it to Rachel and talk to her b/c he likes her or something and not plotting um something else, because that would just be really bad.  Having a serial killer for a neighbor is bad.  Real bad.

The worst is we sat around for a three or four days making jokes about it and where it was and he had it in his weird garage the entire time.

And there you have it, the Flip Flop Incident...

on other notes... I am tried.  Rough day today.   Really rough.  Its over and behind us.  Im exhausted and need to rest up.

Tomorrow a new day and back to it!

Later...