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Alexa! Play Bitches Ain't Shit by Dr. Dre (PART TWO)

"If I wanted to kill myself, I would climb your ego and jump to your Intelligence Quotient (IQ)." I don't recall when I first heard the quote, but it perfectly describes the arrogance and entitlement of my neighbors. In all honesty, I am not at all bothered by the pissing matches we have. The only thing that truly angers me is how passive aggressive they are, and how they interact with my children. I strongly urge you to read, "Alexa; Play Bitches Ain't Shit by Dr. Dre" before progressing with this story. I feel the background is important, and it will better help you understand my unique predicament.
Where is the proctologist when you need one? I know there are a couple assholes out there that totally blew past that link. Assholes, like me, that don't require the background. Listen here fuck-head, I will give you a quick rundown of Kevin, and Karen, but I strongly suspect you will eventually read the other story and determine that Sloppy was correct. Feel free to inflate my ego and tell me how correct I was in the comments below.
The Neighbors
Kevin was very friendly when we first moved in. Kevin is 72 years young and is a retired Air Force logistician. Kevin is also so morbidly obese his scale likely reads seven digit phone numbers. Kevin has already undergone two bypass surgeries, but continues to thrive on Chick-fil-A, and other healthy fast food options. I am not a medical professional, but I assume the doctors bypassed his brain, and now Kevin uses the intellectual capacity of his asshole to make critical decisions.
You know what? I am sick of going back and editing Kevin's name. I continue to type "Ken" because his name is fucking Ken. Protecting his identity is not my concern, and I would be more than happy if he accidently stumbled upon this story and realized I can be passive aggressive as well.
Ken is the quintessential "Rules Guy". I live in a golf course community and the Home Owners Association (HOA) was more akin to the Third Reich. I quickly found out that Ken would notify the HOA for every unintentional infraction. Unfortunately, Ken was unaware that I have been gifted with a humorous touch. Susan, the HOA Princess, was very stern during our initial conversations, but now she occasional calls when, "she needs a laugh." I submitted a stunning plan to build a "Hanging Herb Garden" and the HOA loved it so much they jokingly suggest I build five. One for each member of the Board. I fucking did, and I only charged them for the cost of supplies. The HOA is in my pocket, and Ken is now jealous that I am the "Golden Child" and can do now wrong. Cake is my progeny for a fucking reason people!
The thing that bothers me most about Ken is his passive aggressiveness. Ken is at the beck-and-call of Karen, but Ken immediately turns into a fleeing coward when the decibel level of the conversation becomes hostile. My apologies Ken, I typically lose my patience when you openly call my children "heathens" and video record them while they play in my yard.
Karen: This lady is a bitch, and it was evident from our very first interaction. Ken called her name so he could introduce us when I first arrived. She was gardening, and screamed "I don't like meeting people without my makeup." She quite literally looks like Carole Baskin, and no amount of makeup can rectify that mess. Her face has was clearly on the losing end of a bag of hot nickels, and I bet her dildo has a prescription for Viagra.
Karen is the master of chaos, and she thoroughly enjoys terrorizing Cake when my wife and I are not around. Despite being unethical and immoral, Karen legally video taped my children playing outside, on my property. The video recording has subsided, because she cares deeply about her tree, but she is still a bitch. Simply, I fucking hate her.
The Bush
My wife, Cake, and I arrived home from travel soccer on Saturday afternoon. I see Ken watching Karen planting three bushes on the front of heir property. No worries, right? Despite being a bio-terrorist, Cake is also too smart for his own wellbeing.
Cake: (Laughing) She is blocking the bike jump.
Wife: What?
Cake: I used to jump my bike off the curb and into the street. I didn't go on their property though.
OP: Really?
Cake: Yes! I did it yesterday, and now she is blocking it with bushes.
OP: What a...
Cake: Dad. Can I say it?
OP: (Why Not?) Sure.
Cake: Karen is being a real BITCH!
I am not opposed to a verbal altercation, but I had college football to watch, and I didn't have time for petty games. Karen was ass up, and working on the final bush, when she heard my 4Runner door slam closed. I was in the process of removing the soccer gear from the truck when I was passive aggressively prodded.
Karen: This will stop that little shit from jumping.
I knew it was directed at me. She could have uttered it mentally, but she opted to say it loud enough for all of us to hear. My wife rolled her eyes, but I was suddenly in the mood to play petty games now.
OP: Excuse me?
Karen scowled at me. I stared deep into the abyss of her angry eyes, and could clearly see that she lacked civil decency, and a soul.
Karen: What do you want?
OP: I am curious about your comment, and wondering who the "little shit" is?
Karen: Your son. He was jumping his bike off the curb and coming close to our property.
I was now pissed. Words have meanings. Word choice is very, very important in my profession. Word choice can be a matter of legal versus illegal, or subject me to a very hostile audience. I can see that some of you are still in the passenger seat, but the look in your eyes tells me you have no fucking clue where we are going. See below for an example. If you are still blissfully lost after this, I kindly ask you to exit the vehicle.
Post Mission Brief Statement: I Tactically Questioned Johnny Jihad and learned that ISIS fighters wear Hello Kitty underwear and use Velcro gloves for enhance control during Operation Sheep Fucking.
Department of Defense (DoD) Interpretation: Sloppy asked a terrorist some question, and now we know ISIS fighters wear girly underwear and fuck sheep.
Department of State (DoS) Interpretation: Sloppy tortured and waterboarded John, criticized their choice of underwear, and has issues with their sincere love of animals.
Okay, the DoS statement may be a bit embellished, but "Tactical Questioning" has a very different meaning for them. I don't ever say TQ when I am briefing DoS officials at an U.S. Embassy. I simply change TQ to "interview" and everyone is happy. See? Words have meanings.
Back to Karen, that bitch said "close to our property." Cake didn't actually go on her property, he flew over it. Furthermore, we are talking about less than a foot of property. This bothered Karen enough that she decided to block an eleven year old boy, from jumping his bike off my curb, and into the street. That is a coldhearted bitch move. Again, I was suddenly in the mood to play my favorite game, fuck-fuck games.
OP: So, he didn't go on your property?
Karen was about to summon her in bitch and go full-on Carole Baskin.
OP: That is such a bitch move.
I didn't directly call her a bitch, but I insinuated that she was, in fact, a bitch. I knew I was about to awaken the sleeping demon, and I did. Karen screamed back like I just pleasured her ham-wallet with Barrel Cactus.
Ken: Did you just call my wife a bitch?
OP: Ken! You were standing right there. I said it was a "bitch move." I didn't call your wife a bitch.
Ken: Oh. So you didn't call her a bitch then?
OP: (Huge Smirk) I mean, I think we both know the answer to that already, but NO, I didn't call her a bitch.
I then walked my happy-ass into the garage to formulate my revenge. My apologies, but you wont understand what I am talking about next if you failed to read, "Alexa; Play Bitches Ain't Shit by Dr. Dre." However, that is your fault, not mine. Her precious tree, looking like a tree, is a great concern of Karen's. However, that is my ace-in-the-hole. Cutting one-third of her tree lacked proportionality. My revenge had to be smaller is scale, cowardly passive aggressive, and befitting of the situation.
Dear Reader, my brain is fantastical. I "stewed" on my revenge for exactly zero fucking seconds. I had superbly analyzed the placement of her huge ass as she planted the third bush that blocked Cake's Evil Knievel jump. Again, it took zero seconds to ponder my revenge. I simply told the wife that I needed to run an errand and that I would be back in thirty minutes.
My adventure took me near Home Depot. I spend a considerable amount of time there, which made me fully aware of the nearby Spirt Halloween store. It was the location that would assist me in my joyously crafted revenge.
Spirit Halloween Shopping List
  1. Full size skeleton x 1
  2. Crib-midget sized skeleton x 3
I was in-and-out of Spirit Halloween in less than five minutes, but I my mission was not fully complete. I need to battle the Zombies at Walmart as well. I spoke with Ed, the door greater, and happily made my way to the Old Lady Clothes department. JC Penny and Burlington Coat Factory are too classy for Karen; she is People of Walmart. I was not certain I would find the exact outfit she was wearing while she deviously block Cake's ramp, but I would come close.
Walmart Shopping List
  1. Blue Pants
  2. White floral print shirt
  3. Pink Granny-sized/"Period" underwear.
Sadly, I didn't have time for "people watching" at Walmart. I was on a mission people, and I had college football to watch. I returned home and grabbed my tools. I had some gardening to do. I was about to co-garden with Karen. Maybe this would was the first step in breaking down the Berlin Wall? Ken is always at her beck-and-call, but his face dreams of living in West Germany. The wife looked on from the garage. She was watching the adult version of Cake. She had no clue what I was doing, but she knew she needed to intervene before Law Enforcement or Emergency Services were dispatched. I don't know why the wife was on edge, I was clearly about to garden. Seriously, what kind of fucking trouble could I get in while gardening?
I dragged my bucket of garden tools and three skeletons out to the front yard. Cake's ramp was already blocked, so I wasn't doing anymore harm. I dug three holes that symmetrically mirrored Karen's bushes, and then planted the three Crib-Midget-sized skeletons waste deep in the ground. I then immediately learned that Karen likes to garden alone.
Karen: Just what do you think you are doing?
OP: (Smile) Gardening ma'am.
Karen: Those are NOT PLANTS!
OP: You are very observant!!!
Ken: You can't do that without HOA approval.
OP: (Looks up slowly and gaze eye-to-eye) Yeah? How about you KISS. MY. ASS!
I had just raised my voice. It was like shining light on a cock-roach. Ken scurried away into the house. Karen proceeded to berate my gardening capabilities. I am, by no means, an advanced gardener. I just recently learned to look at the "Full Sun, Shade..." labels on the plants I purchase. Karen is a professional gardener, but she refused to offer an advice. She was acting like a total bitch again.
Karen: This is just a mockery. You are white trash. JUST. TRASH.
OP: How much water do you think these need?
Finally! Karen ran into the house. I was not done with my floral-skeleton masterpiece, and the wife was still exactly what the fuck I was doing. I was also still in question about how much water the skeletons would need, but I could Google that later.
Wife: What are you doing babe? Are you trying to piss them off?
Wife: You know Ken went inside to call the HOA right?
Wife: And you know they are going to come right?
OP: YES. I am POSITIVE they are going to come.
Wife: Oh God! What did you do?
OP: I called Susan (HOA Princess) while I was shopping and informed her of my plan.
Wife: What did she say?
OP: That I'm an asshole and she can't wait to see it when I am done.
Wife: What's "it"?
OP: You'll see babe! You'll fucking see!
I had complete filling the dirt around my three skeletons and it was now time for the centerpiece, the coup de grace. I walked to the back of the 4Runner and open the door. My wife was now staring at the skeletal replica of Karen. It was wear a lovely floral printed shirt, blue pants, and a pink panty wedgie that stretched up to its T-12 vertebra.
Wife: OH. MY. GOD. That looks EXACTLY like her.
I then position skeletal-Karen exactly the way I saw her when I first arrived home. The ass was in the air, and she even had a small spade shovel adhered to her hand. The wife not impressed, but also totally impressed. I had just finished positioning skeletal-Karen in the ground when the HOA truck arrived. Skeletal-Karen's ass were clearly obvious, and pointing right at Karen's house.
The amber flashing lights of the HOA truck indicated the "All Clear" for Ken and Karen to exit their house. Karen mounted her invisible dildo-shaped broomstick and flew across the yard like a witch-bitch on a mission.
Susan: (Smiling at me) Oh, I'm sorry. The call was about "landscaping." This does not qualify. If you read Chapter Four, Section Ten about "lies and communist propaganda" it clearly states the homeowner can decorate thirty days prior to Halloween, and has fourteen business days after Halloween to remove all season decorations.
Karen: You're telling me I have to stare at this until the middle of November? This is insane.
Susan: They are Halloween decorations.
Karen: (Scowls at Sloppy) I will be out here celebrating when I watch you take them down.
The End. I really hope you enjoyed my simple act of revenge. That's what I would type if I was a normal person. I am not a "normal person" and I fucking excel at Fuck-Fuck! I know she will celebrate the day I have to take down my decorations. I also know the HOA will give me a Nasty Gram if I fail to comply. BUT...
OP: Susan?
Susan: (Devious Smile) Yes Sloppy?
OP: I am perfectly allowed to decorate for Thanksgiving though, right? For example, what happens if I replace the skeletons with pumpkins, and turn the larger skeleton into a pilgrim?
Susan: (Smile) Perfectly acceptable!
OP: (Giddy with excitement) Then I can change them into elves, and have a gardening Mrs. Claus?
Susan: There are no rules against it.
OP: (Turns to Karen) I fucking LOVE gardening!
Both Ken and Karen retreated into their house. I didn't get to visibly watch their faces, but I could fill their disappointment when Susan came to my garage Man-Cave to share a beer and discuss how much we both equally hate them. I will continue to play the long-game, and keep the tree trimming as my final option. I have other hobbies that I sincerely enjoy, but I always make time for Fuck-Fuck. It is a game that never gets old to me, and I can't wait to send a "Get Well Soon" card to their house when one of them passes away. It's a bit much, I know, but they are truly evil people. Berating an eleven year Cake is simply unacceptable, and she seeks that opportunity when he is playing alone. Oh, well. I was initially disheartened when I slowly learned I had horrible neighbors. The glass half full? It really helps to keep my Fuck-Fuck game up to par.
I hope you enjoyed and I will be sure to update you on my "situation."
submitted by SloppyEyeScream to FuckeryUniveristy


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