The ZzzQuil I fantasized about on this very site last night sure would’ve come in handy just a few short hours later, when a ruckus on the street below roused me from a fragile sleep. Normally I would’ve assumed it was the fence-waterer next door being a drunken jackass, which is a common weekend occurrence. But after squinting at my watch and seeing that it was almost 4 am, I got up to look outside and make sure no one needed help since our streets and sidewalks were still hazardous.
What I saw from the window confused me at first — there was a tall, thin figure dressed in a dark coat, either dark or gray sweatpants, and a black balaclava, and he was charging around like a maniac. He wasn’t our neighbor, whoever he was, and he yelled something indecipherable at the driver of an SUV that passed him. In his hands he clutched an object that was about 2 ft. long and black. He wasn’t holding it the way you would a gun; if it was a weapon of some sort, I would’ve guessed nightstick.
Loud, turgid rock music emanated from his ride, a boat-sized sedan that looked like something my great-grandparents drove in 1987; it was doubtful he planned to smash car windows or do anything so nefarious it required stealth. Had he committed a crime that resulted in the police knocking on doors and asking questions, I would’ve told them “He was too covered-up to say for sure, but the aggressively rhythmless bass of whatever horrible music he was listening to could only be tolerated by a young white guy.”
After throwing the black mystery object on the backseat of his car, he grabbed a plastic bag and sprinted up our driveway. Confident a kindly stranger hadn’t shown up overnight to pooper-scoop, I sighed and was about to pull up a live view of our security cameras when I saw a dark flash streak across the snow toward Fence Waterer’s house. It clearly wasn’t a hot meal from DoorDash: he was delivering either drugs or liquor and my money was on the former since he appeared to be on uppers himself.
He ran back down the driveway, (intentionally) sliding with manic élan as he hit a slick patch on the street, and I figured the disturbance was just about over as he returned to his car.* But before he could pull away from the curb, a compact car careened down the street and came to a stop in front of our house. Mr. Balaclava, who I’ve since renamed Smooth Criminal, bolted from his vehicle, abominable music still blaring, and shouted “Which way are you going?”
Returning to his backseat, he pulled out a small shovel — probably the mystery object — to dig the motorist out. Once liberated, the driver was able to reverse and park less haphazardly, but seemed afraid to exit their car with Smooth Criminal — still masked, wielding a shovel, and bouncing around like Jim Carrey’s Riddler — just a couple feet away. Once he moved closer to his sedan, the driver cautiously emerged: it was Fence Waterer, who put his hands up and kept a healthy distance before calling out “Thank you” and slowly backing away.
Should you really be ordering things at 4 am from people you’re afraid of? I wondered as I returned to bed, angry that this weaselly twerp had again robbed me of sleep with one of his weekend binges. His fiancée’s car, the one he’d just gotten stuck in, had been snow-covered in their driveway as late as 2 am; this morning I noticed he hadn’t bothered clearing it off before his jaunt to pick up whatever additional party supplies he needed. “This is what happens when you let the Gentile riff-raff in,” I would’ve jokingly fumed to Crankenstein if she’d been more awake. “And on Shabbat, no less.”**
* I was almost impressed by the showmanship of that slide, which he probably thought no one was watching. He was absolutely confident he’d nail it — and he did.
** Half-jokingly would be more accurate, for I am genuinely annoyed that these dumb kids, one of whom obviously has a substance use disorder and anger management issues, are our neighbors. We deliberately selected a neighborhood like ours to avoid the sort of disturbances Fence Waterer began causing as soon as he moved in, and he really does stick out like a sore thumb with his obnoxious behavior during the Sabbath.