Thursday, July 22, 2004

Rough or what?

I wont say I live in a rough area but to give you a clue I have 1/2" steel bars on every downstairs window of my place. I also have 3/8" steel plate covering my back door secured by a 4" Chubb "invincible" padlock. The police know our area like the back of their hands and regularly can be seen (and heard)  arriving at great speed, lights flashing and sirens blaring.  Followed quite often by ambulances. I also have a video security camera linked to my TV and a very friendly message to the bad boys painted onto my back door. It says "Smile for the camera." But that doesn't stop various couples giving me a free porn show at my back door, which is not visible from the main road. And as I habitually sit in the dark writing this crap. With only the light of the monitor. No one even suspects I'm here.  So I'm treated to grunts and groans and moans and "Give it to me big boy" not 6 feet from where I'm sitting.  I usually wait til the critical moment and turn on the flood lights. Cruel aren't I?
Now you may think it must be aweful to live here. Well don't. It may be a lot of things but it aint boring. I love it. Never a dull moment.  Even as I write this the police have sped past to the estate behind me.  The police helicopter is overhead, searchlight piercing through the darkness. It reminds me of "Apocalypse now". Except even Charlie Sheen wouldn't be seen dead here. 
I habitually stay up late. There's no point going to bed early. There's too much noise outside. People screaming  at each other, fights going on.  Drunks falling about and singing. Girls in tears because their psychopathic boyfriends have ditched them.  Sitting slumped on the pavement opposite, their stockings in a mess and mascara all down their faces The boyfriend with more testosterone than he can handle is is itching to land one on her.  Sometimes he does. But he's torn between been desperate for the  shag that he's incapable of, and wanting to hit someone very hard. I can see him fidgiting in the street.  All tensed up, stressed out, somethings gonna give, very soon. The girl is crying. He is frustrated. He hasn't the mental capacity to know why she's crying, all he knows is that it's fucking annoying him. He's done everything tonight, he's bought her drinks, got her pissed, and now she's crying. What the fuck is going on? A mate turns up. The boy's so wired up he wants to hit him but the mate is laughing and joshing with him. "Come on ditch the bitch. She's not worth it."
"But I love her." comes the plaintive cry.  Love? Two seconds ago he wanted to punch her lights out.
"go on just talk to her then."
So the boy goes to the girl slumped against the wall of the grave yard opposite my place. "Come on love. Let's go home."
"You bastard! I've had enough. I can't  take anymore."
He's  still trying to be nice. "Come on you can't stay there all night you'll die of cold. Let's go home."
"Leave me alone you bastard. I can't do this anymore."
"Think of the baby?" he tries.
"You think the baby is yours?" I'm not sure she means that. But it has the appropriate response.
"You fucking bitch." And the mate is holding him back while he tries to kick the girl on the pavement. She screams some more. The police arrive. Him and his mate walk nonchalantly off up the road. They don't even know her. By the time she's stopped crying they're long gone.
"Where do you live love?"
"Just up the road. I'll be alright."
A four by four screeches to a halt. "It's OK officer that's my daughter in law.I'll take her home."
They bundle her into the trooper and speed off up the road.
All is quiet and finally I can get to sleep.



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