Sunday, December 21, 2008

Meanwhile, Back Home....

A bit of a change, as things are so insanely boring here in Baghdad. This dispatch will be about home, specifically one of the unintended consequences of the housing collapse. Specifically what I saw when I was home, and how I had to deal with it. That being said, sit back as the IR has got a couple of funny ones for you.

Ok ALL of my neighbors, all the Mil folks, my marines, Air Force Para rescue kids? I’ve mentioned them previously. To whit: I had two sets of wing wipers from McDill and a Prior Service Marine Recon kid living directly across from me and around me... we had a "watch out for each other thing" going... when the housing market crashed, a lot of them moved, they either had some divorces (real “Wisteria Lane Stuff”,) or walked away like a bunch of other people.
The Bank, in its infinite wisdom, then rented them to:

1) Two redneck shit kicker white trash motherfuckers and
2) A Puerto Rican drug dealer

So needless to say, the IR/Big Country is NOT happy. Good neighbors exchanged for fucking dirtbags? GREAT! The PR drug deal was OBVIOUSLY a dealer as we had so many motherfucking cars roll up at odd hours (1am and 2am) and had people jump out, run inside for 3 to 5 minutes, and then run out and leave, usually in a rush. The rednecks? Not so bad, but see the following.

The rednecks, well, I dealt with them first, as I’m a redneck, granted one of New England Birth, so I at least, like in the movie “Airplane”: “Yes stewardess, I speak Jive!” Well, I speak Redneck, and got the street cred as one… so anyways, they presented the first opportunity to let them know just WHO runs this here piece o’ turf. Back home, my Dad was known as the Neighborhood Asshole… as in, don’t even THINK of being stupid with his property or family, OR ELSE! I found myself in a similar position.

This one night, I got out of work and Household Six had picked me up, well, I was in full ACUs as it WAS work, and I was trying to project an aura of “militarism” that the company hadn’t experienced before. Anyways, we pull into the driveway and come home to the rednecks going all out in their driveways and in the street... damned near getting out of control... I grabbed the kids, ran them in, and had Household Six grab my Beretta Nine (over strenuous objections… she sees guns, as having been raised in The Peoples Socialist Republic Of Massachusetts, as an evil thing) I told her to move the fuck out, no argument (things were getting heated) and move out while I watch things... in just 2 minutes she brought it to me, and I had her haul ass inside. I then chambered a round (which is loud) and then tucked in into the small of my back.

Amazing how the sound of a round being chambered quiets things down.

Everyone chilled when they heard the gun, and then saw the Big Fucking Dude( in ACUs mind you,) meaning ARMY or MILITARY in huge letters, thereby legitimizing me as an AUTHORITY FIGURE. I crossed the street, and man, things mellowed quick…. I settled them real quick… Like Jules “Chill that bitch out!” mode from fucking Pulp Fiction. It helped that they all are small dudes, and then they chilled, all hostility gone, and all I did was tell them point blank that “Welcome to MY neighborhood and that I would brook no shit with this Red Neck Soap Opera. If they want to kill each other in the walls of their rented house, then fine. It’s when it spills out on the street… (MY fuckin street, mind you) that it now becomes MY biddness, and that I’ll do ANYTHING to keep things happy happy joy joy on my fucking street.

Since then, they are all good with us, even offering to mow the lawns for Gina as they are working for a lawn care company. They, at least were easy. They respect what I do, and respect the fact that I’m a big ugly mercenary motherfucker. I like them truthfully… “Red Necks Gotta Stick Together” as they say… save yor Confederate money y’all… it’s gonna be worth more than the dollar soon! So to continue:

The drug dealer.
Hoo Boy…

After all this, I figured it was time to share the wealth of my wrath, so I went over the next night (seeings that I was on a roll) and told him that I didn't care how he made his money, but the cars and shit at all hours (3am and such) racing around the neighborhood was a no go.
In uniform mind you.


Full Battle Rattle... as if I had just got off the range. Sidearm and M-4 slung.

Ok this's where it gets good He acted like with typical gang banger mentality. All Spanish machismo...
I told him that I didn’t appreciate his business interfering with the neighborhood, and that he was risking his life and my family’s life with his “business.” And that I wasn’t gonna tolerate it.

"Yeah Homey? What makes me think I'm afraid?"

I told him flat out, I didn't expect him to be afraid... just aware... that I had killed before, and would do so again if needed... by way of slipping in a window at 3 or 4 in the morning, and killing every single living thing in the house, and then burning it to the ground, or burying them all in the back yard... and then I told him that if he EVEN LOOKED at my house in a hostile manner, or that if ANYTHING happened to ANYONE in my family, (to include scraped knees) that I'd not only kill him and everyone in the house, but I'd go to PR and kill EVERY SINGLE LIVING MEMBER of his family, and dig up and desecrate the graves of his entire family, burn the family homestead to the ground, and salt the earth with Morton’s Finest.
And man, that’s when he sorta cracked.

The look on his face was great, as I used Marchinko-sans "in your fucking face" close in and personal manner and pinned him to the wall using my level 4 plate to crush his ribcage. Nose-to-Nose Full-Tilt-Boogie Eyeball –to-Eyeball skull fucking. GREAT fun if you’ve ever done it.

He was scared.... I could smell it. You, if you’ve ever been “in the shit” know the smell of a man in mortal terror. I knew then that I had won.

Then next day? My Mexican Puerto Rican back yard Neighbor that I call "El Mariachi" (b/c they play mariachi music LOUDLY at their parties) he's a retired E-7 and a buddy... he comes over and tells me that he had a visit from his cousin (who knew?) who asked him if I was as bad as I seemed... he told him "Hey Vato-Loco... that Grande Gringo is the BADDEST motherfucker on the planet, former SF, killed more men than Anthrax, and don't let nuthin happen while he's not there!"

Since then, the vehicle traffic has slowed to nothing, except for HIM leaving out to do his “business” and that it also helps I posed for pictures in the front yard with the kids and weapons.
Yeah. It would seem that things at home are mellow now, but it’s still really fucked up that I have to have this scum living in my AO, and that I had to employ some extreme measures to keep things from spiraling out of control. Seeings that I can’t be there to protect them, It freaks me out.

If ANYTHING were to happen, I can see me doing a “Frank Castle” ala the Punisher… I mean really, I just keep my prayers to the “Chief Sky Pilot” AKA GOD and that he keeps the fools from doing something stupid. So far, we’re good, but what with how things are in the US right now, I’m debating on heading home when and if we see a collapse of societal norms, and right now, I’m unfortunately banking on the “when” than anything else.

Otherwise… talk with you all later. Things are D&B (dead and boring) as they say, and nadda mucho happening. The next one I’ll post pics from outside the wire as it were.


David M said...

The Thunder Run has linked to this post in the blog post From the Front: 12/22/2008 News and Personal dispatches from the front and the home front.

Alison said...

If only you could "visit" all of the creep drug dealers. Your method of "tough love".. hehe ... I would guess, would be quite sucessfull! Thanks for the great read!