ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Weston Ochse is a former intelligence officer and special operations soldier who has engaged enemy combatants, terrorists, narco smugglers, and human traffickers. His personal war stories include performing humanitarian operations over Bangladesh, being deployed to Afghanistan, and a near miss being cannibalized in Papua New Guinea. His fiction and non-fiction has been praised by USA Today, The Atlantic, The New York Post, The Financial Times of London, and Publishers Weekly. The American Library Association labeled him one of the Major Horror Authors of the 21st Century. His work has also won the Bram Stoker Award, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and won multiple New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards. A writer of more than 26 books in multiple genres, his military supernatural series SEAL Team 666 has been optioned to be a movie starring Dwayne Johnson. His military sci fi series, which starts with Grunt Life, has been praised for its PTSD-positive depiction of soldiers at peace and at war. Weston likes to be called a chaotic good paladin and challenges anyone to disagree. After all, no one can really stand a goody two-shoes lawful good character. They can be so annoying. It's so much more fun to be chaotic, even when you're striving to save the world. You can argue with him about this and other things online at Living Dangerously or on Facebook at Badasswriter. All content of this blog is copywrited by Weston Ochse.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Love They Neighbor What...?

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It all began when we ordered something online.

Then about Tuesday we wondered where it was. I checked the tracking and it was allegedly delivered on Friday. So I called FEDEX and gave them the WHAT FOR and the WTF. They opened an investigation and promised to get back with me. They still haven't.

Meanwhile, in our neighborhood, unbeknownst to me, the package with the thing we'd ordered had been sitting on a neighbor's stoop since last Friday. And it's a big box. If dropped on someone's head it might kill them. If slung in the chest of a neighbor, it would surely knock them down. Finally yesterday, I spied this box, about five houses down, on the same side of the street, a home with similar numbers.

So I went up to the door, which was partially blocked by the box, stepped around it, and knocked on the door. I peeked through the window and saw toys strewn from one side of the house to the other. The television was on a Maury Povich-like talk show. A child with wild hair, food on her face, and a look like Jack Nicholson gave after he stuck his head through the hotel room door plastered her face to the window. A man holding a baby opened the door. He looked all the world like a meth-addicted Tom Green (even though Tom Green often looks meth addicted).

The conversation went something like this:

ME: Hi. I think FEDEX mis-delivered my package.

NEIGHBOR: Okay.

ME: I live just down the street.

NEIGHBOR: Okay.

ME: I saw this on your porch and thought I'd stop by.

NEIGHBOR: Okay.

ME: It was delivered last Friday.

NEIGHBOR: Okay.

ME: I've been looking for it.

NEIGHBOR: Okay.
I tried once more to get single word man to explain WTF he kept my box on his front porch for a week rather than bringing it down.

ME: Just five houses down (as I point towards my house).
His vapid expression changes.
NEIGHBOR: I didn't see it.
Really? For a week? You didn't see it? You had no idea? Seriously? For a whole week?

But trying to be a good effing not the sort to shoot someone kind of neighbor I smile weakly.

He closed the door. Through the door I hear:
NEIGHBOR'S DEMENTED OFFSPRING: Who was that, Daddy?
EFFING VAPID POS NEIGHBOR: Just a wierdo, honey.

Really?

Seriously?

I'm the wierdo?

Sigh.

Love thy neighbor what?






6 comments :

  1. At least you got your box, I hope, even if it was moron-impeded for a week.

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  2. I admire your restraint. I would have smashed them to death with the contents of the box, run their remains through the nearest wood chipper and said: "Now yeh can call me a 'wierdo,' yeh feckin' bollocks, yeh."

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  3. It always has to end with Sean Connory with you. Lol. I think we call that in the business, "Going Fargo" on someone.

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  4. Didn't see it, my a**. When we went by the house on our way back home (before Wes went back to get it), I saw one of his kids stepping around the box as she opened the door and went inside. The box was big enough to hold an old-fashion television (the kind before flat screens) and was even marked "OVERSIZE" on the side. ::hmph::

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  5. If I were friends with the local PD, I'd have them scare the guy just a little. "We understand you kept a package that did not belong to you for five days and made no effort to return it to the delivery company or contact the owners whose address was on the package. Do you understand that this is mail theft and a Federal offense?"

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  6. Lol. If that guy new who my friends were, he'd never mess with me.

    Thanks Wendy!

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