Monday, December 31, 2012

The saga continues

I don't know about you, but we miss neighbor-fight! Sure it was annoying to wake up at 3 AM to mindless yelling (never figured out if it was really an insult when they called each other 'crackhead'- more just a statement of fact I think) and to have people buying crack in front of our home in broad daylight. But all in all it was very entertaining. Since the hurricane we have certainly had plenty to keep us busy, but there has been a little part of our life missing- the drama that is neighbor-fight. So it is with great pleasure I present to you a guest post written by our wonderful landlord.

But first, to give some context- last week boyfriend dropped by the house to check on the garden and just see how things were going. He sent me a picture with the caption below:
Recognize anything?
Hint: It's not the brown tarp. We bought our grill when we first moved in, it was our prized possession. We made many a feast in the back yard. After the hurricane it was the only thing in the shed that did not completely disappear- including the shed. But sadly a combination of factors made us leave it behind, for starters, the fact that it had been completely submerged in nasty water. I felt somewhat violated that our property had been re-appropriated for crackhead cooking.

Boyfriend then ventured into the back yard and this is what he found:

The orange snake
He texted our landlord: "Looks like the orange snake has crept across the yard again" You may recall, power struggles were an issue even prior to the hurricane. The landlord replied with a glorious foreshadowing: "Too much to text, will send an email." So now I give you, for your reading entertainment, the email chronicling the latest adventures of neighbor blog:

It's been eight weeks since the devastation of 29 October. After cleaning out, there hasn't been much reason to hang around but for the occasional visit... until recently. Once in receipt of the insurance adjustment, days after receiving a check that didn't amount to the cost of material alone that it took to build, and after careful scrutiny, it became necessary to frequent the neighborhood in pursuit of double and triple checking measurement and detail.

Over these past eight weeks or so the pariah of the neighborhood (AKA crackhead #1) had been ever present but over time the constant mulling next door has diminished. It may be that the business advantage wasn't worth the commute to the area, especially when less uncomfortable accommodations were weasled out of some unsuspecting individual.  One could only hope that sporadic would eventually become permanent...but as luck would have it...not so.
After several trips, days in a row of surveying, the occasion presented itself to venture to the back yard, only to discover exactly what the skank was informed of not to do. An electric cord across the yard. Again. Proof positive that the saga continues.

But for what reason would that be? No one in the area has electricity, with little exception save for the occasional generator.  That must be it...sucking electric from the neighbors generator for a few hours of drug dealing in comfort.  Pathetic.

Within days after the storm the meter on the homestead was broken apart as if hit with a hammer.  How or why is the question, that of all things to do at such a time and under such circumstance would someone do such a thing?  No matter.  No loss. It wasn't of any use as within days the gas and electric were to be permanently disconnected anyway.  It wouldn't be until later that the plot would thicken.

So what to do about the return of the electric cord? Several options were apparent but one was most satisfactory.  Cut the cord, at both sides of the yard and throw the remnant across the front step of the crackhouse.  Inclement weather and absent mindedness delayed action for twenty four hours.

The next day, still there and no crackhead. A deliberate effort to bring along a quality pair of wire cutters and a determination to confront said crackhead was the rule of the day.  Before departing and venturing back to disconnect,  the discovery of a plugged end at the crackhead fence and the realization that it was a nice cord... the hell with cutting it...take that home, it's a keeper.Next to get it from Rusty's side (Rusty- the asshole dog).  But an unusual discovery was that it was actually plugged into the house. Strange indeed.  Perhaps they were running the house on the generator and it was convenient to plug into the receptacle.  But only once several weeks before was a generator observed.

Upon further investigation the reason that the meter was vandalized on the homestead became apparent.  The meters on Rusty's house, while never removed by Con Ed, were no longer there.  They were carefully lined up on the ground as if to be sure they were put back in proper order.  They meter pan covers were all removed and the meter disconnects and wires exposed.  Curious to say the least.

Exposed wires
The cord in the back yard was soon unplugged and coiled up and reposed to the back of the truck. Locked down and on the way home. Finally in the heat of the truck and made the u-turn and headed up...when all of a sudden the breaks were hit and the u-turn and back down and stopped. Son of a bitch! Rusty's front porch light was on! The bastards.  Stop the truck and head down the steps to get a better look. The bastards. Close enough to see and there it was. In the confusion of colored wire and connections in the midst of the open meter pans was the unmistakable view of the black and red handles of jumper cables. The bastards had jumped the meters and were getting free electric.  The bastards.  Now what?

Jumper cables 
The no good crackhead is gonna get another cord and be back in business.  What to do? Number one is to rat the Rusty bastards out to ConEd at least that'll slow them down and leave the crackhead without a source. Son of a bitch...not good enough. Driving back up and looking for a listing for Con Ed and the idea hits. One more u-turn and back to the scene of the crime. Pull out the orange cord and back into the yard and plug it back in.  Cross over to Rusty's and feed it through the fence into the Rusty yard and plug it back in. Done. Everything as it was.

With that and a complaint to Con Ed of power theft at two locations, and it's a conspiracy to steal electricity.  A crime punishable by hefty fines and prosecution by law enforcement (based upon the voice of experience) The wheels of dastardly retribution are set in motion.  Just sit back and wait.

Four days later and there it is. The sight of a Con Ed truck out in front and a radio car across the way. This is too good.  Upon entering the homestead the Rusty creeps are pacing back and forth from the meters to the front yard. Almost in a panic. The topic of conversation is as such. The guy who can't focus his eyes is telling the guy who foams at the mouth, "ya see that wire?, that's the one that'll fry ya." Inaudible is the guy that foams at the mouth invariably asking what do we do to which the other guy says, "Just close the gate, they don't come out of the truck in the rain." Holy shit! It will never cease to amaze that the heads of major crime syndicates are simpletons. That the myriad of crimes against society by the likes of public enemy number one are perpetrated by morons that if left to their own devices would drown in there own vomit. Oh the humanity.

The problem is this. They were right. Con Ed does not work in inclement weather...and on this occasion it was sprinkling. To this day the front porch light is still on.

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