My new neighbor [View all]
My neighbor is a serial killer. Everyone on the block knew that about him when he moved in but we all smiled as we said "Hello" and "Welcome" - as is the neighborly thing to do.
The whole street paraded over with dishes heaped with enough food to last a month of Sundays. As each person handed over their most winning effort with a smile and a look of encouragement, they lingered in expectation - waiting for a compliment on the presentation or aroma - the polite response when offered neighborly gifts. But each time the new neighbor would grunt, take the dish, and make to shut the door.
It was a bit strange that the newcomer expected each and every person on his walkway to knock in turn instead of simply accepting the bounty and pleasantries of the already gathered assembly.
But he is a serial killer and maybe he isn't accustomed to the ways of being a polite neighbor. So as the door closed on one baffled face another cheerfully determined one would pry it right back open. This went on for several minutes when the newest member of our close knit community walked away, leaving the door wide open, and chucking Miss Betty's Blueberry Sunrise Surprise on a moving box in the hall.
Wondering what to do next, the group decided the open door was an invite, and in we all piled.
The screams began as I was passing through the hall, having stopped for a quick peek into the half-bath. Painted a bright gold, it wasn't my taste - but I knew with the right influence my new buddy would learn to embrace neutral colors.
Reaching the kitchen, I saw Miss Betty sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood, an ax sticking out of her skull. The new kid in town was smiling bigly while coating his face in Miss Betty's blood.
The dismay on the faces of everyone else let me know that something untoward had taken place. Not wanting to be rude I didn't ask.
I am a restaurant manager by trade so I took charge. Accidents and messy spills are a big part of working with food, and I knew exactly what was needed. I got John to get a mop and a bucket, while Kelly and Sarah were sent in search of towels. The neighbor from across the street, the one everyone called General, volunteered to get our now tomato-colored comrade cleaned up, and off to the shower they went.
In short order the kitchen was put to right. Floors and walls cleaned. Trash burning out back, with Miss Betty and her cake topping the pile. It was the send off any neighbor would want from the neighborhood they loved.
We all love our neighborhood. We have an obligation to to keep it running smoothly.
With the new neighbor occupied with the busy work of unpacking we made our way back to our homes, secure in the knowledge that we did the right thing. We protected the neighborhood.
It seems so obvious - what happened. He is a serial killer, after all. But when you have a duty to be a good neighbor, you do what you must.
We work in shifts now, keeping an eye on our neighbor, hoping to avoid another Miss Betty surprise. The city can sleep soundly at night, safe in the knowledge that we are on the job.
We could call the police, I suppose - but who wants to start a neighborhood fracas when we all have a job to do, making our neighborhood great again? It could drive our property values down.
Besides, he's not all bad. He's done some really good things. Fewer dogs means less barking - and that can't be bad, right? Right?
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