CHET, TWIT

So I was brushing the bourbon off my teeth last night, prior to taking my tea and heading to bed.  I noticed out the powder room window that my neighbor was still in his garage, despite the hour.  What's he doing now? I thought.  Then the music started again--I could hear it through the double-pane windows, across the breadth of our two yards and through his metal garage doors.  He's always in there with the reggae music and its ugly jungle rhythms!  And I never know what they're singing about with those accents (which sound fake by the way) but it sounds vaguely, I don't know, insubordinate?  They always seem to want retribution of some sort but you know how those type are, always complaining about what they DON'T have and not focusing on what they do.  And I never understood why a white man like him, my neighbor that is, would listen to the reggae and get all mixed up with people who apparently "have shot the sheriff."  I was flossing so hard from anger I was making my gums bleed.  I could see him through one of his cloudy and greasy garage door windows and I think I saw him 'taking a toke' I think they call it--toking on a marijuana cigarette.  I saw once in a movie a man making a marijuana cigarette for himself and at some point it involved him licking the paper with his tongue which just seems unsanitary at a minimum but surely not something done by a polite person, not that any of the dirty people toking the cigarette afterwards seemed either polite nor seemed to care about this other dirty man's saliva.  I wondered if he was in there, my neighbor that is, with someone else licking his papers and sharing his drugs with him and listening to his nasty music.  While exfoliating I was able to keep one eye out through the venetians and I suddenly saw my neighbor's 13 year old son exit the rear door of their house.  I saw him cross the driveway and peek into the window at my neighbor, his father.  It was only then that I realized that the boy was completely naked - not even shoes.  Naked and fully erect, and I'm not talking about his posture, as far as I could tell through the double-pane windows, and across the breadth of our two yards.  He then turned the corner of the garage (13 year old et. al. if you know what I mean) and disappeared into the darker areas of their yard, presumably out by the swing set, the younger of the two neighbor children seemed to spend a lot of time on.  What is wrong with these people? I thought.  I applied some apple-compote moisturizer and did my gargle with grain alcohol and rainwater.  When I turned out the light I noticed orange flames on the walls of the powder room.  Looking out the window again there was a light from behind MY garage this time.  Cinching the belt of the Spa Comfort bathrobe I swiped from the Four Zebras resort in Djibouti, I exited the back door of my home and immediately came face to face with a massive raccoon ransacking my trash cans.  I bared my teeth at him and made a sound that approximated the goggle-gobble of a wild turkey which I had just read is the best method for chasing raccoons without engaging them since they could be dangerous and rabid and who needs rabies when one is holding tickets for a flight next week to Thailand and a weekend of eastern delicacies, if you know what I mean, and I sure hope you do because I'm not going to explain it--no sir, not in a millions years.  The raccoon lumbered his big caboose off my trash and shuffled down the driveway towards the woods across the street.  He'd be back I thought.  I walked across the wet spring grass not caring that my Prada slippers were dampening and craned my neck tentatively around the side of the garage.  I immediately felt the heat of what my eyes had not yet had the opportunity to completely focus on nor my brain the chance to process mentally.  There seemed to be gigantic circle of flames like at a circus lion show only at least 30 feet in diameter, and as I gazed through the circle of fire there was some optical illusion that made it seem like there was nothingness beyond.  Not white or black, just nothingness.  Suddenly the 13 year old knocked me to my knees running past and did what looked like one of those flop leaps the Olympiads do when clearing the high jump bar, and as he did so, since he was facing me, he stuck both middle fingers up at me which along with the third finger he was sporting made for quite a humiliating display, especially since the knees of my pajamas were now completely soaked through and would have to be laundered, again.  As he leaped through the circle of fire it vanished along with him leaving me on my knees in the dark.  I heard the reggae get suddenly louder as my neighbor was yelling though the now open side door of his garage.  "Hey Chet, what're you doing back there?"