This is a long post* so bear with me...
The 4th of July used to be my parents big yearly party. They would invite friends and family over for swimming, BBQing, cocktail drinking, and of course a huge fireworks display once the sun went down. We never had any ruckus or bad vibes, just people enjoying a hot July day and each other's company. All of that is over now. Why? Because meth heads and pot heads* do not mix. Let me explain. My parent's neighborhood is a solid, working class neighborhood. Everybody works hard, plays hard, and respects each other's boundaries with little to no crime rate. All except two of the houses on my parent's block, each house two down from my parents on the left and on the right. One house is occupied with meth heads, the other occupied with pot heads, and meth heads and pot heads do not mix.
A little back story on the two rivals. The meth head family has lived on the block for as long as can remember. I went to school with two of the daughters and they are three generations strong living in that one house. The pot head family moved in about ten years ago and immediately began feuding with the meth family. They steal from each other, vandalize each other, and when they are feeling extra rambunctious, they will stand out in the middle of the street and yell expletives at each other. At any time of the day or night. All of this with my parent's house stuck right smack dab in the middle. It has gotten so bad that my parents and their other neighbor had to install video surveillance. The police have been over several times to watch footage including the stealing of mail by the meth family kids and the pot family kids scratching up cars with their bikes. Notice I never brought up fighting? That is because neither family has the nerve to actually engage the other, all they want to do is continue with their silly war of words and subtle espionage. Unfortunately, the 4th of July brings out the worse.
On Independence Day, the pots likes to close off their section of the block. It is perfectly legal as they always get the correct permits and so forth. By blocking off their section they also get to throw bigger parties. So now we just don't have the pot family but also all their friends and family, and they love nothing more than smoking pot, drinking Coors Light, and blowing things up real good with illegal fireworks*. Pot + Coors Light + explosives = White Trash Heaven! The pots love their illegals, they even play a little game with the police. First, the pot family will shoot off their BOOM! mortars. Then the police helicopter will come around to investigate. The pots will begin their whistle warning system so everybody stops doing anything the cops might not like. As the copter hovers overhead, the pots will laugh and ridicule it for being police. You know clever stuff like "Look! Pigs can fly!" and "One of these days I am going to blow that copter up!". Just some good natured ribbing. After the copter leaves the pot family goes back to White Trash Heaven. Also part of White Trash Heaven are what we call the "UFC Boyz"*. The UFC Boyz love to stand in the street and practice their UFC moves on one another. So imagine a group of skinny, tattooed, white boys. Each one wearing jorts and a wife beater. They are drinking Coors Light and smoking various forms of cigarettes. And to top it off, they enjoy taking each other down with moves they think they have mastered because they have seen it on the TV in a cage fight. Good times? Nay, Great times! The meths, meanwhile, pretty much keep to themselves. Because of the two drug families and the problems that they caused, my parent's annual party was reduced to just me, my sister, and my brother, his wife, and his step-daughter. No one else wants to come around because of the neighbors. What was once a glorious time is now just a night of trying to keep the cars and house from blowing up.
Two years ago, things got out of hand. The day started as normal as White Trash Heaven could start. The meths were down at their house doing meth things, and the pots had their section of block closed off to traffic. Well this year one of the lost daughters of the meths showed up on the back of a Harley on the wrong side of the block closure. Not wanting to take the long trip around the block, they decided they were going to drive right through the middle of the pots' White Trash Heaven. Of course the pots were going to get mad, in fact, one of them threw a bottle at the meth daughter as she rode through. When she got to the meths and told what had happened, one of the braver meths decided to do something about it. Of course he went as far as my parent's home to do something about it. He stood in front of my parent's home calling out to the pots two houses down. The leader of the pots is a bald, beer-bellied simpleton who reminds me of a mean Homer Simpson. Mean Homer decided that smoking pot, drinking Coors light, and blowing things up was funner than arguing with a meth so he took the high road* and ignored the meth. His wife on the other hand, Perpetually Drunk Mom(PDM), thought otherwise. She wanted some extra excitement for White Trash Heaven, so she and her two friends walk over to the meth standing in front of my parent's house to have a little confrontation.
So now there is a meth(male) and three pots(female) standing in front of my parent's house yelling pleasantries at each other, and PDM was winning the battle of vulgarities. The rest of the meths noticed that the one brave meth was losing his ground so they came over to re-enforce the meth front. Now the middle meth daughter, Prostitute Meth(PM), was in a face to face war of words with PDM. PM was giving PDM more than what she could handle so PDM decided to pull out the big gun*, she lifted up her dress, sans underwear, and told PM that she would give her $10 to "lick my c***!". It was at this moment that my brother took his wife and step-daughter and went home*. This, for some reason, really riled up the meths and they surrounded PDM ready to actually put down a beating. PDM's friends called out for the UFC Boyz who quickly run over looking for a spot to build a cage just in case they need to whoop some ass. As the confrontation grows word gets over to Mean Homer that his wife,PDM, is flashing the enemy. He is not happy with this. Apparently only he can look at the goods, selfish! Meanwhile, no one has yet to get physical, even the UFC Boyz are more concerned about where to put up their cage than they are about actually testing their skill for real. All of this is still happening in front of my parent's home. As Mean Homer is slowly walking over, PDM again decides to pull out the big gun* and runs into her house. Now Mean Homer is really concerned. If PDM comes out with a gun and gets herself into trouble who is going to get drunk and ignore his kids? He can't do it alone. So Mean Homer goes into the house as well and, we assume, explains to PDM who is in charge of White Trash Heaven because we do not see PDM for the rest of the night*.
So with PDM gone, the UFC Boyz failing to construct a steel cage, and the meths starting to come down, the almost riot is extinguished but the damage has been done. What was left of my family has either left or gone inside to never light fireworks again*. My sister and I stay outside to finish lighting off what fireworks we had left. About an hour later the cops show up asking where the gun is and who was threatening to use it. Again, all of this is taking place in front of my parents home. We play dumb, not wanting to cause any more trouble for my parents, and tell them it was only a battle of words, which it actually was. After the police leave a couple of the braver UFC Boyz are angry that the cops were called in the first place. So they chase what is left of the meth's party into the meth house threatening to build a steel cage and put the meths in it if they come back outside. This brings the cops back out. My sister and I lose any patience we had left and go inside instead of dealing with the commotion out in the street, which of course is once again happening in front of my parent's home. The cops leave, the meths go to crash for three days, and White Trash Heaven continues well into the night and early the next morning and every 4th of July since. This is what killed the 4th of July for me and my family.
*
post- I swear all events in this post are true, only the names of the parties involved are fabrications.
*pot heads- Before you get all preachy about how pot only mellows people out and doesn't do anyone any harm, I invite you to come observe my parent's neighbors.
*illegal fireworks- They don't like the type that shoot up in the air and make pretty showers of sparks. No, they only like the kind that go BOOM! and set off car alarms.
*"UFC Boyz"- I feel that the UFC's greatest contribution to American culture is giving white boys everywhere a whole new level of confidence in street fighting. And notice I said "UFC" and not "MMA". All UFC is MMA but not all MMA is UFC. I have a healthy respect for MMA(I used to love Pride) but do not care for what is the bastardization of MMA by Dana White, UFC.
*high road- Yeah, the pun was intended!
*big gun- Not literally this time.
*step-daughter home- They haven't been back over for the 4th since.
*big gun- This time quite literally.
*rest of the night- That's right sweetie, sleep it off, tomorrow's another big day.
*light fireworks again- My parents and sister also refuse to go anywhere else for the 4th because they are afraid to leave their home unattended among the illegal fireworks.
