Part 6: The Continuing Left Turn into Redneck Hell


(redneck door bell - warning, press gently)

WARNING - this blog entry has cussing, drunkenness, redneck activity, some unfortunate nudity, and, oh, more cussing.

Yes, I can hardly believe it myself - I am writing Part 6. Actually, I wouldn't be doing this right now had it not been for the family meal at Maggiano's. If you've ever been there and done the "family meal" then you know of what I speak. I was absolutely stuffed and had to stop at the office to pick up some things I had left behind... and *WHAM* ... carb bomb. So naturally, I decided to zone in on the office network and get some blogging time in. (Sad, yes?)

You know, at some point I will actually get around to cataloguing all the content in this site so it is a bit easier for the rest of you to digest. For now, here are the links to the story in question, to help prevent you having to go hunt and peck all day (and night - I'm a wordy bastage) long to read up on where our intrepid "hero", that being me, was last seen...

If you need a refresher, here are links to previous entries in this story:

Part 1 - Sometimes it doesn't pay to be a nice guy
Part 2 - What do you call a redneck with an actual working car...
Part 3 - Abandon All Hope, All Ye Who Enter
Part 4 - Redneck Drama, Tarantino Style
Part 5 - Left Turn Into Hell

.. so we came bolting around the corner where Redneck #1 (RN-1) decided to intercept us and try to guide us out the door. From upstairs came the sounds so typical of redneck drama - screaming, yelling, some thumps of things hitting the wall, and the words "assh0le" and "stupid b#tch" , naturally. As S**** and I attempted to press past him, down the steps came a crying Drunk Girl, followed closely by her beer-bellied, shirtless mate. (Like I said, only the missing wifebeaters prevented it from being the "perfect redneck scene.")

Drunk Girl was, of course, screaming obscenities at him and between each cuss word she tried to talk sweetly up the steps to her teenage daughter, to coax her into coming with her. At this time, FlubberHubby split time between yelling at her, looking me up and down to size me up as far as a threat goes, and trying to scope a look at S*** (who happens to have a nice figure). No, really, he was. Kinda figures, doesn't it?
I considered the situation and pulled out my cell phone in case police activity was required at which point he yelled at me, "Go ahead and call the cops. She hit me."

Exqueeze me?

Let's just put it this way - she might have been about 140 pounds soaking wet... and drunk. He had AT LEAST 100 pounds on her and wasn't entirely drunk. And he wants to press charges against her? Talk about a pissant waste of male-ness.

Well, the scuffling/shouting mess carried out into the yard. We followed, of course, partly out of concern for her and, yes, partly out of the same morbid curiosity all humans have for stupid drama

It's the exact same stupidity that causes traffic to slow to an annoying crawl just because a cop has someone pulled over on the side of the road - anyone who drive I-95 near Washington DC knows this all too well - the same foolishness that makes us all rubberneck at accident scenes, trying to pick out the body in all the wreckage. Hey, Faces of Death got popular cause of it... ditto for the evening (so-called) "news".

So, S**** and I remained on the scene in order to assist if things got a bit less civil. True, they couldn't get much worse but he had not, at this point, gotten physical with her, at least not from what we saw. I actually began to wonder if the loud thumping upstairs was from him OR from her... how can you tell with drunk rednecks anyway? Only on video do you have proof - can't never believe them there rednecks whence they getsta start tellin' ya a story...

(Lack of video notwithstanding, the story continues...)

Drunkie then insisted on getting some of her things before leaving and once she grabbed a few items she tried once again to talk her daughter into coming with her. Her daughter refused... and at this point, I could hardly blame her. She was basically a screaming drunk lunatic at this point.... and I was way past regretting having gotten involved at all. We've all seen someone like this, haven't we? If not in person, then on some television show with drunk people being arrested and people in uniforms, with hats, handcuffs, and badges.... I was, in fact, starting to see some morbid humor at every turn... I could even hear bits and pieces of the COPS theme song playing in my head...

*bad boys, what you gonna do...*

Where was I? Oh yes. FlubberHubby started to yell at Drunkie about leaving her 15-year old daughter at home all alone when she left the house. Now, for those not in the "KNOW", in the state of Virginia, it is legal to leave a child as young as 12 home alone and a 14 year old is allowed to babysit a child. I, being the smarty-pants-knowitall absolutely had to inform him of his ignorance of the law regarding this matter - hey, I was "just being helpful" as nice guys often are, right? He turned to me and said, "That's bullshit! I know the law. And what the hell are you? A lawyer?" Damn, was he TRYING to insult me or what? A lawyer? Damn.

Now, the first thought through my head was this - yeah, right... he "KNOWS" the law... probably the ones related to public drunkenness and public urination, possibly on your mailbox. Perhaps the ones for disorderly conduct and resisting arrest and likely also assault and battery from the fights he probably jumps into at first chance. Yeah, he probably "KNOWS" those laws "REAL" well. But I said instead...

"Nope. Not a lawyer. I just know about this part of the law. She only has to be 12 to be legally left alone, 14 to be a babysitter. You're wrong, dumbass." Yes, I HAD to add the dumbass part. Abso-f*ckin-lutely.

Of course, he didn't take too kindly to being called on his stupidity... or maybe it was the "DUMBASS" add-on. Who knew? In retrospect, what was I calling HIM a dumbass for? I was the one who let myself get pulled into this situation, wasnt I? On the other hand, I didn't marry Drunkie... and I didn't let my brother go out "whorin" and cheat on his wife (who, by the way, "had to stay at home to watch their TWO CHILDREN" - of course the sis-in-laws hubby, RN-1, could go out and play anytime he wanted to, right? I mean, he's a man afterall... at least, that's THEIR weak-ass reasoning behind the bullshit behavior); but I digress. So, instead of continuing with this line of "thought", he instead went and started to insult me instead, his loser of a brother behind him...

Did I mention that the reason why she had left the house was to see if her brother-in-law was cheating on his wife? And that she found him at the bar with his brother, her FlubberHubby, with some blonde chick all but humping him on a barstool? Did I mention that? Ahh, yes... oh, and did I mention the part where FlubberHubby basically took up for his brother and got all over her ass for "interfering" and that was why he told her he was leaving her? Oh, well, that's why she went out - her sister-in-law was all upset and crying earlier that night and knew he was cheating on her but didn't have proof so Drunkie went and found it... Hmmm... So anyway, FlubberHubby starts insulting me:

"What the hell do you know, you loser? Look at the way you dress. Probably don't even got no job, you fat f*ck." (Wow. I wish I could be so original. Fat f*ck. Loser. Damn. I gotta lurn me summa them great insultin' stuff, don't I?)

At this point, S*** and I were down below the "porch" (I use the term lightly) and FH and his RN-1 were standing up there attempting to be threatening. I was wearing some baggy carpenter jeans, a t-shirt, and a hawaiian shirt - very comfortable clothing and ALL COTTON cause I do like my comfort when I'm just relaxing... which I was until I got that fateful phone call which, at that point, seemed like such a long time ago...

"Umm, no, you don't know me. Wait a sec... do you own this house or rent? Oh, that's right. You RENT. What, bad credit rating? To many drunk in public arrests so you aren't allowed to BUY a house? (Drunk Girl did mention that) You punk ass, I OWN a house (which is true - I had just completed the purchase of a nice little house not 2 weeks prior to this incident... and yes, it has a Wop-cave).
And what's that? TWO cars in the driveway? Shit. I own SEVEN (which is true - see previous posting) and TWO motorcycles (actually 3.5 of them). And, you stupid redneck, you have no idea what I do for a living. I probably make more money than you and your asshole brother put together, which you seem so happy to be.
And do we REALLY wanna talk about who's a fat f*ck? You aren't exactly what I would call svelte."

In case you weren't aware, I am a programmer/analyst for a mid-sized software firm that deals with power utilities and government contracts. Not necessarily paid as well as others in my field, but I'm thinkin I make more than these 2 rednecks... mostly cause I think his brother was UNEMPLOYED. Wow, can you get more archetypical than THAT? An UNEMPLOYED Redneck Asshole? Wow. They make it too easy.

At this point, Drunk Girl comes out and wants to leave. Of course, she is still drunk so I take the keys from her and get in the "rash-causing Redneck special Mustang" to go. FlubberHubby hopped in the SUV and quickly blocked the driveway. No room to get out the normal, "polite" way due to a raised garden on the left and the house on the right, so I turned the car around and considered pulling the ultimate redneck maneuver and drive through the back yard and out around the other side of the house. This whole time, FlubberHubby was shouting that he was going to call the cops and claim that I was STEALING THE CAR.

Umm, does anyone know of the phrase "permissive use?" Umm, yeah, see that's when she gave me the keys and said I could drive the car and, it being hers, makes it legal for me to drive it. Of course, rednecks like to think they "KNOW" the law, as stated previously.

Unfortunately, Drunk Girl insisted that there was no way to get through the back cause the side was blocked off. Annoyed at the commentary from FlubberHubby, I was sorely tempted to make a go of it anyway and let the spinning wheel marked ruts in the backyard serve as a reminder to him of what happens when you insult a much smarter man... but as I went to pull off into the back, Drunk Girl opened the door and got out of the car. Oh well... no donuts for me.

However, Drunkie then decided to try to take the SUV, since it was registered in at least her name... this is about the time the cops got called...

Part 7 - a lesson in the law, coming soon to a blog near you