Vampires and other neighbours

I have vampires living in the house on the left of me. No really it’s true. How do I know? Well I just do. I have lived in my house for eight years now and I have never seen the neighbours. Correction – I should say I have only ever caught a fleeting glance of them as they rush inside whenever they see me. I think they are probably shy vampires. I should point out that I rarely ever even catch a glimpse of them outside in the day time hence the vampire theory. They do everything at night. Often when I lie in bed at night, I hear the squeaking of the laundry trolley at 2 o’clock in the morning as they drag it out to the clothes line to hang out their washing. But they are quiet so I figure living next to quiet vampires is okay as long as they don’t want to borrow a cup of blood.

Now the neighbour behind me is also interesting. I call him tent boy. Why? Because he has a perfectly nice, good home yet he sleeps in a tent in his back yard.Why? Stuffed if I know. He looks about mid thirties, he appears to go to work everyday and yet he lives in a tent. I have not worked out why as yet but I am sure it’s a fascinating reason and who am I to say what is normal? Tent boy’s one fascination in life on the weekend appears to be his motorized helicopter. He plays with this for hours upon hours. It does not do anything but hover off the ground in the same place and yet his is spellbound by it. I don’t understand it but then I don’t have to.

My neighbour to the right is a would be rock god. You know – blond hair, tight jeans and the belief that he can sing. And he can sing. Just not very well and he only sings one song over and over. Lola – L O L A – Lola? Know the one? Great song but only when sung by someone who has a clue and a voice. The rock god has some sort of microphone set up and he sings this song all the time. Nothing else. He just belts out Lola on a continual basis. Oh - I just realized this could be why the vampires hide inside. Anyway the other night a neighbour up the road cracked. He stood in front of the man’s house and told him to “Shut the F&$# up.” This was followed by much cheering by the other neighbours. We have not heard Lola since and the rock god walks around sulking like the wounded artiste he is.

Last but not least, the neighbour across the road. I will call her Drunken Betty. One a month Drunken Betty goes on a wild bender, drinking her body weight in alcohol and then she spends the rest of the evening swearing non stop at the top of her lungs about anything and everything. I have heard swear words I have never knew existed before or possibly she is just talking in a another language. Whatever. She is harmless albeit loud and slurred while under the affluence of incohol. But more importantly she is reliable as once a month you can set your clock by her. The next Drunken Betty swearing at the moon session is in a couple of weeks. The interesting thing is she is usually this meek quiet person who is very polite and would not normally say shit for a shilling. I love extremes.

And what do the neighbours think about me? It does not matter as everyone is someone else’s weirdo. And let’s face it, why conform with the crowd when you can sing, swear, live in a tent and be a vampire? I just write erotic romance – how boring am I?

Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

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