Boots-n-Phyllis: December Action

I know you’ve been chomping at the bit for an update on my lunatic neighbors, so here is a handy run-down of December happenings. I am literally That Nosy Housewife who stands with a glass to the wall in order to hear the conversations better.

• They have a tv now. A box tv with a bunch of VHS tapes stacked on top. I can see it clearly when I’m across the street getting out of the car and YES I’M PURPOSELY LOOKING.
• Henry said Larry stopped him on the sidewalk and very earnestly said, “Please don’t associate me with [Boots]. I’m trying to get rid of him, too.” Chooch’s Nemesis Larry….our ally?! I never would have thought….
• 12/14: Boots & Phyllis have a HUGE FIGHT at 1am which causes me to lose my shit and I start screaming too, and Henry mumbles from beneath his pillow for me to stop and not stoop to their level and I’m all “I’LL SHOW YOU STOOPING!!” as I proceed to stampede up and down the steps and then slam the front door so hard that one of my framed Warped Tour pictures falls off the wall. HEY, IT GETS THEIR ATTENTION and there’s not one more peep for the rest of the night. And I know this because I’m so fucking wired at this point that I just lay in bed and shake.
• 12/16: Friday night – another GET AWAY FROM ME fight. Phyllis is all, “I’m not leaving in the middle of the night!” And I’m all, “I wish you would, you dumb bitch!” God, SOMETIMES I THINK I’M ON BOOTS’ SIDE.
• 12/17: Saturday early evening. I’m sitting here trying to watch a vlog of my favorite American Kpop dancer (jellybeannose, le duh) in Korea for a 2013 Kpop convention, when suddenly: EXPLOSION NEXT DOOR. I grab my glass and run up to my room to get a better listen-hear.  “You make $300 a month, how are you even paying rent GEORGE? You’re GOOD FOR NOTHIN’. I’d be embarrassed if I was fucking you! Idiot! You’re a fucking IDIOT! You don’t HAVE any friends! They all talk behind your back!” I have literally never herd someone say “good for nothin'” in real life.  Then Boots left. Then he came back. Then SHE left, limping down the street with a blanket, like it was her bindle or something. Boots left a few minutes later and limped a different direction. He came back later but Phyllis never did thank god.
• 12/19: I was off work this day and suddenly, over top of my TV, I heard, “WOOO! WOOO!” Turns out, Boots was on the phone with someone, and he signed off with a slurred, “Ok I love you talk to you later” – who was he talking to?! Phyllis? His mom? His dealer? More importantly, how the fuck can I hear him ON THE PHONE OVER MY TV when he’s on an entirely different floor in his house?!
  • Later, I heard HOT NAYBOR CHRIS THE JUDAS OFFERING BOOTS ANOTHER TV?! They were outside in the driveway and I kept gasping, “Chris, no!” And Boots was all slurring around the cigarette holes in his throat, “YEAH YEAH I WANT THAT” and then Chris suggested that they go ask LARRY for his dolly and I’m thinking, “We’re trying to get this guy to leave and Chris is trying to make his house more of a home, ugh!”
  • Then after that, the Crazy lady who lives in the big white house up the street stopped on the sidewalk and was talking to Boots about the inside of the house, and then they had a weird argument over the driveway because she didn’t believe that it’s shared between the two house. I was walking home later from the bakery and saw her later pausing in front of our house, scoping out our driveway. SO MANY WEIRDOS IN BROOKLINE.
• MICHAEL: I began noticing a second derelict accompanying Boots on the porch and turns out his name is Michael and I know this because Boots got locked out for the 8973407290720850834265 time since moving in and started screaming MICHAEL MICHAEL MICHAEL I’M LOCKED OUT and then I heard Michael’s dopey clodhopper footsteps bumbling down the steps and over to the door, at which point Boots had to holler instructions on how to unlock the door so god only knows what sort of jerry-rigged security set-up he’s got going on over there.
• Without Phyllis, it’s pretty quiet for the rest of the week. Michael doesn’t do much. We did make eye contact once and it was scary though.
• 12/23: JUDY MADE CONTACT. She was here babysitting Chooch and said that Boots came a’calling during the day, asking if she found a phone in the mailbox because his friend was supposed to have had dropped off a phone to him but thought he might have put it in ours instead. WHAT THE HELL, IS IT A BURNER PHONE?! Judy started white-knighting him and I didn’t like that, not one bit. She said he was “very polite” and Chooch said, “He’s lucky YOU weren’t the one who opened the door” which made Henry laugh without mirth because everyone knows I don’t answer the door when strangers knock. Then Judy got all dreamy-eyed and said, “He looks familiar. Maybe I used to drink with him. Yeah, down at the Soithern Star.” Henry groaned, “Oh god please don’t know him.”
  • Later that night, PHYLLIS RETURNS but Boots isn’t home! I spend a good deal of time in my bedroom, plastered against the wall with my hearing-glass. Some other man is with her and I assume it was her ride there. It sounds like she is getting some of her shit together, and she’s spitting all kinds of hate-speech about Boots (or as she calls him, “George”). The guy with her says something about Boots leaving earlier with his brother, so I think Michael is his brother?!
    • Also, Phyllis keeps saying, “Come here, pretty girl!” and I’m wondering if this is some hostage Boots keeps chained up under the bed, but then I deduce it’s a pet of some sort.  A few days later, I see a white and gray cat sitting on the bedroom windowsill. That poor cat. :(
• 12/25: Christmas morning, a pick-up that looks like it drove off the set of Beverly Hillbillies drops off some real fucking vagabonds. One is a young …. woman and she’s very Hills Have Eyes. A few days later, I saw her outside in an awkward embrace with Michael. Anyway, later that night there are a ton of violent outbursts and then I realize that they’re having what I assume is some type of inbred Steelers party, I don’t know. At some point the next day, the pick-up truck limps its way back to Pioneer Ave and scoops up Hills Have Eyes.
• 12/31: THE CONFRONTATION. For as much as I sincerely hate Boots, I have to say he’s fairly harmless and quiet (well, he still gets carried away with the door-slamming here and there). But then, Phyllis comes back. So it’s New Years Eve, and again — we’re just hanging out, watching hockey (not Korean hockey, just NHL) when the volatile shouting happens. “YOU’RE A FUCKING CUNT!” Boots shouted, so then I screamed into the wall, “NO YOU’RE A FUCKING CUNT!!!” and Chooch ripped off his headphones and got an excited “Oooh Mommy’s about to put on a show!” look on his face. Meanwhile, Henry was groaning, “Erin, STOP!” and I just lost it, screaming my face off about how trashy these assholes are and how I was ready to fight them. I heard the door slam, so I ran to my front door and stood there with my arms crossed. Boots was walking up the sidewalk, and as he got in front of my house, he looked up at my porch and I held onto the eye contact as angrily as I could. He stopped and I swear he first called me a broad, and then mouthed off about me having a problem. So I stepped out onto the porch and said, “Yeah, I have a problem with you!” He incredulously repeated, “With me?!” And, here is where I wish I could rewind time and say something better, I yelled, “YEAH, YOU AND YOUR YAPPING!” So then he started WALKING DOWN MY SIDEWALK TOWARD ME and I’m thinking, “Oh fucking finally, we’re going to fight! I’m so glad  I had that glass of wine first!” But you guys, instead of being the fucking macho man he is when he’s verbally terrorizing Phyllis, he instead got SUPER POLITE and began kissing my ass. “Look, I got a big problem with this woman over there. She’s homeless and I took her in and now I just want her to leave, but she won’t. She’s causing me all kinds of problems!” I’m still being stern at this point, still have my arms crossed angrily, and it occurs to me that I’ve been subconsciously channeling my inner Aunt Sharon, who was NOTORIOUS for confronting people. But at the same time, I now feel myself getting pulled into his dramarama and I’m like, “Well, she’s certainly making you look bad*, so you should just make her leave if she doesn’t live there.” *(Like he needs help in that area.) Then he goes on to tell me about the people coming in and out, taking advantage of him and honestly I have no idea what it is he has to offer unless this really is a drug situation happening (there are two people who roll up frequently, go in his house for a minute, and then leave…like, come on). Also, I can’t believe how excruciatingly difficult it is to understand him. He literally talks like a grouping of dicks is going to cascade from him mouth at any second—what the hell does he have stuffed in there?! His voice, oh my god, you guys. Meanwhile, he was standing bow-legged and all slinky, flapping his arms and swaying back and forth, and I’m not even sure if he was actually drunk or high, or if this is just his standard stance. He is so beyond white trash. Then he went on to explain how he “remodeled” all of the properties on our block (false — he just worked for the contracting company! He made it sound like he did it all himself) and that he “pays his rent” and I’m like, “Well that’s great but you’re disruptive, and I’ve lived here a long ass time without having problems with any of my neighbors” (also false but he is legit the worst). We ended with him swearing to do better and then I just turned around and went inside while he was wishing me a happy new year. I DON’T WANT HIS GROSS WELL-WISHES!!
  • When I turned to come back inside, Chooch nearly fell out of the doorway. He was laughing so hard and Henry was just like “ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!?” and you know what, yeah motherfucker, I was happy. Man, it felt great to finally face-off with that dickhead, you know? And on my turf, too. I don’t ever want to knock on that door because god only knows what will open it. So I was happy that this happened outside with cars driving by.
  • “How could you even understand him!? He did so much gesturing!” Chooch cried, still doubled-over with laughter.
  • “I’m pretty sure he asked you where your dad is,” Henry said, frowning. OMG DOES HE THINK HENRY IS MY DAD?! It just gets better and better.
• There hasn’t been anything major to report since then. I haven’t heard Phyllis’s nerve-racking voice so I’m trying to just pretend that she found greener pastures and isn’t chopped up and stuffed in a suitcase somewhere.

As I type this, there’s some moderate commotion next door, but my hearing-glass has helped me determine that it’s not of the violent variety. It’s the weekend and I guess some of the friends that Boots doesn’t have according to Phyllis are visiting him from the halfway house, where they will later return and talk about him behind his back.

ALTHOUGH IF HE SLAMS THAT FUCKING DOOR ONE MORE TIME….

I wonder what Boots’ spy-log for me would look like?

• The broad is doing Korean aerobics again
• The broad is listening to Korean music again
• They’re all yelling at the cats
• The broad is yelling at the hockey game
• The broad is dragging another wheelchair into the house — WHO IN THERE IS PARALYZED?!
• The broad and the kid are beating up their dad again

But you know, the spelling would be worse than my usual abomination of the written word.