Thursday, June 28, 2012
In Lieu of Flaming Dogshit
I know what you're thinking: Yes, that post title could inspire an excellent motion picture. Probably a French film. But today, it describes something equally classy that's been on mind mind lately. You see, I've been spending some time over at Bryan and his wife's place lately while we work on the cartoon, and I've gotten to know some of his neighbors a little better. And they suck. Hard. So hard, in fact, that a flaming bag of dogshit on their porch just wouldn't be bad enough. So, I've been brainstorming better, more fitting gifts I'd rather leave them...or any shitty neighbor. Here are some things you might want to try for yourself...
The Wheel of Many Explosive Deaths
This option was the first one that came to mind. All you'd need is a scrumptious looking pizza, some warmed up Milk of Magnesia, and a delivery guy willing to take a cash bribe. Total cost: about twenty bucks, plus tip. Order a pizza, pay for it, and then tell the delivery guy to haul it next door after you spritz it with the super-laxative. "What's that you say, guy?" says the pizza man. "You didn't order this pie? Well, sir, my mistake. It's on the house." And just like that, your vengeance will be visited upon his rectum for many countless hours.
In the tradition of our forefathers and their generosity to those pesky land-squatters the Native Americans, you could always take the underhanded "Welcome to the neighborhood" approach. All you'll need here is a nice, comfy looking blanket and access to a vial of communicable germs. Our forefathers preferred Smallpox, but I hear that stuff's hard to come by these days, so you get extra points for creativity.
Mormon on a Mission
Just in case poisoning is a little too "illegal" of an option for you to consider*, there's always the more subtle, but equally torturous, option of doorstep nuisance: the door-to-door Mormon salesmen.
Let's face it, after spending fifteen minutes trying to get these grinning, short-sleeved fashion misfits off his front porch, your neighbor will probably wish you'd sent him the Smallpox. All you've got to do is go to the website of every Mormon church in the state, post about fifty inquiries for further information using your neighbor's name and address, and then sit back and watch as the white-shirt-and-backpack barrage rolls in.
*Not that we promote or condone attempting any of this nonsense. We don't. So don't do it, dipshit.
If all else fails, you could always just start an amorous penpal correspondence with an enormous, homicidally deranged prison inmate named Squeaky Pete, using your neighbor's name of course. And then, a week before his release date, break up with him. When he arrives at the neighbor's place, and god knows his Jerry Springer ass will, Petey will bring a little life into the neighborhood. Throw some popcorn in the microwave, because even if your neighbor doesn't wind up in Intensive Care, this will be a show you won't want to miss.
So, what do you think? Any gold star ideas here? Do you have any suggestions of your own?
Beer: Left Hand Sawtooth
Music: May Erlewine
Labels: Flaming Dogshit