The Crack House Across the Street
So, I was blind drunk when I bought this house on the wrong side of town… Shortly after that I stopped drinking… Then my wife left… Then I woke up to:
The Crack House Across the Street Christmas 1991
Even before I noticed the closed circuit TV camera in the tree pointed up my dead end street I knew there was something up with my neighbors across the way… You see, about every couple of days or so there was a customized van full of brothers from Compton parked on their front lawn and we all know that the only time the brothers and the beans play nice together was when they are doing business…
Up and down the little hell hole of a dead end street there came all manner of traffic, Hookers, Dopers, Freaks (“One of these days a real rain is going to come and wash all the scum off the street”) at all hours of the day stopping in at the house across the street, then slinking off, and it was getting on my nerves. I’d already had several confrontations with the inhabitants of the house, over I can’t even remember all what, but I had vowed to kill them all at least twice and had actually knocked the one lesbian sister around a little and escorted the crack whore’s boyfriend off of my front porch at gunpoint… Anyway… Things weren’t good and getting worse in the ghetto… Something had to be done.
At this time in 1991 I was a tad under a year sober and hadn’t really got the hang of living without some kind of sedation… What I’m saying is… I was pretty much completely out of my mind… And I was bored… Really bored. So rather than doing the logical sane thing which would be to report them to the police I took on the task myself…
No… I didn’t go blow them up if that’s what your thinking, but what I did do was to set about driving them out of their minds.
I should probably back up here and tell you how the original hostilities started.
The Rabid Barking Rat Infestation
Even before they started up their crack business these people were a pain in the a$$… They had a sh1t load of nasty little Chihuahuas… Something like 25 or 30 of the little mangy things and they let them all run loose. They’d sh!t all over my yard and eat the cat’s food…
So… I’d sit up all night and snare them off the cat dish on my back porch then toss their flea ridden carcasses in the trash… Okay… I know what you’re thinking… I’m not right in the head… But really… There were loads of them and they were dropping like flies anyway to disease and the loosers across the street would just let the bodies rot in the gutter when one of them kicked off… I had called animal control at least a dozen times to report the pack of rabid little dogs and of course nothing happened… Animal control doesn’t cruse the ghetto… So basically I had been doing a public service.
Drug Dealers Are Really Paranoid
And knowing this I figured the best way to get them the hell off my street was to play on that paranoia… So began Operation: WTF… Where is the Dead Guy?
This was the first attack in what would be a war of terror that lasted for several weeks… Christmas Day, about 3:00 am 1991… I had obtained a handful of fresh spent 9mm shells and 2 pints of O negative human blood (don’t ask) I slipped across the street, down the crack house driveway, I dropped the shell casings here and there with a few splats and dribbles of blood making my way to the back porch… And left a bloody (gloved) hand print on the backdoor window and on the door knob as well… I splashed a little extra blood around for good measure and made made my retreat. I gave it about 20 minutes then I shot the camera they had installed in a tree in for surveillance and fired another good 10 or 12 rounds into the tree… Then I sat back watched all hell break loose… They ran around and back and fourth for hours… Crawling around in the bushes and splashing bleach all over everything.
The next day I gained access to the roof of the house (Yes… I had balls made of steel and zero common sense) and pumped expanding foam into the pipe vents so the drains stopped working and sewer gas would bubble up into the house…
I pulled a few more stunts… Some of the most fun I’d ever had… But finally a Swat Team showed up and took them all away… It sounded like a freight train when they hit the house and busted them all… So long Crack Heads.
Backing up a few months to the loose pack of barking rat dogs…
Barking Crack House Chihuahua Rats Part 2
One night I managed to snare 3 of these nasty little dogs off my back porch and truth be told, as fun as it was to sit up all night snaring Chihuahuas, I was getting tired of the game. So I had these three dead Chihuahuas… And I had this 8′ treated wood tree stake (you know the kind that you drive into the ground to hold up sapling trees so the wind won’t blow them over).
I piked the three rat dogs on the stake… They wouldn’t stay arranged nicely on the skewer so I had to staple them to the pole… I walked the giant Chihuahua Kabob across the street and I stuck it in their front yard.
Never heard anything like the freak out it when the crack heads woke up to find the piked dogs in their front yard…
4 thoughts on “The Crack House Across the Street”
If any of this is true, you are one crazy ass drunken mofo. Omg I havent laughed so hard in a while. Tears rolling down my cheeks. But really, where did you find the blood?
Yeah, I was pretty damn crazy, and when I stopped drinking it was kind of like throwing the brakes on a freight train… Lots of sparks.
As to the blood… Well… That kind of leads into another story from that same era… Perhaps I’ll write “How to Juggle Girlfriends” soon.
what kind of gun were you using?
Hmm… Are you a Cop? :squint:
It was an M1-A (.762X64)… Shot from my bedroom window… Kind of overkill… And yes an incredibly insane thing to do… Hence my name and Not Right in the Head.
And yeah… I think it is time to go public with my girl troubles in early sobriety.
Ever date a Nurse?
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