Did familiarity breed contempt? The same people did the same things, day after day, year after year. After eleven years, was it time to pack up and move on? Questions asked many times–especially in times of stress.
Trails of cigarette butts could be followed to either of two houses. A former pro-athlete, overestimated his appearance in a Speedo, while doing yard work. One neighbor poached deer from a tree-stand in his backyard. Another set off backyard fireworks all too frequently.
A sweet old lady down the street took in feral cats. It was rumored, she was too familiar with the bottle; once came home inebriated; wandered into a neighbor’s house; fell down, broke a hip. The elderly couple in the first house never came out in the light of day. Were they, perhaps, vampires?
Modern Suburban Fables–an ongoing saga of dysfunctional behavior, ends with episode #9. Running away from ones’ vexations, was not only foolish, but also, impossible. I’m stuck with the possibility of being the only sane [or most boring] person on Cuckoo Street.
The other possibility–these occurrences weren’t that unusual. With the exception being, the day a hot air balloon landed in a backyard, across the street; all neighborhoods, were dysfunctional to some degree. Rumors were partial truths, told to enhance status of the revealer.
I’m not going anywhere. The morning and evening parade of minivans will continue without me.
The verbose are only slightly less tragic than the morose.